Chapter 573 Almost Killed Her
Michael felt a sharp pain in his chest. He remembered how Emma used to see the world with the purest heart, and now, he saw the same light in five-year-old Seraphine.
"Seraphine," Michael buried his face in Seraphine's shoulder, his voice muffled, "if Daddy did something wrong, would you forgive him?"
Without hesitation, Seraphine nodded, her small hand gently patting Michael's back. "Mommy said that admitting your mistakes and fixing them makes you a good person." She lowered her voice, speaking conspiratorially, "Actually, Uncle George made a mistake before, but he saved Seraphine, so Seraphine forgave him!"
Michael's body tensed. He looked up at Seraphine's clear, innocent eyes, filled with nothing but trust and love. In that moment, the murderous intent boiling inside him melted away like snow.
Two days later, in the hospital's VIP ward.
George stubbornly refused the doctor's orders to stay in bed, insisting that the nurse wheel his bed to Emma's room. Through the glass window, he could see Emma's pale face and the tubes connected to her body.
"She needs another surgery on her knee," the attending physician said, flipping through her chart. "Her fractured ribs nearly punctured her lung. If she had been brought in half an hour later..."
"It's all my fault," George's voice was hoarse, his long fingers leaving streaks of blood on the glass. "I should have noticed her injuries."
From the adjacent children's ward came the sound of Seraphine's cheerful laughter. Though she had been frightened, knowing that Emma was out of danger had restored her lively spirit. She was now peering curiously out the window into the hallway.
"Uncle George!" Seraphine spotted George and waved excitedly. "Mommy moved her finger today! The doctor said she's waking up!"
A faint smile appeared on George's pale face. He wanted to respond to Seraphine, but a violent cough overtook him, and he spat blood onto his white hospital gown.
"Sir! You can't keep doing this!" The nurse pressed down on his bleeding bandages in a panic. "Your lungs are damaged too. You need to rest!"
George shook his head, stubbornly gripping the window frame. "I need to be here when she wakes up, to tell her..." His voice grew weaker until he finally passed out.
When George woke up again, he found himself back in his own hospital room. It was late at night, and the beeping of the monitor was the only sound in the quiet room.
He struggled to sit up, only to see Michael standing at the foot of his bed, watching him coldly.
"You almost got Emma killed," Michael said bluntly, his voice seething with suppressed anger. "If you had noticed her injuries sooner..."
"I know," George interrupted, his voice low. "The thing I regret most in my life is not being able to protect her."
The two men stared at each other in the dimly lit room, the tension palpable.
After a long silence, Michael suddenly let out a cold laugh. "Emma called your name 124 times while she was unconscious." He turned to leave. "But I won't give up. Her future can only be with me."
George watched Michael's retreating figure, his hand gently touching the bandages on his chest. The deepest wound there wasn't from Phoenix, but from the knife called "regret."
Outside, the first light of dawn broke through the clouds. In Emma's room, the heart monitor showed a sudden change. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes.
The bright light made Emma squint. The smell of disinfectant filled her nose, and she realized she was in a hospital bed. The pain from her injuries made her groan softly, but she quickly bit her lip to stifle the sound.
Emma turned her head slightly and saw Michael asleep by her bedside. His usually neat hair was disheveled, and dark circles under his eyes showed he hadn't rested well in a long time. His arm was still in a protective embrace, as if even in sleep, he was guarding her.
A wave of warmth and complex emotions washed over Emma. She gently moved her fingers and found that Michael was holding her hand tightly. Not wanting to disturb his sleep, she pretended to still be unconscious.
Just then, the door to the room opened quietly. A young woman in a lavender dress entered, carrying a bouquet of fresh lilies. She looked to be about twenty, with a delicate face and lively eyes.
Seeing Michael asleep by the bed, the woman’s eyes showed a hint of sadness. She tiptoed to the bedside, placed the flowers on the nightstand, and carefully reached out to drape a jacket over Michael.
"Celeste?" Michael woke up suddenly, his voice rough from sleep.
"Michael, you've been here all night again." The woman, Celeste, sighed, her voice gentle but reproachful. "You'll wear yourself out like this."
Emma kept her eyes closed but could sense the familiarity between the two. She heard Michael pull his hand away and the sound of a chair being moved.
"I'm fine," Michael said quietly. "Emma's condition just stabilized. I can't leave her."
Celeste was silent for a moment. "You haven't eaten or slept properly for two days. Even for Emma's sake, you need to take care of yourself." Her voice choked up. "Do you know how worried I am seeing you like this?"
Michael seemed moved by her words. Emma heard him stand up. "Let's talk outside. We shouldn't disturb Emma."
Their footsteps faded, and the door closed softly. Emma opened her eyes again, her gaze falling on the fresh lilies. The petals still had morning dew, sparkling in the sunlight.
Emma tried to recall who Celeste was. From their conversation, it was clear they had known each other for a long time and were very close. Strangely, seeing them together didn't make her feel jealous or upset, only grateful and guilty towards Michael.
"I see," Emma whispered to herself. She finally understood her feelings for Michael. They were gratitude, dependence, and trust, but not love. This realization brought her relief, but also guilt for not being able to return his feelings.
In the hallway, Michael leaned against the window, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. Celeste handed him a cup of hot coffee, her eyes full of concern.
"That George tried to visit Emma again this morning," Celeste said, her voice tinged with obvious displeasure. "I stopped him."
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