CHAPTER 166: EMMA’S LAST BREATH?

"You don’t get to talk about love!" Morris roared. "My daughter is fighting for her life because she tried to protect you!"

Jean flinched, but before she could speak, Logan stepped between them.

"Enough," Logan said, his voice like ice. "We’re not your enemies. And we’re not leaving without the truth. You owe for your daughter that much."

The silence was deafening.

Morris Adams slowly turned away from the fireplace, eyeing Jean and Logan with a deep scowl... until Henry finally spoke.

"Mr. Adams... I dropped Emma off here the night we landed."

The words hit the air like a slap.

Morris blinked, confused. "What?"

Henry stepped forward, voice low but clear. "She told us she was jet lagged. I offered her a ride since my place was on the way. She came here. I saw her walk inside."

"No..." Morris shook his head slowly. "That can’t be. Emma didn’t... I didn’t see her that night. No one told me she was here. The butler never mentioned it."

Jean’s eyes widened as she pieced it together. "She was here... she must’ve overheard something."

Morris looked pale. "You’re saying she was here before the accident?"

Henry nodded gravely. "And the place where her car crashed? It wasn’t far from your estate."

Morris suddenly stumbled back a step, grabbing onto the edge of a chair for balance. His lips parted, but no words came out... only the faint sound of his own breath quickening.

And then, his phone rang.

He snatched it off the table with trembling hands.

"This is Morris."

Silence... then his face fell.

Jean and Logan watched as his expression crumbled from confusion to horror.

"What do you mean... code blue?!"

Jean’s chest tightened. Henry stepped closer. "Is it Emma?"

Morris’s hands trembled, gripping the phone tighter. "I’m on my way."

The call ended. "She... her heart stopped," he said, almost in a daze. "They’ve taken her to emergency surgery."

Jean felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

"I have to go," Morris muttered, already moving toward the door, stumbling over his steps.

"I’m coming with you," Jean said firmly.

Morris didn’t protest this time. There was no strength left to fight. Logan exchanged a glance with Henry before following.

The estate’s once quiet halls now echoed with hurried footsteps, each beat heavy with fear, guilt, and unanswered questions.

They had all come seeking truths... but now, they were racing against time for Emma’s life.

____________________________

The lights passed overhead in blurred streaks as the car raced through the city. Jean sat frozen in the passenger seat, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Logan was driving, barely uttering a word, but she could feel the tension radiating off him like heat.

Henry sat in the back, unusually quiet.

But Jean... she was drowning in her thoughts.

Emma.

She had seen her that morning. Pale, unconscious, but breathing.

"We’ll figure it out, Em... just wake up," Jean had whispered at her bedside.

But now?

"Her heart stopped."

Jean’s throat burned. Her stomach twisted into knots. She stared out the window, eyes wide and dry, because she couldn’t even afford the luxury to cry yet. Not until she knew Emma was still alive.

"How can someone just stop breathing? How can someone go from lying still to fighting for their life again?"

"It’s not fair. I was just there. She was there..."

She swallowed the rising wave of nausea.

Logan’s voice broke through her spiral. "We’re here."

The hospital’s emergency entrance glowed under white floodlights. The car had barely stopped when Morris flung open the door and stormed out. Jean followed, her legs shaky as she ran behind him through the sliding glass doors.

The waiting area was chaotic... nurses moving fast, phones ringing, an air of crisis thick and choking.

"Morris Adams!" he shouted at the reception. "Where’s my daughter?! You called and said she... her heart..."

"Sir, calm down," a nurse tried, but he pushed past her, heading for the emergency wing.

A doctor approached... young, flustered, and clearly thrown by Morris’s rage. "Mr. Adams, we’ve stabilized her... Emma is alive, but she’s in a coma. She’s being moved back to the ICU."

Jean’s knees almost gave out. She gripped the back of a nearby chair.

"She... she’s still breathing?" she whispered.

The doctor nodded. "Yes. Just barely."

"What happened?" Logan asked, stepping forward.

The doctor hesitated. "You may want to sit down for this."

"No," Morris snapped. "Say it. Right now."

The doctor exchanged a glance with a nurse before continuing.

"An alarm was triggered in her room. We... caught someone trying to tamper with her oxygen mask."

Jean’s blood ran cold.

"We only saw a dark figure escaping from the floor through a blind spot in our CCTV before security could apprehend him. But the damage was minimal... Emma’s vitals crashed, but we managed to resuscitate her."

Silence.

Total, deafening silence.

Jean’s mind reeled. Her heart thundered.

Someone tried to kill Emma.

Henry cursed under his breath. Logan’s hand moved to Jean’s back instinctively... she didn’t even realize she had started shaking.

"I want full access to the security footage," Logan said coldly. "And I want two guards posted outside Emma’s room... 24/7."

Morris was trembling, his face pale, jaw clenched.

Jean finally found her voice.

"Who would do this?"

But she knew.

Somewhere in the depths of her heart, she already knew.

Tyler Dominic.

___________________________

The fluorescent light above them hummed faintly, casting a sterile glow on the worried faces gathered in the hallway. The sharp scent of disinfectant mixed with tension in the air.

Jean stood beside Logan, her mind still trying to process the horror. Henry leaned against the wall, arms folded tightly, eyes dark.

Morris hadn’t moved from beside the ICU door, pacing restlessly like a caged lion.

Then came the unmistakable sound of polished shoes against tile.

Uniformed officers entered the hallway, led by a plainclothes detective in a charcoal blazer, his expression grave but professional.

"Mr. Morris Adams?" he addressed.

Morris turned, shoulders squared. "Yes?"

"I’m Detective Carver. We were informed by the hospital that there was an attempted homicide on the premises." He gave a brief nod toward the ICU door. "We’d like to ask you and those closest to the victim to come down to the station for questioning."