Chapter 411 Dylan Wants to Commit Suicide
Amelia and Anna waited patiently by the door after finishing their morning routine. When Frederick emerged, neatly dressed, he saw them standing in the hallway, hand in hand. With a smile, he strode toward them and scooped Anna up into his arms.
Amelia chuckled and teased, "If you keep carrying her all day, she won't learn to walk."
Anna, hearing Amelia's words, immediately wiggled her legs and declared, "I can walk."
Amelia, realizing Anna didn't understand the meaning behind her words, helplessly rubbed Anna's little head, her face full of affection.
Frederick carried Anna downstairs, where Vincent was already seated at the dining table, waiting. As soon as he saw them, he stood up and adjusted Anna's high chair.
Frederick bent down to settle Anna into the chair, and she obediently sat still, ready for breakfast.
Vincent had also heard Susan mention that Frederick stayed in Amelia's room last night, so he wasn't surprised. Instead, he asked with a smile, "Did you sleep well last night?"
Frederick nodded. "It was fine. Thank you for your concern, Mr. Davis."
Vincent nodded in satisfaction and started chatting with Frederick about other topics.
Today's breakfast was oatmeal. Frederick tied a bib around Anna while chatting with Vincent.
It was a very relaxed atmosphere.
Today, Frederick still kept Anna by his side. Vincent didn't plan to go fishing today, so he decided to join Frederick in visiting the Hastings Group.
Amelia didn't understand what was so interesting about the Hastings Group, but that didn't dampen Vincent's enthusiasm.
The group left together. Amelia had intended to drive herself, but Frederick insisted on not letting her drive.
In the end, Felix dropped her off at the hospital entrance.
As soon as Amelia got out of the car, she saw an ambulance arriving at the hospital entrance. Her colleagues quickly pushed a stretcher into the hospital.
Upon closer observation, she saw Cynthia getting out of the ambulance, running alongside the stretcher.
Amelia quickly said goodbye to Anna and walked briskly into the hospital.
At the emergency room entrance, she saw Cynthia sitting on the ground, emotionally distraught and crying.
Several nurses surrounded Cynthia, trying to calm her down.
Amelia frowned tightly and walked over, speaking up. "Mrs. Kingsley."
Hearing Amelia's voice, Cynthia turned and looked at her, her face full of hope. She scrambled up from the ground and walked over, tightly grabbing Amelia's hand. "Amelia, save Dylan. He's dying," she cried.
Amelia took a deep breath. She hadn't seen who was on the stretcher when she came in, but seeing Cynthia arriving along with it had given her a bad feeling. "Mrs. Kingsley, don't worry. My colleagues are doing their best to save Dylan. Please calm down," she reassured.
Amelia patted Cynthia's back. Cynthia was sobbing uncontrollably, unable to form a complete sentence.
Amelia listened patiently and finally understood what Cynthia was saying.
Cynthia had been worried about Dylan's condition since last night, so after everyone left, she stayed on the couch in Dylan's suite.
She checked Dylan's room periodically throughout the night. Early this morning, she heard some noise from the room and went to check on him again, only to find that the door was locked from the inside.
Sensing that something was wrong, Cynthia immediately got the hotel staff to open the door.
They found Dylan lying in the bathtub, having slit his wrists.
Cynthia had carefully removed all dangerous items from Dylan's room the night before, not even leaving a cup.
But Dylan had broken the bathroom mirror and used the shards to do the deed.
Amelia took a deep breath, her face turning grim.
Cynthia, her fingers gripping Amelia's arm desperately, spoke with raw intensity. "Amelia, Dylan is my only son. I can't stand the thought of losing him. Even if he's not with us in Fondaniss, I still want him to live."
Amelia nodded, her heart weighed down with empathy. "I understand, Mrs. Kingsley. We'll do everything we can."
Tears streaming down her face, Cynthia choked on her words, "Harold's heartlessness and Dylan's naivety... it's all too much." Harold's absence was glaringly apparent; he hadn't come to the hospital despite the gravity of the situation.
Just yesterday, Amelia had overheard Harold's angry outburst at Dylan as the elevator doors closed, fury and disdain flickering in his eyes. Harold, obsessed with his reputation, had become a laughingstock in Kasfee after Dylan and Ken's affair had become public. His reaction was as expected—cold and dismissive.
"Did you inform Mr. Kingsley about Dylan’s condition?" Amelia asked softly.
Cynthia nodded tearfully, "I did. I called him from the ambulance. But he refused to come to the hospital and said that if Dylan died, he wouldn't attend his funeral."
Cynthia's voice was hoarse, and her expression full of fear and uncertainty.
Amelia patted Cynthia's back, and Cynthia leaned on Amelia's shoulder, crying uncontrollably.
Listening to Cynthia's sobs, Amelia felt very conflicted.
Cynthia continued, "Dylan takes relationships too seriously. Ken clearly just wanted to toy with his feelings. Otherwise, he wouldn't have left Dylan in Kasfee to go to Fondaniss with Line, and he wouldn't have released that video to attack Dylan."
Amelia patted Cynthia's back, unsure of how to comfort her.
Cynthia cried uncontrollably until the emergency room door opened. She hastily wiped her tears and stumbled to the door.
The doctor reported, "The patient is out of immediate danger. Fortunately, he was found in time. Considering the depth of his wounds, he might not have made it if he had been found any later. From now on, you need to monitor the patient's mental state closely."
Cynthia let out a relieved sigh, gratitude evident in her voice. "Thank you, thank you, doctor. Thank you so much."
"There's no need to thank me; we're just doing our job," the doctor replied politely, removing Cynthia's hand from his arm and giving a few more instructions. "The patient's emotions are very unstable at the moment, so family members must stay by his side to prevent a recurrence."
Cynthia nodded, "I won't leave, not even for a moment."
Amelia supported Cynthia, also breathing a sigh of relief.
After the doctor left, Dylan was transferred to the inpatient ward.
Amelia returned to her office, met with her team, and then went to check on Dylan's room.
Dylan was awake. Due to blood loss, his lips were as pale as the sheets he was lying on. He stared blankly out the window, his expression lifeless, as though he had lost his soul.
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