Chapter 4

No matter how I explained or argued, it was useless.

The investigation process still hadn’t been completed.

I couldn’t get out.

I could only anxiously worry about Noah, who was still in the hospital.

Had his fever gone down?

Did he take his medicine on time?

Would he cry at night because he couldn’t find his mom? How many more days could the medical bills hold out?

Fear and anxiety were wrapped tightly around my heart, tightening more and more until I could almost suffocate.

But even worse situations kept coming one after another.

Originally, while I was at the detention center, I could still write out my appeal materials by hand.

But maybe because I’d been out in the rain all night, I started running a high fever.

My whole body burned so badly that I was barely conscious, and I couldn’t even hold a pen steadily.

No.

I really couldn’t be falsely accused into prison.

What about Noah?

He had just finished surgery. He was still so little.

Four years old. He had only just been pulled back from the gates of hell. He didn’t have a mother. He wouldn’t survive.

But my body obviously gave out before my will did. Just as I was about to collapse in the detention center,

a police officer’s voice came from outside.

“Ethan Carter, you can leave for now.”

“Someone bailed you out.”

It was Dr. Grant.

She walked in quickly and supported me as I left the police station, only to run into Claire Morgan.

Her mocking gaze swept over Dr. Grant’s arm around me, and her tone was nasty.

“Ethan Carter, your son is already in the emergency room.”

“How do you still have the nerve to be all over another woman like that?”

My heart lurched.

I looked up at Dr. Grant anxiously, trying to confirm it.

Emily Grant pressed her lips together, shot Claire Morgan a dark look, then soothed her, saying:

“It’s a high fever triggered by an infection. His condition has been fluctuating, and there are signs it’s getting worse... He wasn’t in great shape when they brought him in.”

“But the chief is already in surgery personally. He’ll be okay.”

The news made my legs go weak. I nearly fainted.

I grabbed Emily Grant’s sleeve and begged her:

“Take me to the hospital. Emily, I’m begging you.”

“Noah is still so little. He really can’t have anything happen to him...”

I stood by the operating room door, my face getting paler and paler as I stared at the bright red surgical light.

It felt like my whole heart was hanging by a thread.

So fragile I could barely stand.

“Ethan, sit down first. You still have a fever...”

I acted like I didn’t hear her, just shook my head, my eyes locked on the operating room.

Emily tried to talk me down several times and couldn’t.

In the end, she had to leave first to get me something to eat and help me regain my strength.

I didn’t know when Claire Morgan had followed after us. Looking terrible, she asked Emily about the situation:

“Why is he raising the child all on his own? Did he ever tell you why?”

“Did he divorce that foreign guy who ran off with him? That man didn’t even want custody, just dumped the kid on him like that?”

Emily never said a word.

That only made Claire Morgan more anxious, until she finally asked the most important question:

“What illness does this kid have? Is Ethan Carter really... so desperate he’ll do anything to get money?”

Emily knew Noah’s background.

But there was really no time to explain everything to Claire Morgan.

She forced down the urge to splash the porridge in her hand right in Claire Morgan’s face and was just about to go around her and head back when—

A nurse at the operating room door suddenly cried out in panic:

“Mr. Carter!”

“Mr. Carter, wake up!”

Emily Grant and Claire Morgan both changed color at the same time and ran.

There I was, already fainted, still clutching the critical condition notice I hadn’t managed to sign.

The nurse was holding me and turned to Emily for help:

“Dr. Grant, the chief says the blood bank is critically low on type O. Can you urgently arrange a transfer from other hospitals?”

“That child is hemorrhaging badly!”

A life is worth more than anything.

Even if Claire Morgan hated me.

Faced with this kind of situation, faced with the child who had half my blood in his veins, even she couldn’t help softening.

While rolling up her sleeves, she walked up to the nurse and said:

“I’m type O. Take my blood.”

The nurse’s face lit up, and she hurried to lead Claire Morgan away for the blood draw.

Emily was shocked and rushed up to stop her.

“No!”

“She’s a direct relative. She can’t donate blood!”