Chapter 436 Do You Have Any Conscience?
Amelia was always stressing about Dylan. After getting home, she hit up Cynthia to check on him. Cynthia told her Dylan was doing okay and that a shrink had seen him, which made Amelia feel a bit better.
The Kingsley family had been through a lot lately, so Amelia didn't want to bug Cynthia any more.
A few days later, Amelia got some gut-wrenching news that Dylan had jumped off a building at Harold's company.
He'd jumped from the ninth floor, but somehow an awning on the first floor broke his fall, saving him from instant death. He was rushed to the nearest hospital for emergency care.
When Amelia heard, she sped to the hospital.
Cynthia was in shock, sitting outside the emergency room. Even when Amelia showed up, she still looked out of it.
Harold was there too, looking pretty grim. He was sitting on another chair, gave Amelia a quick glance, but didn't say anything. He looked seriously worried.
Amelia sat next to Cynthia, her face full of concern, and gently called out, "Mrs. Kingsley."
Cynthia finally looked up at Amelia, her face confused. It took her a moment to react, then she reached out and grabbed Amelia's hand, trembling.
Cynthia's voice shook as she said, "Amelia, you're here? Dylan jumped off a building."
Her voice cracked, and her eyes were full of desperate hope as she looked at Amelia, like she was searching for some kind of reassurance.
Cynthia mumbled, "Amelia, you said Dylan was really lucky. He can still make it this time, right?"
Amelia took a deep breath, feeling the weight of Cynthia's desperate gaze. Any hint of doubt might break her completely.
"Mrs. Kingsley, you need to stay calm," Amelia said softly, holding Cynthia's hand. "Believe that Dylan can pull through."
Cynthia nodded blankly and quickly wiped away her tears. She muttered, "Yes, Dylan will definitely pull through. He's always been a lucky kid, so he'll make it. He can get through this just like before."
She kept repeating those words.
Harold's phone kept buzzing. Finally, he glanced at Cynthia and Amelia, then got up and walked to the emergency exit to take the call.
"Have they all been deleted?" His voice was low, his eyes darting around, worried someone might overhear.
After getting a clear answer, Harold sighed in relief and said in a deep voice, "Don't come to the company for a while. Stay home and take care of yourself. Come back after this blows over. Right now, don't think about anything else. Don't cause me any trouble."
His voice was full of frustration as he said the last part.
The other person quickly hung up.
Harold gritted his teeth, pulled himself together, and walked back to his seat.
Cynthia didn't ask who called, but Harold explained anyway. "It was a reporter asking about Dylan. Turn off your phone for a while to avoid being hounded by reporters."
Cynthia shot Harold a look filled with pure hatred. "What did you say to Dylan?" she snapped.
Dylan had been doing better lately. Even the psychologist said he was improving. They were planning to go abroad. Cynthia had been packing some bags to send over first. But while she was packing, Dylan left and went to Harold's company. He called her when he got there.
Cynthia was worried Dylan might get upset at Harold's place, so she quickly grabbed a cab to follow him. Just as she arrived, Dylan jumped from the top. He almost fell right in front of her.
Seeing her son fall like that left Cynthia in shock, and it took her a while to snap out of it.
Harold frowned, clearly annoyed by Cynthia's questioning. He scolded, his eyes full of blame, "Don't you know your own son? Who at the company would dare say anything to him? He couldn't handle it and jumped, putting the company under media scrutiny. If you had watched him better, none of this would have happened."
Cynthia's face stiffened, guilt washing over her from Harold's accusations. If she had watched Dylan better, he wouldn't have gone to Harold's company, and maybe nothing would have happened. He wouldn't have jumped.
Tears streamed down Cynthia's face as she clutched her collar, looking pained and distressed.
Seeing this, Amelia quickly tried to comfort her.
After work, Frederick dropped Anna off at the Davis Manor and then came to the hospital.
With Frederick there, Harold didn't dare say much and just quietly sat on the chair, waiting.
The emergency treatment lasted six hours.
Finally, a nurse came out of the emergency room and said seriously, "The patient is now out of danger. But the situation is not optimistic. His brain is severely damaged. Whether he wakes up depends on tonight. Your family should stay here tonight."
Cynthia almost collapsed after hearing the nurse's words, her body going limp.
Amelia quickly supported her.
While Harold's expression stayed calm, like he had already accepted this outcome. He even muttered, "Stop crying! If he wants to die, let him die. Living might be torture for him."
Harold glanced at Cynthia, clearly annoyed by her behavior in front of others.
Frederick's eyes darkened, and he gave Harold a cold look, making Harold shut up.
Cynthia was furious at Harold's words. She stormed over to him and hit him, shouting, "You have other sons now, and that woman is pregnant again. Of course, you want Dylan to die! If Dylan dies, no one will compete with those two bastards for the inheritance. No matter what, Dylan is your son. Do you even have any conscience?"
Harold's face was full of impatience as he pushed Cynthia away. He snapped, his expression dark and gloomy, "He's tried to kill himself several times. If he really dies, wouldn't it be his own wish? Don't push the blame on me. I never wanted him to die!"
Actually, Harold had long been fed up with his disgraceful son, Dylan!
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