Chapter 200

Emily Smith lay on the hospital bed, her once full cheeks now hollowed out. Her pale skin was almost translucent. Dry strands of hair spread across the pillow like withered grass devoid of life.

William Johnson stood by the bed, his Adam's apple bobbing. The look she had given him earlier was colder than how one would regard a stranger—like a blunt knife slowly carving into his heart.

"Do you hate me that much?" His voice was hoarse, barely recognizable.

The figure on the bed remained motionless, her breathing so faint it was almost imperceptible. William stared at her frail back, a sudden tightness gripping his chest.

"What I said that day was just out of anger." His tone softened. "I won't touch your sister."

The room was so quiet the sound of the IV drip was audible. William waited for what felt like an eternity before finally sighing.

"I contacted a specialist from abroad." His voice carried a hint of pleading. "He has extensive experience with coma patients."

Still, no response.

William moved closer, bending down to look at her. Under the light, her eyelashes cast delicate shadows on her face, making her look like a fragile porcelain doll. He reached out to touch her but stopped midair.

"Get some rest." He withdrew his hand and turned to leave.

Only when the sound of his footsteps completely faded did Emily slowly open her eyes.

......

When night enveloped the city, William dialed George Taylor's number.

"Gather the guys." His voice was rough. "I need a drink tonight."

George was stunned. In over twenty years of friendship, this was the first time William had ever asked to drink. Within half an hour, the private lounge was packed.

George had assumed it was just work stress. But watching William down glass after glass like water, he realized it was something far more serious.

"Slow down, Mr. Johnson," a woman cooed.

"Get lost." William's gaze was icy.

The atmosphere in the room froze instantly. Only George and James dared to stay by his side as he continued drowning himself in liquor.

"Call... Baby Em..." William slurred, grabbing George's arm. "Tell her to come get me..."

George was baffled. "Who's Baby Em?"

The only response was William collapsing onto the table, unconscious. George stared at his drunken friend and suddenly remembered the girl named Emily Smith.

Baby Em.

He shook his head with a wry smile.

The nickname was sickeningly sweet.