Anhurst Hospital.
As he watched Mika Sumrs get wheeled into the ergency room, all the strength drained from his body. If Ian Shaw hadn’t been there to catch him, he surely would have collapsed onto the floor.
"Tristan, we need to get that bullet out of your hand. Soone—"
Tristan Grayson violently shook off Ian’s arm, his voice cold as he stopped him from calling for help. "My hand is fine!"
"Tristan Grayson, do you fucking want to lose that hand?!" Ian’s patience snapped, and he roared furiously.
"Then let it be ruined!" It was just one hand. If sothing happened to Mika and the baby, what use would this hand be to him then?
Ian was stunned by Tristan’s words. Then, as if a thought struck him, he stared at Tristan in astonishnt. "Tristan Grayson, you’re willing to ruin your hand for a woman? Don’t tell you’ve actually fallen in love with her!"
"And so what if I have!" Tristan’s aggressive energy suddenly vanished. A bleak, tragic smile touched his lips.
Ian fell silent and leaned against the wall behind him. He watched Tristan’s hand, still dripping with blood, his expression a mixture of complex emotions.
Mika was in surgery for two full hours. For that entire ti, Tristan sat on a bench in the hallway without getting the bullet removed, his eyes fixed on the operating room doors.
Ian looked at Tristan’s pale, bloodless face, then down at the coagulated blood on his hand. He couldn’t let Tristan indulge this self-destructive behavior any longer. If this kept up, Tristan’s hand really would be crippled.
He called over a doctor and so nurses and had them forcibly take Tristan to another operating room.
About ten minutes after Tristan was taken away, Mika’s surgery concluded. She was moved to a special VIP ward.
Aiden Avery pulled off his surgical mask. He looked at Ian, his voice raspy. "Where is Gia Miller? I need to see her."
"She’s already been sent to prison. Why do you want to see her?"
"I want to make sure Gia Miller spends the rest of her life in there!"
...
When Tristan Grayson woke up, it was already the following afternoon. He saw Tiana slumped over the side of his bed, sobbing, and frowned slightly. "Tiana?"
"Brother! You’re awake!" Tiana sobbed.
"Tiana, where’s your sister-in-law? How is she?"
"Don’t worry, Brother. Her surgery was a success."
Hearing Tiana’s words, Tristan finally felt a sense of relief. But looking at his sister, who was a tear-stained ss, he felt a bit helpless. "If she’s okay, then what are you crying about?"
"Brother, I’m crying for you..." she wailed. "The doctor said... your hand is practically ruined. He said it’ll take three or four years of physical therapy if you ever want it to be as flexible as it was before." At this, Tiana burst into tears again.
"Heh... Ruined?" A small, humorless laugh escaped him. "Then let it be ruined." ’As long as she’s okay,’ he thought, ’what does one hand matter...’
"Brother... How can you say that?"
Tristan raised his left hand and gently wiped away her tears. "Stop crying. Your brother is still formidable, even with just one good hand."
"Brother, from now on, if you need anything done, just tell and I’ll do it for you," Tiana said, still crying.
Tristan managed a weak smile. "I want to see your sister-in-law now. Help get up."
"Okay... But Brother, you should prepare yourself..."
At her words, Tristan’s brows furrowed. "Prepared for what?"
"Her brother brought a lot of n with him. They’re guarding her room and won’t let anyone from our family in. Mom and Dad tried to see her at noon, and they were turned away."
"Archie Sumrs?" As he listened to Tiana, the feeling of unease in Tristan’s heart grew more intense. He threw back the blanket and climbed out of bed.
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