Chapter 655

He couldn't understand it.

How could Vivian Bennett's condition be critical?

He had only pushed her.

She fell against the table.

It should have been a minor injury.

That's why he had brought Luna Clark to the hospital first.

"Oliver, what are you talking about?" he shouted into the phone. "I'm asking about Vivian. Don't change the subject."

Oliver Winston fell silent on the other end.

He gave a bitter smile.

So Liam really didn't know how badly Vivian was hurt.

If he knew he had abandoned someone with life-threatening injuries, the regret would be crushing.

"Liam, I'm not lying," Oliver's voice grew low and serious. "When I got there, she was barely conscious. The abdominal injury was severe. Before the doctors took her in, they told me to prepare myself."

Liam Sullivan felt his heart clench violently.

His blood seemed to freeze in his veins.

Something sharp and cold pierced through his chest.

The phone slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

Oliver's voice still came from the receiver, but Liam couldn't hear it anymore.

His mind went blank.

He stood frozen in place, like a statue.

The hallway smelled of antiseptic.

The harsh fluorescent lights made him dizzy.

The empty corridor felt suffocatingly oppressive.

He stood there for a long time.

So long that a passing doctor stopped to ask if he was feeling unwell.

His face was deathly pale, as if he were gravely ill.

Liam suddenly snapped back to reality.

Then, as if struck by something, he bolted forward like a madman.

He ran up to the eighth floor.

Seeing Oliver, he rushed over and grabbed his shoulders.

"Oliver, you're lying to me." His face twisted in agony. "It's just a minor injury. You're trying to scare me, right? Tell me I'm right?"

Oliver looked at his friend's frantic, tortured expression and couldn't speak.

Liam's pain was too raw, too real.

He had been somewhat critical of Liam's actions earlier, but now he couldn't bring himself to voice any blame.

Both of them were pitiful in their own ways.

And worse pain was likely still to come.

If Vivian died, what would become of Liam?

Even if she survived, she would never accept him again.

Things could only spiral downward from here.

The weight of the thought pressed heavily on Oliver.

He could only pat Liam's shoulder.

"Liam, don't worry," he tried to offer comfort. "Vivian is a strong woman. She won't go down easily. The surgery will be successful."

In truth, he wasn't sure.

But he felt that Vivian was like grass after a wildfire.

Seemingly fragile and pitiful, yet possessing a tenacious vitality.

Always capable of sprouting new shoots.

Liam, however, seemed not to hear him at all.

He pressed his hands against his head in agony.

The events of the day churned violently in his mind.

He had burst into the room.

He saw her pointing a gun at Luna.

Guilt over Luna made him shove Vivian aside without a second thought.

In his panic, he hadn't controlled his strength.

He pushed her into the table.

At that moment, he thought he heard a thud.

But another sound had dominated his thoughts—the gunshot.

Now, looking back, that thud was exceptionally clear.

Exceptionally heavy.

Why hadn't he looked back then?

Why hadn't he glanced at her?

Liam lowered his hands. His eyes were bloodshot.

"Where is the operating room?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Oliver pointed toward the end of the corridor.

Liam turned to rush over, but Oliver grabbed his arm.

"Liam, going there now is pointless," Oliver said quietly. "The surgery is still ongoing. You can't go in. And... what about Luna? Are you just going to leave her?"

Liam's body stiffened.

Luna.

He had almost forgotten.

He had brought her to the hospital but didn't even know her condition.

"She..." Liam struggled to speak. "How is she?"

"The bullet grazed her shoulder. No vital organs were hit," Oliver reported. "It's been treated. She's resting in a room now."

Liam felt a wave of relief.

But immediately, a deeper, more profound pain surged up.

For Luna's sake, he had abandoned Vivian.

And Vivian... her life now hung in the balance.

"I'll go see her," Liam said, his voice still rough. "Then... I'll wait outside the operating room."

Oliver nodded.

Watching Liam's staggering retreating figure, he sighed heavily.

Fate could be cruel.

If Liam had known how badly Vivian was injured, would he have made the same choice?

Probably not.

But there were no 'ifs' in this world.

Some choices, once made, could never be taken back.

Liam walked to the door of Luna's room.

Through the glass, he saw her lying in the hospital bed.

Her face was pale, but her breathing was steady.

A nurse was changing her bandages.

He should go in.

He should comfort her, tell her everything was alright.

But he couldn't lift his foot.

His mind was filled with the image of Vivian lying in a pool of blood.

He hadn't seen it, but Oliver's description was vivid enough.

Vivid enough to suffocate him.

He turned and walked toward the operating room.

He sat down on a bench in the hallway.

He rested his head in his hands.

Time ticked by.

Each second felt like a year.

The door to the operating room remained firmly shut.

The red light above it stayed lit.

Liam stared at that light, unblinking.

If it went out, what would the result be?

He didn't dare think about it.

He could only wait.

Wait for an unknown outcome.

Wait for news that might shatter him.

The hallway was terrifyingly quiet.

Only the sound of his own breathing.

Heavy. Oppressive.

He didn't know how much time had passed when the operating room door finally opened.

A doctor walked out, removing his mask.

Liam sprang to his feet and rushed over.

"Doctor, how is she?" His voice trembled.

The doctor looked at him.

"Are you family?"

Liam opened his mouth.

Family?

What kind of family was he?

"I... I'm a friend," he finally said.

The doctor nodded.

"The surgery went reasonably well," the doctor said. "But the patient lost a lot of blood. The injuries were severe. The next forty-eight hours are critical. If she can pull through that, there's hope."

Liam's heart sank further.

"And if... she doesn't pull through?"

The doctor was silent for a moment.

"Prepare yourself," he said, then turned and walked away.

Liam stood rooted to the spot, a chill spreading through his body.

Prepare himself.

How was he supposed to do that?

Prepare to accept that she might die?

No.

He couldn't.

Oliver walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Go see her," Oliver said. "She's been moved to the ICU. You can look at her through the glass."

Liam followed Oliver to the ICU viewing window.

Through the glass, he saw Vivian lying on the bed.

Tubes and wires were connected to her body.

Her face was as pale as paper.

Her breathing was so faint he could barely see her chest rise and fall.

She was so still.

Too still to be her.

Liam pressed his hand against the glass.

His fingertips were ice-cold.

"Vivian..." he whispered her name.

But she couldn't hear him.

She lay there, so close, yet so far away.

Close enough to be separated by only a pane of glass.

Far enough that she might never wake up.

Liam closed his eyes.

Tears finally slid down his cheeks.

He was wrong.

So terribly wrong.

He shouldn't have pushed her.

He shouldn't have left her.

He shouldn't have... let her bear this alone.

But now, regret was too late.

Far too late.