Claire barely had time to process Margaret's reaction over the phone before the woman declared she was heading to the hospital immediately.
Now, as they hurried through the hospital entrance, Claire could feel the weight of Margaret's worry in the way she walked—fast, determined, as if sheer willpower could bring her son back to safety.
Margaret's face was pale but composed, though Claire knew her well enough to see the fear underneath. The moment they stepped into the waiting area near the ICU, Margaret's sharp gaze swept across the room, searching.
"Where is he?" she demanded, her voice firm but tight with emotion. "Where's my son?" she asked again, her heart pounding heavily in her rib cage.
Emma, who had been sitting near Alex, stiffened at Margaret's voice. She had been bracing herself, fearing the worst—that Margaret would blame her for everything again. After all, Jake had taken a bullet meant for her.
