Chapter 627

Jamison jerked upright in bed, his face taut and grave. Beside him, Ivy stirred, half-awake from the sound coming from her husband’s phone. She blinked her eyes open. “What’s going on?”

“Did they call an ambulance? He needs to get to the hospital, now.” Jamison didn’t pause to answer her questions. He’d already thrown back the covers and strode into the closet to get dressed.

By the time he came back out, the call had already ended.

Ivy was fully awake now, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “What happened? Was that your sister?”

He nodded grimly. “Yeah. Micah tried to kill himself–slit his wrists. They didn’t find him right away. He lost a lot of blood and passed out. At this point—” He didn’t finish; his phone rang again.

Jamison glanced at the screen. His brother was calling.

Ivy didn’t need details. His tone told her enough. “Let me come with you,” she urged, worry etched in her voice.

He shook his head. “No, you stay and rest. I’ll call if there’s any news.”

Without another word, he answered his brother’s call, already halfway out the bedroom door, grabbing his coat on the way. A moment later, the front door slammed shut.

Ivy sat there, dazed.

She couldn’t wrap her head around it. Micah, who had always clung to life so stubbornly, had tried to end it all—to watch his own blood pouring out, feeling his life slipping away, the pain and the despair…

Whatever mistakes he’d made in the past, they seemed to fade into nothing now.

Even as an outsider, Ivy found herself hoping desperately that he would pull through.

When Jamison arrived at the hospital, Thad and Davina were already there. Carla was still in her nightclothes, her hands and arms stained dark with blood, sobbing uncontrollably outside the ER. Farley Shepherd, her husband, stood beside her, murmuring useless reassurances.

When Farley saw Jamison and the others arrive, he turned to meet them. Unlike Carla, his clothes were spotless—no trace of blood.

Jamison shot him a puzzled look. If Micah had collapsed at home, surely his father would have been the one to help during the chaos of the ambulance and hospital transfer. Why was Farley so clean, while Carla was covered in blood?

Farley caught the look and seemed to understand. He glanced down at his own shirt, then explained, “I… I was working late at the office. Things have been crazy lately. Your sister called about Micah, and I got here only a few minutes ago…”

So that explained it—at least on the surface.

But Jamison could tell, from the flicker in Farley’s eyes, that he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

Still, there was no time to press him. A life was hanging in the balance.

Davina moved to comfort Carla, but there was no reaching her. Her world had collapsed; nothing anyone could say would get through.

The waiting area outside the ER was eerily quiet in the dead of night, the silence broken only by Carla’s wrenching sobs echoing down the corridor.

Back home, Ivy couldn’t sleep either. She tossed and turned until finally, at two in the morning, she couldn’t stand it anymore and called her husband.

Jamison had just finished speaking with the lead doctor. He answered quietly, “You’re still awake?”

“How could I possibly sleep?” Ivy sighed, pausing, then forced herself to ask, “How’s Micah?”

She’d been afraid to ask, as if not knowing would somehow keep hope alive.

But there was no escaping it.

Jamison’s voice was heavy. “They’re still working on him. It’s not looking good, but the doctors haven’t given up yet.”

He was grateful for his position—he’d managed to assemble the best emergency team in record time, and they’d worked relentlessly for an hour, refusing to quit. But the lead doctor had just warned him: even if Micah survived, there was a real risk of severe brain damage, maybe even a permanent coma.

Jamison hadn’t told Carla or Farley yet.

Hearing this, Ivy’s heart sank.

“You need to sleep,” Jamison said gently. “You’re still recovering. Staying up all night will only make it worse. Just rest, okay? I’ll call you if there’s any news.”

“Alright. I’ll try. Let me know the moment you hear anything.”

“I will.”

After they hung up, Jamison turned around and was startled to see Carla standing silently behind him, looking ghostly in the harsh hospital light.

He set his phone down and tried to coax her. “You need to change your clothes. You’re covered in blood—it’s not safe for you.”

He was worried for a reason. Micah was HIV positive. His blood was dangerous; any cut or scratch on Carla could put her at risk.

But Carla didn’t seem to hear him at all, standing there in shock, unmoving, lost in her own world.