She had made up her mind, no matter whether Christopher Hart woke up or remained in a coma forever, whether he was ntally incapacitated or normal, she would stay here with the three children.
She would never marry again in this lifeti.
For the rest of her life, she would focus on her career and take care of the children with all her might.
In her spare ti, she would visit him, as if visiting an old friend of many years.
Her life must be under her own control; she couldn’t let others disrupt the main lody.
In this world, no one is indispensable to anyone else.
She had loved, hated, laughed, cried, suffered, and also experienced happiness; with that, this phase of her life was complete.
Early in the morning, after dropping Noah and Hope off at kindergarten, Alia Garcia took Ethan to see a psychologist.
After several sessions, the little guy’s mood had stabilized a lot and his smile gradually returned.
When they left the psychologist’s office, Ethan asked, "Mom, has Dad woken up?"
She looked at her son, smiled, and asked, "Do you miss Daddy?"
"Uh... Daddy got hurt while saving , I should thank him."
She thought for a mont and nodded, "Okay, then let’s go to the hospital to see Daddy."
Getting into the car, she instructed Fuller, "Let’s go to the hospital."
Fuller hadn’t seen his boss for several days and stepped on the gas with vigor when he heard they were going to the hospital.
Christopher Hart was still lying in the intensive care unit.
A week had passed, and he still hadn’t passed the critical stage.
Emma Carter had been visiting him every day, talking to him, but he did not respond, falling into a deep coma again.
The nurse politely asked Alia when she showed up, "Would you like to go in and accompany Mr. Hart? You haven’t been here these past few days, and he hasn’t shown any signs of awakening. The director said Mr. Hart might only respond to you and the children—even Old Lady Hart..."
The latter part was inappropriate, and the young nurse bit her lip, hastily stopping herself.
Alia felt worried, "I had a cold a few days ago and just recovered. Can I go in?"
"Wear a mask, and you should be fine."
"Okay."
It was Ethan’s first ti entering; his big eyes were filled with curiosity and caution as he clung tightly to his mother’s hand until they reached the bedside. His gaze fixed on the motionless man wearing a breathing mask, and his little face suddenly stiffened.
He seed frightened, or as if he didn’t recognize the person.
Alia also steadily stared at the man in a coma, unable to completely see her expression under the mask, but her brows were tightly furrowed, eyes brimming with heartache.
He hadn’t improved at all in the days since she had seen him last.
The scratches on his face were almost healed, the dark brown blood scabs amidst his handso features adding a sense of exhaustion and sorrow.
His mouth and nose were covered with a ventilator, barely revealing his dry, pale lips devoid of any color.
A week had passed, and he still hadn’t fully regained consciousness.
Was he dood to remain lifeless, barely clinging to life, sleeping forever...
Thinking of his domineering and arrogant deanor of the past, she compared it to the face in front of her now, with closed eyes and a gray, defeated expression—she couldn’t believe it was the sa person.
After a while, she took a deep breath to calm herself, tightened her grip on her son’s shoulder, and whispered softly, "Baby, this is Daddy. He’s badly hurt and still unconscious, but the doctor said he might hear us talking."
Seeing her son a bit nervous and scared, she bent down to encourage him, "Talk to Daddy, didn’t you say you wanted to thank him?"
Ethan was still a bit dazed, reminded several tis by his mother before he blinked and ca back to reality, his steps inching forward.
"Daddy..." he called out, his tone uncertain, "Daddy... thank you for rescuing from that bad aunt. Please get well soon; little sister is missing you and crying."
As she ntioned this, the woman recalled the previous night’s event, speaking softly, "Yes... Hope keeps talking about you, asking why you haven’t co to pick her up, saying she misses Daddy..."
"You haven’t been apart from your daughter for this long, have you? Don’t you miss her? Please wake up... everyone is anxiously waiting..."
Mother and son sat beside the hospital bed for fifteen minutes, Ethan talked ceaselessly, thoroughly explaining his visits to the psychologist these past few days.
"Daddy, the doctor said I am very brave, that I am recovering quickly. Daddy, I believe you are also very brave, and you will surely get better soon!"
Ethan kept calling out ’Daddy’, growing more and more confident as he spoke.
Alia quietly listened to her son’s words. Even though that man lay unconscious, the scene was still filled with warmth.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket; she took it out—it was Snow Fitch.
Just as the nurse ca in to remind them that the ti was up, it wasn’t appropriate to linger any longer, to avoid disturbing other patients.
