Chapter 382 Charles
The hospital corridor reeked of disinfectant. The red light above the emergency room door flicked off, and the doctor emerged, pulling down his mask. "The wound looks nasty, but it's not deep. No vital organs were hit. We've cleaned and stitched it up. He just needs some time to heal."
Emma finally felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Thank you! Can I see him now?"
The doctor nodded. "Yeah, but keep it short. He needs to rest."
Emma walked into the hospital room and saw George lying on the bed, his face still pale. His side was wrapped in thick bandages, and his eyes were closed. Hearing her footsteps, he slowly opened his eyes, looking at Emma with a weak but loving gaze.
"Emma," he whispered, his voice filled with an almost unbelievable happiness.
Emma rushed to his side and took his hand. "George, are you okay? Does it hurt?"
George shook his head slightly. "With you here, I'm not afraid of anything." He gently squeezed her hand. "Emma, have you really remembered everything?"
Emma nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "Yes, I remember. I don't know why, but seeing your blood brought everything back. Some parts are still a bit fuzzy, but I remember our love, and how we met."
"I thought I had lost you. Watching you stand by someone else's side, calling someone else's name, it nearly drove me insane."
"I'm sorry, George. I don't know what happened. How could I forget you and get engaged to Michael? Everyone said we had broken up, and even Mia seemed to accept Michael. What really happened?"
George held her hand tightly. "Don't worry, Emma. We have plenty of time to figure everything out. For now, just know that I never stopped loving you, not for a single moment."
Emma leaned down and kissed his forehead gently. "Me too, George. No matter what happens, I'll always be by your side."
In the days that followed, Emma stayed by George's side almost constantly. She took care of his every need, from changing his bandages to feeding him, with meticulous attention.
George recovered quickly, his complexion gradually becoming healthier. Every time he saw Emma bustling around, his eyes sparkled with happiness, as if having her there made his world perfect.
However, their peaceful days were interrupted by an unwelcome visitor. Every afternoon at three, the door to the hospital room would be knocked on, and Michael would walk in, carrying fruit or nutritional supplements, his face expressionless.
"I came to check on you," he would usually say, then sit in a corner chair, silently watching Emma and George.
George wasn't warm towards him, but he didn't drive him away either. Emma felt an indescribable awkwardness—she had almost no memory of Michael, yet she knew she had been about to marry him.
"Why do you keep coming?" George finally asked one day when Emma had stepped out to get some medicine.
Michael stared out the window for a long time, his voice low. "I just want to make sure she's truly happy."
"She's happy with me," George said calmly.
Michael turned, a hint of sarcasm in his eyes. "Really? Do you remember how things ended the last time you were together?"
George was silent.
"I won't give up, George," Michael said, standing up and walking to the bedside. "Maybe Emma's chosen you now, but if she ever remembers how you hurt her, do you think she'll stay with you?"
George looked Michael in the eye. "If that day comes, I'll accept her choice. But until then, I'll do everything I can to make up for the past and give her the happiness she deserves."
Michael sneered, "How touching! I hope you mean it." He turned to leave. "I won't let go."
George watched Michael's lonely figure disappear, saying nothing.
He knew that loving someone sometimes meant letting go, and neither he nor Michael could do that.
A week later, George's wound had healed well enough for the doctor to discharge him. As Emma was packing their things to leave, George's phone rang.
George answered, and as the conversation went on, his expression grew serious.
"What's wrong?" Emma asked, worried.
George hung up, his face troubled. "It was Clarity Medical Center. Grandpa's medical bills are overdue. If we don't pay soon, they'll stop his treatment."
"Grandpa?" Emma was stunned. "Is he sick?"
George realized that Emma's second personality had no memory of Charles's condition. He took her hand. "Grandpa's been in a coma, a vegetative state. He's been in the hospital for a while."
Emma was shocked. "Grandpa's in a coma? Why didn't anyone tell me? Is he okay?"
George shook his head. "I don't know the details. I've been so busy, I haven't visited him much. The nurse said his condition isn't good."
"Let's go see Grandpa right now!" Emma grabbed her bag. "George, can you walk? Do you need a wheelchair?"
George stood up, wincing slightly but determined. "No, I can walk. It is more important than anything to see Grandpa."
They headed to a small rehabilitation hospital on the outskirts of town. George didn't understand why Charles had been moved there, and he wondered if the high-end caregiver he had hired was still looking after Charles.
George had a bad feeling.
"We're here to see Charles. Which room is he in?" George asked at the nurse's station.
The nurse checked the records. "Charles is in room 307, but..." She hesitated.
"But what?" George pressed.
The nurse lowered her voice. "The private caregiver you arranged was dismissed. The family said they didn't need her anymore. Since then, Charles's condition has deteriorated rapidly."
George frowned. "What? I arranged for a professional caregiver to look after Grandpa. My mother told me the caregiver was doing a great job."
The nurse shook her head, hesitant to say more. "You should see for yourself."
As they walked to the room, Emma clung to George's hand, her heart filled with anxiety. She remembered Charles as a charming old gentleman, a business legend in the city, who treated her like his own granddaughter.
When they opened the door, the sight that greeted them was shocking.
The room was bare, the curtains drawn, and the air reeked of urine.
Charles lay on the bed, emaciated and frail. There were no flowers or fruit by his bedside, only a few nearly empty IV bottles. Even more horrifying, Charles had visible bedsores, some of which were infected and looked extremely painful.
On the other side of the bed, Scarlett sat engrossed in her phone, ignoring Charles's groans.
"Grandpa!" Emma shouted, rushing to the bedside.
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