Bella remained unconscious, hours stretching into an agonizing blur. Finally, the doctor emerged from the ICU, his face grave. "She has slipped into a coma," he announced. "We don’t know when she’ll wake."
"What are you talking about?" Theodore roared, his eyes ablaze. "What do you mean, you don’t know? You’re a doctor. Do something and wake her up."
Sympathy flickered in his eyes. "We’re doing everything we can, Mr. Reid. Her vitals are stable, which is a good sign. But given her brain trauma, her body needs time to heal. We simply can’t predict how long it will take."
"Damn it." Theodore bellowed, slamming his fist against the wall.
Willow placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "Theo, you need to stay strong. She’ll wake up—she is a fighter. Just give her time." Turning to the doctor, she added apologetically, "Please forgive him. He’s just overwhelmed."
The doctor offered a faint, understanding nod. "We’ll move her out of the ICU by the end of the day. You’ll be able to see her then."
"Thank you," Willow said with a gentle smile.
The doctor smiled back at her and left.
"Theo, listen to me." Willow tugged at his arm to get his attention.
"Where is Bella?" A sharp voice interrupted them.
Startled, they both turned their heads and spotted Selena rushing toward them, her face pale and strained. Alan followed closely behind, his wheelchair moving with a sense of urgency.
"Where is Bella?" Selena demanded, her voice trembling with fear. "How is she?" Both she and Alan looked at Theodore, their eyes pleading for reassurance.
Theodore hesitated, his throat tightening. "She underwent surgery last night," he said, his voice low and rough. "She is stable now, but..." His gaze flickered to the ICU doors and the words stuck in his mouth. "They’ll move her to a room by the end of the day."
"Surgery? What kind of surgery?" Selena gasped, clutching her chest as tears welled in her eyes. Alan’s grip on the wheelchair’s armrests tightened.
Theodore took a deep breath, steadying himself before explaining everything—the delayed treatment and the operation to remove the blood clots.
"She is out of danger," he finished. "But... she is in a coma."
"Coma?" Selena and Alan echoed in unison, their faces stricken with disbelief and fear.
"The doctors are doing everything they can," Theodore reassured them, his own anxiety barely concealed. "She’ll wake up. I know she will."
"She is in this situation because of you." A sudden voice, sharp and furious, pierced the tense air.
They all turned to see Philip storming toward them, his face flushed with rage, eyes locked onto Theodore like daggers.
"You, Theodore Reid," Philip spat. "You shouldn’t even be here! Get out!"
"Philip, stop!" Alan snapped. "This isn’t the time or place for this." He didn’t want conflict when Bella was still in a coma. But Philip was too consumed by his fury to heed the warning.
"He is the reason Bella has suffered so much," he snarled, pointing an accusing finger at Theodore. "What kind of man lets his wife face danger alone? I don’t know what kind of family issues he has. But because of that, he divorced Bella and sent her away from him."
Theodore’s jaw clenched, but he stayed silent. He was not in the mood to fight. His mind was too messy with Bella’s thoughts. However, the revelation shocked the rest.
"Divorced?" Selena was befuddled, her eyes darting to Theodore, searching for answers. "Bella was divorced? Why didn’t I know about it? When did that happen?"
She had thought Bella had been with her to recuperate, but she had never thought of the possibility of her daughter getting a divorce.
Philip scoffed. "Yes, they were divorced. Their marriage was a sham—a contract for a year, nothing more."
Selena’s hand flew to her mouth, her face pale with shock. She had never known her daughter had a contract marriage with Theodore. But they looked so much in love with each other. How could that be a lie?
"And it wasn’t just the divorce," Philip continued. "During that so-called marriage, she suffered immensely. She even miscarried!"
Theodore’s expression remained stoic, but his eyes betrayed a storm of pain and regret.
"What nonsense are you spouting?" Willow’s sharp voice cut through the tension. She stepped forward, her sharp glare fixating on Philip. "You are accusing Theodore without any idea of how much he loves Bella or what he’s endured for her. It was Theodore who stood by her side when she needed help. Where were you at the time?"
Philip’s glare shifted to Willow, his expression darkening further. "And who are you to speak for him?" he sneered. "What is your connection to him?"
"That’s none of your business," Willow shot back coldly, her disdain for Philip intensifying. She indeed liked him, but he had immediately become her enemy the moment he had accused Theodore without knowing the whole truth.
"Do you even know the lengths he went to for Bella’s safety?" she continued. "They never divorced. They faked it and stayed apart, so he could protect her from Claudia’s schemes. Theo never left her unguarded, never stopped loving her."
Philip snorted derisively, his mouth twisting in sarcasm. His smug look only added to Willow’s fury.
"The driver who died in the accident...that was Theodore’s secretary. Do you have any idea of it?" Willow tilted her head, squinting at him.
Philip looked back at her with astonishment. He didn’t know about it.
"No, you don’t know anything," she spat. "All you know is to accuse him." She sized him up disdainfully. "You call yourself her brother. Where were you when Bella needed someone to lean on? Why didn’t you come sooner?"
Philip’s face drained of color, the weight of her words hitting him like a blow. His confidence faltered, replaced by a flicker of shame and regret.
"Before you point fingers at others, you should reflect on your own failures."
"Willow, that’s enough," Theodore interjected quietly. "I don’t want to argue anymore. I just want Bella to wake up."
"Alright," she said, casting one last withering look at Philip. "Let’s not waste our energy on people who only know how to blame others." With that, she turned and walked away alongside Theodore.
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