They stood up and left.
This visit, Christopher Hart showed no reaction.
Alia felt a bit disheartened, took several steps away but still turned back, hoping for a miracle.
Yet, she was disappointed again.
After leaving the ICU and taking off her sterile suit back in the corridor, she returned the call.
"Snow, what’s up?"
"You’re at the hospital?"
"Yeah, what’s up?"
"Nothing much, just... I just saw the official report; Fiona Marshall and Lily Garcia have been sentenced."
"That quick?" Alia was slightly surprised.
The legal process had its set procedures; many cases drag on for months or even years. How had their case been resolved so quickly?
"Not too fast though, it’s been over a month, and the kidnapping was severe and socially harmful, so the police naturally sped up the process."
Alia had been overwheld these days, not following up on Lily Garcia’s situation and hadn’t checked the relevant news reports online.
"Lily Garcia was charged with illegal organ trading and kidnapping, convicted on multiple charges, sentenced to thirteen years. By the ti she gets out, she’ll be middle-aged. Fiona Marshall was involved in illegal organ trading and got five years. Also, that clinic director and Lily Garcia’s partner got several years each."
Lily Garcia sentenced to thirteen years...
That was sowhat surprising.
The best years of her life would be spent in prison.
"Also, Lily Garcia had a miscarriage, without pregnancy as a shield; she needed to start serving her sentence. Thirteen years... her life is pretty much ruined."
Alia spoke indifferently, "A self-inflicted disaster, no one else to bla."
"Indeed." After discussing the main topic, Snow suddenly rembered sothing and said in surprise, "Also, there’s a mini-article on so site that’s quite interesting. I’ll send it to you in a bit."
"Mini-article?" Alia was puzzled, "What is that? A post or an article?"
"Neither, you’ll understand when you see it."
After hanging up, Snow sent the link.
Curiosity piqued, Alia opened the link, scanning through it line by line, her brows furrowing, her expression... hard to describe.
Who wrote this?
It looked like a romance novel, but the story was strikingly similar to her life experiences with Christopher Hart. Weren’t the main characters essentially her and Christopher?
Snow Fitch sent a voice ssage, "If it were not for Christopher Hart being in a coma, I would have thought this was written by him."
Alia Garcia replied, "When did you discover this? It seems to have a lot of readers. Can you contact the author?"
"I’m not sure. I just stumbled upon it while browsing forums idly. At first, I thought it was just a coincidence, and I didn’t ntion it to you, but after following it for a few days, I began to find the coincidences a bit eerie— I almost suspect that Christopher Hart’s soul is possessing soone else, otherwise how could they know so much about the two of you?"
Alia was so terrified by her words that she got goosebumps all over her body.
On the way ho, she kept reading that "novel."
The novel was written from the male protagonist’s first-person perspective, beginning with his encounter with the female protagonist.
"It was a bright and sunny afternoon.
She fell into my sight like a sprite descending from the heavens, instantly catching my eye.
As she spoke, her eyes sparkled, her smile radiating light as if it were about to spill out.
Seeing her, I finally understood what the ancients ant by ’a beauty that could topple cities and nations’..."
A beauty that could topple cities and nations...
Alia fixated on those words, and an ancient conversation surfaced in her mind.
Back then, Elder Hart had forced Christopher to practice calligraphy. When he had mastered it, it coincidentally coincided with her birthday. He had a piece of calligraphy artfully frad as a birthday gift for her.
Northern Beauty, exceptional and unique. One glance would captivate a city, another glance captivate a nation—how could one not speak of captivating cities and nations? Such beauty is rare to find!
The characters were dynamic, bursting with strength.
Yet, the accompanying portrait bore a delicate and refined beauty, standing gracefully alone.
At the ti, she had complained when receiving it, "What is this jumble supposed to be?"
Soone, not convinced, retorted, "How is this a jumble? I labored for days writing and drawing, and chose this piece that I was most satisfied with to have it expertly frad before presenting it to you—don’t you like it?"
How could she say she didn’t like it? She pursed her lips and reluctantly said, "Since you put so much heart into it, I’ll accept it then."
His face, spirited and handso, suddenly flushed with shyness, and he asked softly, "Do you know what the poem ans?"
She casually replied, "It praises my beauty."
"..." He stared at her, frustrated for a few seconds, then bluntly said, "You really aren’t modest!"
Years later, as Alia reminisced, she couldn’t help but smile naturally.
