Black SUVs flooded into the driveway like a wave. Security men jumped out—tall and stern—scanning everywhere.
Then one man stepped out from the middle car.
He wore a clean, expensive suit. His face was hard with panic.
He looked like someone used to control. Used to power. Someone who did not beg.
But right now his eyes were wild.
He stormed toward the entrance.
And Jerry—still holding the phone—felt his stomach drop because the man looked familiar, like a face Jerry had seen on billboards, on TV, on newspapers.
The man entered the hospital like thunder. He grabbed the nearest nurse.
“Where is Elelliana?”
The nurse pointed toward the theatre hallway.
The man’s knees almost gave way.
Then his eyes landed on Jerry.
He stared.
Jerry froze because the man’s bodyguards also stared hard. One stepped forward, hand moving toward his waist like he was ready to pull something.
Jerry raised both hands slowly, fear rushing into his chest.
“I’m the one who called,” Jerry said, voice shaking. “I carried her here. I didn’t hurt her.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, trying to understand.
And in that tense moment, the doctor came out again and said words that made the whole hallway go still.
“We’re taking her for emergency surgery now, but we may have to choose who to save first.”
Jerry felt the world tilt.
The man in the suit—Johnson—looked like he might collapse.
