Chapter 362: Not Believing It Was an Accident
The piercing wail of the ambulance siren screeched to a halt in front of the hospital’s emergency building.
The doors were yanked open. Paramedics moved swiftly, pushing a gurney as they rushed out of the vehicle, their expressions grim and hurried.
Covered in blood and unconscious, Adrian Lancaster and the driver were placed on the gurneys. Medical staff jogged alongside them, pushing them straight into the operating room, not daring to waste a single second.
The red light above the operating room door lit up.
Its harsh, cold red glow illuminated the entire empty corridor, reflecting off the polished floor with a chilling gleam that sent a wave of panic through the heart.
Wren Sutton, holding Owen and Nina, staggered out of the vehicle with unsteady steps, supported by a nurse.
Her legs were still trembling, and her strength felt completely drained, making every step an immense struggle.
The two children were so young, crying incessantly from the fright, trembling pitifully in their mother’s arms.
Wren lowered her gaze, using all her strength to steady her trembling hands as she gently patted her children’s backs.
Her fingertips were ice-cold, and even her embrace felt chilled to the bone.
The cold wind blew across the gash on her arm, and a searing pain instantly spread through it.
The swollen red bump on her forehead made her feel dizzy, and a dull, heavy ache pulsed intermittently.
But this physical pain was not even a fraction of the agony tormenting her heart.
A nurse quickly began to treat the wound on Wren’s arm.
The cold, iodine-soaked cotton swab gently wiped her arm. A stinging sensation flared, but Wren felt nothing, her vacant, anxious gaze locked on the closed doors of the operating room.
The moment of the crash flashed through her mind again and again.
Adrian Lancaster hadn’t hesitated for a second. Without even time to think, he had thrown himself over, using his broad back to shield her and the two children from the full force of the impact.
Shards of glass flew everywhere as the car’s frame crumpled violently. He was bleeding profusely, yet his arms remained wrapped tightly around them. Even after losing consciousness, his grip hadn’t loosened in the slightest.
’He must have been in so much pain.’
Every time she relived the memory, it felt as though an icy hand was squeezing her heart, a suffocating feeling washing over her, so painful she could barely breathe.
Her eyes were already red-rimmed, and tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks, dripping onto her children’s clothes.
Endless pain churned within her, along with an unshakeable sense of self-blame and regret.
’If only we had stayed at the old manor tonight, this sudden car crash wouldn’t have happened.’
’Adrian wouldn’t be lying in that cold operating room, his life hanging in the balance, all because he was protecting me and the kids.’
’It was my fault. I insisted on leaving, on not staying at the manor. I dragged Adrian and the driver into this.’
"I’m sorry, I’m so sorry..."
Wren mumbled to herself, her voice choked with shattered sobs of guilt.
This heavy self-reproach was like a dull blade, repeatedly cutting into her heart. It drew no blood, yet the pain twisted her insides.
Tears blurred her vision.
She didn’t even dare to think about what she would do if the man in that operating room didn’t make it out.
...
The hospital had immediately called the Lancaster family through their emergency contact system.
The grave news of the accident was like a boulder dropped into a calm lake, throwing the entire Lancaster household into chaos.
Soon, a flurry of chaotic, hurried footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor, growing closer, accompanied by stifled breaths.
Theodore Lancaster was at the forefront. His majestic face, usually as steady as a mountain and in complete control, was now etched with unconcealable anxiety.
He rushed over with long, swift strides, his suit tie askew from his haste, the veins on his temples throbbing.
Every step was taut, as if he were walking on eggshells, trying to outrun the fear rising in his heart.
Claire Sterling was also in a complete panic.
Her usually exquisite and meticulous makeup was now a total mess. Her eyeliner had smudged into dark shadows, and a few strands of hair had come loose in her panic, sticking to her cheeks.
Her eyes were red, her face stained with tears, and her steps were so unsteady she could barely stand. She ran toward them, propelled only by the last dregs of her willpower.
Julian Lancaster followed at her side, the atmosphere around him heavy, his eyes filled with worry.
