Donovan had been fitted with an oxygen mask again. His condition had clearly worsened.
The doctors had just run another round of tests, and the results were grim. The organs damaged in the crash had suffered new trauma from the recent assault, with signs of fresh bleeding. He needed to be rushed back into the emergency unit.
As the stretcher rolled him away, Giselle had no choice but to follow, her chest tightening with each step.
While Donovan was being treated, Giselle found herself once again barred from the emergency room, left to endure the torment of waiting outside.
She knew Donovan's life wasn't in immediate danger, but the thought of him nearly healed—almost able to get out of bed—only to suffer another brutal blow left her drowning in regret.
She should never have stayed away these past days. She should have been here, at his side, guarding him. If she had, Anne would never have had the chance to unleash her madness.
The car accident had nearly killed him once. He had clawed his way back from the brink, only to be battered again and again. Even a machine couldn't withstand so much punishment.
Cold and hollow, Giselle collapsed onto a chair. Her mind filled with images of Donovan's broken body behind those doors. It felt as if a thousand pounds were pressing down on her chest.
Perhaps the attending physician had contacted the Kane family. An hour later, Dorothea and Ethan arrived at the emergency wing. Still trying to make sense of the situation, they spotted Giselle slumped on a bench and turned on her at once.
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