?Chapter 905:


    Ste stumbled after them, heart pounding in her throat, vision blurred with tears. She almost fell twice, her legs refusing to work, until someone steadied her—maybe a nurse, maybe a stranger. She didn’t even look.


    Then the OR doors mmed shut. She stood there, blinking at the glowing red “In Surgery” sign above them.


    It pulsed like a warning light, bleeding red into her vision, and for a second, she felt like she might throw up.


    Her knees gave out, and she dropped onto the cold bench in the hallway. Her hands were crusted with dried blood now, the metallic scent clinging to her like smoke.


    She was freezing. Not just from the AC, but from the inside out. Her whole body shook, even though her mind felt numb.


    Lance appeared beside her, voice gentle. “Ste, you should go clean up.”


    She didn’t even nce at him. Her eyes were locked on the OR doors, unmoving.


    With a sigh, Lance shrugged off his jacket andid it over her shoulders.


    Time dragged, every second stretching longer than thest.


    The hallway was dead quiet, the silence broken only by the soft sound of her crying.


    Ste had never felt this scared—not even when her adoptive parents died. Back then, she was young. The grief crept in slowly, seeping into her over time.


    But this? This was a de, sharp and immediate, dangling over her head by a thread.


    She tried not to think the worst, but her mind wouldn’t stop.


    William’s face—his eyes just before he was shot—kept shing behind her eyelids. No. William couldn’t go down like this. He was too damn strong.


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    But the image of him—turning without hesitation, shielding her with his own body—shed in her mind like a p. She couldn’t unsee it. The way his eyes locked onto hers right…


    …after the shot rang out—calm, steady. Like he had already made peace with it. Her chest tightened, a sharp, breathless ache sinking deep into her ribs. She could barely breathe.


    Why had he done it? Why her? He hadn’t even flinched—just stepped between her and a bullet like it was nothing. Like his life didn’t matter.


    But it did. God, it did.


    A sick feeling crawled up her throat, thick with guilt. Was this her fault? If she hadn’t insisted on pushing the investigation… if she had just kept him out of it… maybe he wouldn’t be fighting for his life right now.


    She should have handled this alone.


    She knew the risks, and she’d dragged him into her mess anyway.


    Overwhelming guilt and helplessness threatened to crush Ste.


    A soft voice broke the heavy silence beside Ste. “Ms. Russell, have some water.”


    It was Karson’s longtime butler, who had somehow appeared without her noticing. He offered her a cup of warm water, his eyes gentle.


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