Chapter 88

At exactly 12:03 a.m., outside of the emergency room at the People's Hospital. Under the dim corridor lights, everything felt unusually still and heavy. A man, undeniably handsome and impeccably built, sat stiffly on a cold metal bench, eyes locked on the ER door without blinking. His pricey white dress shirt had a large bloodstain across the chest, the top two buttons missing, torn off during the chaos. Blood and sweat had soaked into the fabric, leaving dark traces against his skin. Edward’s chiseled face was unreadable, like it was wrapped in thick fog. His expression didn’t give away much, but his slightly bloodshot eyes exposed the torment churning inside. It had already been two hours since Alice was wheeled inside. The doctors weren’t out yet. His mind kept replaying that bone-chilling image—Alice lying motionless in a pool of blood, barely breathing, calling his name with what little strength she had left. So fragile. Like a porcelain doll shattered on the ground, broken beyond