Shadows Of A Forgotten Spring

Chapter 137

Emma was whisked into the wing of emergencies at Blackthorn ospital with an urgency that set the entire staff on overdrive. Chaos erupted: orders being barked out by nurses, equipment clattering while being wheeled into place, and monitors blaring as Emma was transferred onto the operating table. Her fragile body battered from the explosion, her shallow breaths were faint and barely hanging in there.

The head surgeon gave a quick assessment of her status, his face grim. "We need to operate immediately. Prepare for surgery now!" he commanded as his voice sliced through the noise.

Emma was badly injured: she had a deep head wound, and scans revealed a ruptured liver from the impact. Every second counted. More than fifty medical professionals came together to save her.

The surgery began. The operation was high staked and everyone understood the gravity of their task: Emma Black wasn't just any patient; she was the woman Alexander Black, their CEO, had risked his life to save as well as his ex-wife. Meanwhile in a nearby recovery room Alexander stirred awake. For a moment he was disoriented. His mind was clouded by exhaustion and the effect of the smoke inhalation.

Then it hit him-Emma.

His eyes flew open, memories coming back in a flood of detail. Panic swelled inside him, and he sat up abruptly, yanking the IV from his arm without so much as a hesitation. The sharp sting was nothing next to the ache in his heart. "Sir, you need to rest!" Kevin and some doctors said, stepping forward to stop him.

But Alexander's eyes were wild, desperate. "I need to see her," he said hoarsely, his voice cracking. "I need to know she's alive.

Trying to reason with him, Kevin said, "The doctors are doing everything they can. You need to rest, sir."

shrugged Kevin off, and in his voice was icy determination.

in deaf ears. Nothing mattered anymore: no protocol, no rule, none but her! Bursting into the emergency operation room, Alexander froze as his gaze locked onto the scene in front of him. Emma was lying unconscious on the table, her

knuckles as his heart screamed in anguish he could barely hold inside.

She wasn't just his ex-wife; she was everything. His anchor, his light,

whirled back to her last words before she'd passed out. "Alexander, Emily and Ethan are your children." The words had

mind was a maelstrom. Four years. Four long

so blind? A month before their divorce, they shared a night together-the only time they ever had in their five-year marriage. And before that? Just once before the wedding. He had convinced himself that the first night didn't matter,

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Chapter 137

all went to hell, had

whole time, having to carry the weight of that secret and keeping him in the dark. And because

Ethan, first steps from Emily, the innumerable moments that went into shaping the

connection they had felt made perfect sense now. Ethan wasn't just any child; he

jaw clenched in the maelstrom of emotions that wrestled within him-anger, betrayal, and regret. Emma had stolen those irreplaceable years from him, years he would never get back. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, his breathing coming in heavy gasps as he fought to hold back the tears that

the pain, guilt clawed at him. Why hadn't he noticed the resemblance before? He had been consumed by his bitterness, blinded by judgment and resentment toward Emma, to see the