She signaled to the bodyguards to pin me down. They tightened their grip, forcing me to the spot, while she shrieked like a woman possessed. “Teach us! You must teach the procedure! Whoever can perform it will do. Just save Luca!”
Grinding my teeth, I answered coldly, “I will teach. But only if you give me the surveillance footage from that operation five years ago.”
Her expression shifted like a storm. Her fists clenched, her eyes burned with hatred so sharp it seemed almost crimson.
Then, in a sudden, calculated move, she turned to Charlton and wrapped her arms around his neck.
In front of me, she kissed him hard, lips pressing like both accusation and bargain.
Her voice dropped into his ear. “Charlton… if Luca survives, the whole hospital will be yours. Help me. Please…”
I watched Charlton change. First came a flicker of uncertainty, then a settling quiet, and finally a cold, absolute hardness.
He reached out and pressed his hand onto my shoulder with ugly decisiveness. “I know what to do,” he said flatly.
Before I could gather myself, they dragged me… to my son’s grave.
The night wind tore through the cemetery. Stones gleamed cold and merciless.