Chapter 233
The hospital corridors were eerily quiet.
Robert Sinclair was in emergency surgery. The red light above the operating theater remained glaringly bright.
Sebastian Whitmore had rushed to the apartment first, ensuring Alexander and Isabella were safely dropped off at school. Dominic Blackwood had canceled all his morning meetings without hesitation, accompanying Evelyn to the hospital without delay.
This wasn't just a minor illness.
It was lung cancer.
Families of cancer patients lived in constant dread—the fear that one day, without warning, their loved one might slip away.
Evelyn had experienced this exact agony five years ago.
She knew the suffocating weight of waiting outside an operating theater all too well.
But recently, she had allowed herself to hope. Between her demanding job and reconnecting with her children, she had almost convinced herself that her father was getting better.
Every check-up, the doctors reassured her.
"Mr. Sinclair’s condition is stable. It’s a positive sign. No need to worry."
She had believed them.
Just yesterday, the specialist had even said, "His organ functions are improving. He’s responding well."
For a fleeting moment, Evelyn had thought fate was finally being kind.
Then, without warning, the nightmare returned.
Time blurred.
She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there when the operating light finally flickered off.
Evelyn stood on numb legs, her heart pounding as she searched the doctor’s exhausted face for any sign of hope.
Dominic had ensured Robert received the best care—VIP wards, top specialists, everything money could buy. Without him, none of it would have been possible.
"I’m sorry. We did everything we could." The doctor removed his mask, his voice heavy with regret.
Dominic turned sharply, catching the exact moment Evelyn’s knees buckled.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. "No… that’s not possible. He was fine yesterday—"
Five years ago, he had survived.
Now, when she least expected it, he was gone.
The doctor offered a final apologetic nod before walking away, leaving the corridor in suffocating silence.
Dominic pulled Evelyn into his arms before she could collapse. She clung to his coat, her fingers twisting the fabric until her knuckles ached.
There was no stopping the flood of grief.
She had braced herself for this once before, only for her father to pull through.
This time, she hadn’t been prepared.
And now, he was gone.
Sebastian had arrived at the hospital after dropping off the children.
The guards stationed outside Robert’s ward were acting strangely—shifty-eyed, uneasy.
Something was wrong.
"You’re still here?" Sebastian kept his tone neutral, but the guard flinched as if struck.
"Can… can we leave now?" The man stammered, crushing his cigarette underfoot.
Sebastian had spent decades reading people.
This man was hiding something.
"Tell me what happened. Now."
The guard hesitated. "Nothing unusual. The medical team just rushed in suddenly—"
Sebastian cut him off. "If you lie now, by the time the truth comes out, it’ll be too late for me to help you."
The guard paled.
"Alright, alright! Two people came by earlier. One claimed to be the patient’s wife. We didn’t stop them—what if he wanted to see them? We’re just here to keep strangers out, but if we refused family and something happened…"
Sebastian’s jaw tightened.
They had let someone in, and now Robert was dead.
But if they had turned them away and Robert had been distressed…
Either way, they were screwed.
Sebastian headed upstairs.
The operating theater was empty, the light off.
He found two nurses cleaning Robert’s former room. "Where’s the patient?"
"Didn’t make it. They took him to the morgue."
Sebastian froze.
Dead. Just like that.
He finally located Dominic in another ward, watching over Evelyn as she lay unconscious, an IV drip attached to her arm.
"Is Ms. Sinclair alright?" Sebastian asked carefully.
Dominic didn’t look up. "Hypoglycemia. She passed out from the shock."
The air was thick with unspoken grief.
And the unsettling certainty that none of this had been an accident.