The surgery lasted ten hours.
Today marked the second day of my disappearance.
My mother, unable to reach me, finally called Allen’s phone. He didn’t even glance at the screen before pressing decline.
Unwilling to give up, she sent him a message, pleading for any news of my whereabouts. He didn’t reply. His gaze remained fixed on the operating room doors, unblinking.
His assistant arrived at the hospital, carrying a stack of contracts and agreements that needed his signature. In the midst of handing over the documents, his peripheral vision caught something on a medical report.
He hesitated.
“Mr. Jones, is Madam sick? I noticed her name on the hospital records. You two have been separated for three days—maybe you should give her a call?”
Allen signed the papers without looking up. He was still angry.
“Don’t mention her to me. She values her life too much. Just had a full-body checkup a few days ago—what could possibly be wrong with her? She called earlier just to stir up trouble. If I don’t teach her a lesson, she’ll never learn.
“She knows better than anyone that I hate being lied to, yet she still jokes about her health. Does she think cancer is something to play around with? One day, if something really happens to her, how would I even know if she’s telling the truth?”
The assistant wiped his forehead, troubled. He hesitated, then spoke carefully.
“But Miss Darby’s illness isn’t Madam’s fault. She didn’t even know about your relationship. It’s only natural she misunderstood. As husband and wife, if misunderstandings aren’t cleared up, they’ll only cause more problems later.”
He hesitated again, lowering his voice.
“Madam isn’t someone who speaks recklessly. Since her name is on the hospital records, wouldn’t it be best to check, just in case?”
Allen’s expression darkened. His gaze drifted back to the glowing light above the operating room.
