Chapter 203: Did Magnus Also Have a Car Accident?
The truck driver quickly got out of the vehicle.
The window of the white Mercedes had already been shattered. He reached inside and felt for Sinclair's nose, then said, "She's still breathing, not dead!"
"Finish her off," Patricia said.
"What did you say?" The track driver couldn't believe what he had just heard.
Not far away, Patricia, sitting in her car, had a sinister look in her eyes. She repeated, "I said, finish her off."
The truck driver was reluctant, "I don't dare do that! You do it yourself!"
He was drunk when he hit someone while driving—at worst, a drunk driving accident. Even if the victim pressed charges, the sentence wouldn't be severe.
But if he killed Sinclair now, it would be murder!
Seeing the truck driver's reluctance, Patricia was about to lose her temper.
In the distance, the sound of police sirens could be heard.
The truck driver was terrified. "The cops are coming! You better leave now! If they find out this was a murder, it will be a whole different story! If you want to die, don't drag me down with you!"
Patricia hung up the phone.
She couldn't worry about that now; she had to run.
As for Sinclair...
A vicious glint flashed in Patricia's eyes.
The white car was already so badly damaged. Even if Sinclair was still breathing, she likely wouldn't make it until the ambulance arrived.
And Sinclair was pregnant.
Unless she was really lucky, she was as good as dead.
With that thought, Patricia gripped the steering wheel and drove away.
Late night, Santa Maria Hospital.
When Michael arrived at the operating room, Sinclair had already been taken in for surgery!
A staff member brought over a consent form for him to sign, "Are you a relative of Sinclair?"
"Yes, I'm her fiancé," Michael replied.
"Then please sign the consent form quickly! She's in critical condition!" The staff said.
Michael's heart skipped a beat and almost stopped. He hurriedly signed the form.
The doctor calmly reminded him, "There's a strong chance that she might not be able to carry the baby to term. I want you to be prepared for that possibility."
Michael stood there, seemingly unable to process the bad news.
His eyes trembled with fear.
After a moment, Michael swallowed hard and said, "Alright, just save her!"
"We'll do our best! But she lost a lot of blood when she was brought in. It's hard to say. Just wait," the doctor said.
Michael didn't say anything more. He stood at the door of the operating room, his whole body rigid, as if a giant hand were squeezing his heart, making it hard to breathe.
The surgery dragged on.
He sat outside, his arms resting on his legs, his head hanging low.
His phone rang; it was his assistant, Luke.
It must be a lead on the car accident.
He answered the call, "Hello."
"Mr. Johnson, the police have interrogated the truck driver. He was driving under the influence of alcohol and accidentally hit Ms. Cross's car. He's currently held in custody."
Michael wasn't in the mood to listen to this, "You handle it. Sinclair is still undergoing surgery. We'll talk after she's out."
If something happened to Sinclair, he would sue the driver to the fullest extent.
But why was Sinclair's car near Maple Street?
She said she was going to buy pasta nearby, but Maple Street was far from Maple Villa.
About an hour later.
Another doctor came to inform him, "Mr. Johnson, I'm sorry, but we couldn't save the baby. We're still trying to save Sinclair."
The baby was gone.
Michael was momentarily stunned.
He had just recently learned about Sinclair's pregnancy. At that time, he had mixed feelings.
Later on, when he realized he wanted to marry Sinclair and build a life with her, he was genuinely happy about the baby.
He had started looking forward to the baby's birth, even leaning down to listen for fetal movements.
He had even bought many books about pregnancy and childbirth, but hadn't had the chance to read them.
And now the baby was gone.
He stood there, his expression wooden, but his eyes were red.
"Please, save Sinclair!" he pleaded.
His voice was tinged with a slight tremor.
After the doctor left, Michael collapsed into a chair, feeling as though he had been plunged into an ice cellar, his blood running cold.
The quiet of the operating room was interrupted by his phone ringing again.
This time, he didn't even check the caller ID and answered numbly.
Patricia's voice came through the phone, "Michael, I just got back from the bar. Why is no one home? Where are you and Sinclair?"
Michael was silent for a few seconds before slowly speaking. "Sinclair was in a car accident and is in the hospital."
"What? Is she okay?" Patricia asked, sounding very shocked and surprised.
"The baby didn't make it. She's still in surgery," Michael replied sadly.
Patricia expressed concern. "Michael, don't be too sad. Do you want me to come over and keep you company?"
"No need," he said curtly, then hung up the phone.
He didn't have the time nor the energy to deal with Patricia now.
He looked up at the lit operating room.
He just hoped Sinclair would make it through the surgery.
As long as she was okay, he would do anything.
After hanging up the phone, Patricia's heart was pounding.
She held her phone to her chest, trying to calm down.
Sinclair lost the baby. If she didn't make it either... then no one would question Juniper's mother's death.
It was all Sinclair's fault for not listening to her warning!
If she hadn't meddled so much, Patricia wouldn't have wanted to kill her!
It was all her own fault.
Patricia comforted herself this way, leaning against the bedroom door, breathing heavily.
Her face was covered in cold sweat.
But knowing that Sinclair was in critical condition and might not wake up even if she survived the surgery, Patricia felt much more at ease.
That night, Magnus didn't return to Royal View.
Juniper had trouble sleeping, even with her phone turned off.
So, she turned her phone back on.
Sinclair had called her?
Was something wrong?
She called back, but it rang for a long time before Michael answered.
After Michael explained the situation, Juniper was very surprised.
But life wass unpredictable, and Juniper didn't know how to comfort him. She could only say, "Sinclair will be fine. You haven't had your wedding yet. She will wake up."
"Yes, thank you," Michael replied sadly.
Juniper hung up the phone.
A car accident.
Magnus had been drinking tonight. Did he drive himself?
Thinking of this, Juniper's eyelid twitched.
She called him, but it rang for a long time with no answer.
The feeling of unease grew stronger.
She called three times, but Magnus didn't answer.
Desperate, she called Paul, "Paul, do you know where Magnus is?"
"We're at the hospital," came Paul's reply.
"What? Did he have an accident?"
Juniper was shocked.
Paul was also stunned by the turn of events.
Looking at Magnus, lying half-dead on the hospital bed, a thought struck Paul: why not use this to his advantage?
"Yes! Mr. Blackwood had a fender bender after drinking!" Paul said.
"How is he now?"Juniper asked.
"He's lost a lot of blood. I just signed the consent form. Ms. Beaumont, do you want to come over? I'm afraid if you come a little later, you might not get to see him one last time!" Paul warned.
Juniper turned pale with fright.
Her mind went blank.
She quickly got out of bed. "Is it Santa Maria Hospital? I'm coming right now!"
"Yes, it's Santa Maria Hospital. Please drive safely!" Paul said.
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