Her mother had once said that from the mont she was born in the delivery room, the doctors and nurses praised her good looks; as she grew older, people would invariably stare, comnting on how beautiful the little girl was, her features so exquisite.
Having been praised so much from a young age, how could she be humble?
However, her mother always taught her that beauty wasn’t a true skill. Looks were given by parents, not one’s own prowess; internal beauty was what mattered most.
Thus, although she possessed a face that could "wreak havoc on a nation," she never thought about relying on her looks alone.
As she later entered society, she feared being labeled as a pretty but useless vase, accused of climbing the social ladder through her beauty, so she worked even harder and more diligently than others.
In the end, her efforts weren’t in vain, and today, everything she owned was indeed gained through her strength.
Justly so, without any dispute.
Her thoughts drifted for a while before she snapped back to reality and continued reading.
The more she read, the more horrified she beca.
Even the part in the novel where the female protagonist experiences her first period while hiking and the male protagonist takes off his jacket to wrap around her waist, rushing her down the hill directly to the supermarket to buy sanitary pads, was identical to reality!
This was definitely not a coincidence or accident.
She abruptly put down her phone, her mind in a complete ss.
What exactly was going on?
Christopher Hart had been in a coma for a week now, yet such an "article" had appeared online. Who was posting it, and with what intention? How did he know all these details so thoroughly?
For several days, she and Snow Fitch had been following this "serialized novel."
So elents might have been exaggerated to cater to the readers or might even be cheesy, but most of the plots were exact replicas of her experiences with Christopher Hart.
In the comnts section, many readers had started clamoring for updates, crying out that the male protagonist was too charming, too considerate, begging heaven for a boyfriend just like him.
Even Snow Fitch had said, "If I didn’t know about Christopher Hart’s scumbaggery later, I would want a man like that too, for a pure romance!"
Alia Garcia glanced at her, "Stop ssing around! Did you find any clues when you helped check?"
"I left a ssage, but they didn’t reply."
"It’s really strange..." This feeling of having one’s privacy invaded was so eerie.
Snow Fitch looked at her, took a sip of her milk tea, and asked, "Did you go to the hospital today?"
"Not yet... I plan to pick up the kids later and take them with ."
"Oh..." Snow Fitch nodded her head and then frowned, "It’s been almost half a month, and still, no signs of him waking up? Could he really just stay like this..."
Alia Garcia’s face fell, the worry in her brow not dissolving, "I don’t know, his condition has stabilized, and the doctor said he could be moved out of the ICU in a few days, but no one dares say when he will wake up..."
Before she could finish her sentence, her phone rang; it was Benny Palr.
"Hello, Young Master Palr, I’m going to pick up the kids later and then head over, you don’t need to—"
Benny Palr frequently called her, urging her to visit the hospital like a foreman.
But this ti, before she could finish speaking, a frantic voice interrupted from the other side: "Christopher has woken up! Co quickly!"
"What?" Alia Garcia suddenly stood up, her tone also sharply rising, "He woke up? Is he vaguely awake, or is—"
"Fully awake! He’s opened his eyes! The doctor is conducting a thorough check-up, and all of the Hart family is here, hurry up!"
Before Benny Palr could finish, Alia Garcia had turned and started to jog, with Snow Fitch quickly following behind.
They rushed to the hospital as fast as they could, and upon exiting the elevator, they sprinted down the hallway. By the ti they reached the room, the corridor was already filled with Hart family relatives and elders.
Wendy Hart was sitting in a wheelchair and, seeing Alia running hurriedly, scowled at her, "My brother woke up; why are you panicking? What, having second thoughts?"
Alia Garcia unapologetically retorted, "Don’t worry, I’m not interested in being your sister-in-law!"
"..." Wendy Hart was left speechless, silently grinding her teeth.
Benny Palr erged from the crowd, saying to her, "It’s true, he’s woken up, but there seems to be an issue."
Alia Garcia was panting and asked, "What issue? Is it... cerebral palsy, or dentia?"
"That’s not clear yet, but he can’t see..."
Snow Fitch was shocked, "Are you saying he’s gone blind?!"
Alia Garcia was likewise stunned.
The doctor had ntioned various possible complications, but never blindness!
Benny Palr could not explain any further, when suddenly there was commotion at the entrance to the ward.
Turning their heads, they saw the doctor coming out; they hurried forward, all eager to personally hear what the doctor had to say.
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