Chapter 458 Seize the Opportunity Before It's Gone
Jerry only learned about Willard's serious condition when Louis stepped into his hospital room again.
He'd initially thought it was just a back injury that would keep Willard down temporarily. But the next morning, Willard still couldn't get up on his own.
Anne hadn't slept all night, sitting by his bedside keeping watch. The nurses had her tracking everything—times, symptoms, the works. Willard needed a catheter since he couldn't move, and he'd tried to send her away over it. Even after he'd said some pretty harsh things, she refused to leave. Eventually the medication knocked him out, and shame became irrelevant.
When he woke to daylight and tried to get up, he discovered he couldn't.
Anne kept replaying Louis's words from yesterday. His medical expertise was unmatched—when he spoke, every word mattered. His bedside manner might be ice-cold, but he never wasted breath on nonsense.
Seeing Willard's face go pale, she rushed to find Louis.
Louis showed up late. He was doing a rotation at this hospital, teaching students and making morning rounds. Plus, after Willard's attitude yesterday, he figured the man could use some suffering—physical and emotional.
So he finished rounds, saw patients in clinic, grabbed lunch, then finally strolled into Willard's room.
"What took you so long? Planning to show up next year?" Willard said coldly.
Louis's expression remained flat. "I could come next year, if you want to spend it flat on your back."
Willard fell silent, then said through gritted teeth, "Just examine your patient."
Louis already knew the full extent of the injuries from yesterday. Willard wes severe—beyond his usual scope of practice. He hadn't said anything yesterday because Willard had signaled him not to.
"What exactly do you want me to say?" Louis asked.
Willard's eyes flicked to Anne. Already frustrated by his condition, his temper flared. "Don't make it sound like we had some conspiracy. I was unconscious yesterday."
Hearing Willard actually curse was rare enough to crack Louis's perpetual poker face. His lips curved slightly. "You were awake in the ER."
Willard's memory of yesterday was patchy—he remembered before passing out and waking up in the room, but the middle was a complete blank.
"What did I say?"
Louis had been cold since childhood, and years of medicine had made him even more detached. He dealt with desperate families constantly, always rushed, always direct. Cancer diagnosis? Straight facts, next patient. Comfort wasn't his department.
But now he felt a flicker of mischief. "You said plenty. Which part interests you?"
If Willard could move, he'd have thrown punches. "Your love life's a mess, so you can't stand seeing others happy?"
Louis shot back coolly, "Is yours happy?"
Willard was done. "Whatever. Say what you want. We're divorced anyway—clean break."
He added, "Perfect. Have someone escort her out. Ex-wives don't belong here."
Anne had been trying to learn about Willard's condition, but these two had been talking in circles.
"Dr. Armstrong, I need to know his medical situation."
Louis flipped through the chart. "What's it matter? You're divorced. Whether he lives or dies is none of your business."
"It is my business," Anne said quickly. "He got hurt because of me. If it weren't for me, I wouldn't ask."
Willard caught the flash of amusement in Louis's eyes—an emotion rarely visible on his face, gone in an instant. 'That bastard,' he cursed internally.
"Say what you came to say or get out. Stop with the theatrics," Willard snapped. "Even if you paint this as life-threatening, I don't need my ex-wife playing nurse. Say whatever you want."
A head nurse appeared, saying the chief wanted Louis. Time to cut to the chase.
"Everything else will heal with rest. The real problem is your spine. That blow didn't completely sever it, but when you twisted to shield her, you took the full impact on your vertebrae instead of distributing it across your back."
"After observing you overnight, the fact that you still can't sit up indicates spinal nerve damage. This could go either way—if you can't get up independently within a week, prepare for life in that bed."
Even Willard looked shaken. Anne couldn't hide her horror.
"Dr. Armstrong, are you saying... he might be paralyzed?"
Louis ignored Willard's warning glare. "It's possible. We'll know more in a week."
Willard hadn't planned on playing the sympathy card, but since the injury was this serious, why not give fate a push?
"I don't understand why he twisted away. Do you know what happened? Details help with treatment."
Anne perked up, hearing hope in Louis's words that he could treat this.
But Willard cut her off. "Anne, this isn't your fault. Don't take on guilt that isn't yours. If you insist on owing me, I might just collect."
Anne knew exactly what kind of payment Willard would demand. She clenched her fists. "If you really can't walk again, I'll remarry you and take care of you for life."
Willard wasn't sure whether to be happy about that.
Louis suddenly spoke up, "Aren't you going to seize this opportunity? It's perfect."
Willard's eyes blazed with fury. If looks could kill, Louis would be dead. "Shut up!"
Louis had already guessed who Willard had twisted to protect. He turned and walked out. He'd said what needed saying—even threw in some bonus relationship advice.
The room fell into awkward silence. Both started speaking at once:
"I—"
"You—"
"You first," Willard said.
Anne hesitated. "Whatever happens, you got hurt because of me. I can't just walk away. If you won't let me stay, I'll call Uma to come. At least then I'd know you're cared for."
Willard's thoughts raced, 'She's gotten smarter. Uma taking care of me? She'd probably finish me off. But maybe this really is an opportunity for us to start over...'