As the three of them rounded the corner, they immediately spotted Wren Sutton.
She was holding Owen and Nina, her face as pale as if covered by a thin layer of snow, completely drained of color as she sat weakly on the bench.
Claire’s heart clenched instantly, and she practically stumbled as she rushed toward them.
Her gaze first fell anxiously on the two children. Seeing they had no obvious injuries, she felt a slight sense of relief.
Immediately after, her hands trembling, she carefully checked Wren for injuries.
"Thank heavens, you and the children are all right. Does your arm still hurt? Are you dizzy?"
Wren shook her head, too distraught to speak.
Just then, a nurse informed Claire Sterling that Wren had only sustained superficial wounds, and the two children were completely unharmed, reassuring the family.
Hearing this, the three Lancasters let out a collective sigh of relief, their frayed nerves finally relaxing a fraction.
However, this relief, which lasted only a few seconds, was quickly submerged by a much deeper pain and sorrow.
Their gazes shifted to the closed operating room door, its red light glowing, and the air instantly froze.
Claire’s body swayed violently. She staggered and braced herself against the nearby wall to keep from falling.
She covered her mouth, stifling a sob.
As a mother, this kind of waiting was a slow, agonizing torture. Every passing second made her heart ache to the point of suffocation.
Especially since Adrian Lancaster had already fought with death once not long ago. How much time had passed before he was back in the operating room?
This was simply killing Claire.
"Heavens, how can you be so cruel? To do this to my son."
Theodore Lancaster turned his back, his brow deeply furrowed. His gaze, usually as sharp as a hawk’s, was now bloodshot, revealing profound exhaustion and anguish.
He stood in silence, exuding a heavy, suffocating aura.
Julian Lancaster’s expression was also grim to the extreme, his gaze fixed on the operating room, full of worry.
Beyond that, he radiated a hostile energy, clearly furious about the accident. He slammed his fist against the wall with a THUD.
"Damn that truck driver!"
Looking at the grief-stricken Claire, Wren’s self-blame and guilt surged to a peak, threatening to consume her entirely.
She lowered her head, not daring to meet Claire’s tear-filled eyes, and even less daring to face Theodore’s heavy gaze.
"It’s my fault for insisting on going back today. I’m the one who hurt him."
The thought was a mountain pressing down on Wren’s heart. She couldn’t forgive herself.
For her, this long wait was its own form of cruel punishment.
"Silly child, how could this be your fault?" Although Claire was devastated, she hadn’t lost her senses.
She sobbed, "The real culprit is that truck driver. He was drunk driving and speeding. He deserved to die for what he did, but he still had to drag Adrian down with him!"
Julian wasn’t willing to let it go. Ignoring the injury on his own hand, he walked over to Theodore Lancaster.
"Dad, I don’t think this is that simple. I don’t believe this was an accident. If the police won’t investigate, I will."
Theodore’s hands, hanging at his sides, clenched into tight fists, his gaze turning sharp and cold.
If this really was orchestrated by someone, he would find that person and grind their bones to dust.
"Let’s wait for your brother to wake up first."
The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant and the faint, yet unmistakable, scent of blood.
After a while, Theodore reined in his menacing aura and turned to Wren Sutton, arranging for a driver to take her and the children home.
Wren refused to leave, insisting on staying.
Theodore understood how she felt and tried to persuade her with a heavy heart.
"Owen and Nina have been through a shock. They need to be comforted properly, and the hospital isn’t the place for that."
"The children are so young; they can’t be without their mother. For their sake, you need to go home."
"We’ll keep watch here. Don’t worry. We’ll let you know if there’s any news."
Claire Sterling agreed, patting Wren’s hand and adding on.
"Listen to your father and take the children home first. This has nothing to do with you, so please don’t blame yourself. Taking care of yourself and the children is the best way you can help Adrian right now."
Wren’s eyes were red as tears streamed down her face.
The more understanding her family was, the more guilt she felt.
"I’ve failed him. He was only so badly hurt because he was protecting me and the children."
"If I leave now, my conscience won’t be able to take it."