"I'd have saved anyone," he said finally. "You're not special to me, Anne. Don't read into it. Since we're divorced, let's not complicate things. This is what you wanted—what we both wanted. Leave with some dignity before I have to call security. For the sake of our grandfathers watching from heaven."
Anne felt her nose sting, emotions rising, tears gathering. She hated crying, especially during confrontations—it killed any authority she might have. Despite biting back the tears, they fell anyway.
"I'm not crying because of what you said. It's just my tear ducts acting up, you know that. Besides, I've said similar things to you before—I wouldn't get upset over a few words."
"But Willard, I don't believe you'd risk everything, even your life, for just anyone. If there is such a person, bring her here. I'd like to meet her. If there isn't, stop talking nonsense and rest. I'm taking care of you until you're better."
Willard knew Anne only looked soft and agreeable. In reality, she was determined and brave—whether loving him or not loving him.
In the end, Willard said nothing. Anne recognized this as his way of conceding—the same silent resignation he'd shown when she'd pushed him to do things he didn't want to do. Quiet, with that helpless look shadowing his features.
Elissa slept until noon, with Francis feeding her in between. When the sun reached its peak, she grabbed her phone and saw Hope's message. Instantly alert, she jumped up to wash and dress.
Francis already knew about last night. Seeing her rush out sockless in slippers, he scooped her up and set her on the sofa. "Don't move."
He fetched socks from the bedroom, knelt before her, and put them on, followed by her shoes.
Though Francis maintained his usual calm demeanor, Elissa sensed something different. "You knew last night?"
"Yes." Francis helped her up and toward the door.
"Then why didn't you stop?" she asked.
Francis had finally gotten his sex life back—no way he was stopping for anything. Besides, Willard playing hero and getting hurt wasn't his problem.
"I'm not a doctor. Louis was there—nothing to worry about."
Elissa wasn't worried about Willard; she was worried about Anne. If someone like Willard could get seriously injured, what about a delicate girl like Anne?
Francis clarified: "Anne's fine. Willard protected her and got severely injured. He might never walk again."
"What?" Elissa was shocked, but as she settled into the car, understanding dawned. "You didn't mention this last night because you wanted to help Willard, didn't you?"
Francis had replaced Felix with one of the Peterson family's trained men, someone Teddy had brought up who only answered to Francis. He was done with Felix's nonsense.
"Drive," he commanded.
"Yes, Mr. Peterson."
As they pulled out of the garage, Elissa asked absently, "Why the new driver today?"
"Felix is sick."
Felix, forcibly "sick," was currently chiseling ice in Arcturus with Hayden reluctantly supervising—Francis didn't trust Felix not to cause more trouble.
"Mr. Francis Peterson wants ice sculptures for Mrs. Elissa Peterson, says he'll carve them himself, so I'm here getting ice. But won't it melt by the time we reach Maple Valley? Summer's coming," Felix complained.
Francis could have gotten ice from any freezer. This was pure punishment, and poor Hayden was stuck with him.
Hayden kicked Felix. "Do your job! Mr. Peterson's waiting!"
Felix enjoyed the ice-chiseling but got unhappy without good food. When he stopped working, Hayden went to find him snacks. Fed and happy, Felix returned to work with renewed energy.
"Such a strong man getting sick must mean it's serious, or he wouldn't miss work," Elissa sighed. "After I see Anne, I'll check on him. You know, of all your people, I like Felix best."
Because he was utterly loyal to her.
Francis mentally sneered. Maybe Felix should never come back.
"You're pregnant. Don't risk infection. When he's better, I'll bring him back."
"Can't I just see him from a distance?"
"No. Think of the baby."
"Alright." She was convinced.
Anne continued her recording duties while Willard, much more alert today, watched her mumble into her phone, photographing and timing his bathroom schedule. He wanted to bash his head against the wall. What was the point of lying here paralyzed? She'd never love him again anyway.
"Willard, where are your people? I'll have them buy food you like."
Lost in thought, Willard didn't catch her full question. "I like you too."
Anne stared at him, took several deep breaths to suppress her emotions. She couldn't lose her temper with him like before—not now.
"I said..." She patiently repeated herself.
Willard laughed dryly. "I am hungry, actually." Then, realizing something, he called for Louis.
Louis strolled in casually. "What is it?"
Willard wanted to send Anne away, so he said, "Quinton is right outside. Find her."
Anne sensed Willard wanted to ask Louis something privately. "Can't you just call Quinton in here?"
Willard was nearly caught off guard. "I don't want to shout. I'm tired."
Seeing him lying there helpless, his usually perfect hair now limp, the powerful, intimidating Willard reduced to a lamb awaiting slaughter—and it was all because of her.
Watching Anne leave looking lost, Willard felt his heart ache.
"What did you need to ask privately?" Louis was coolly detached. "My time's valuable, so make it quick. And don't ask me to repeat anything about your condition—I've been clear."
Willard shook his head. "I want to know—can I really not get up today?"
Louis confirmed it.
"Then how do I use the bathroom?"
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