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Isabelle originally heard Warren’s shout and worriedly ran over to take a look, but she was suddenly pushed in by Amy. The door was tightly closed, and she leaned against it, carefully observing him.
He scratched his arm with a piece of porcelain, presumably because his head was hurting too much.
“Warren, you can’t do this! Stop, I can alleviate your pain, okay?” Isabelle immediately ran over.
His eyes were bloodshot, and he couldn’t recognize her anymore. Reflexively, he stabbed the porcelain shard into her arm.
Her skin was fair and immediately blood beads flowed out. Isabelle gritted her teeth in pain and gently forced a bitter smile, “Luckily, you didn’t stab my stomach.”
“I wanted to go out!” Warren mumbled as she pulled away.
Presumably, he also realized who was outside.
“You can’t go, you can’t let them catch you and ruin your life. Your father… wants to send you to a mental hospital.” Isabelle anxiously hugged him, her eyes filled with compassion.
His temples were bulging with veins, his eyes filled with extreme pain, revealing fear.
It was probably a shadow left from childhood. He shook his head and helplessly turned around to hug her. “I don’t want to go. Please save me.”
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“Amy, you must have a solution. I needed to be cured quickly so that I could deal with them!”
Warren suppressed the exploding anger in his mind and managed to squeeze out words intermittently.
The sound of “Amy” made Isabelle freeze in silence, tears streaming down her face.
But she didn’t have time to be sad that she was treated as a substitute, nor did she have time to be jealous of how much he trusted Amy.
Isabelle would never watch him fall into despair, being undermined by the Levine family. She was determined to cure Warren. She knew she could do it.
“Give it to me, L. Take your hand out,” Isabelle called out with teary eyes, tenderly.
He seemed to be instantly calmed by her healing voice, gradually quieting down, sitting on the ground, and slowly extending his strong
arms.
Isabelle touched his pulse. She was extremely agitated. The blood gushing out of his skull rushed to his limbs, causing excruciating pain in his compressed nerves, leading to a constant desire to vent through self–harm.
This symptom is very similar to the one that she had encountered several years ago when she saved a stranger named Warren in the middle of the night.
That night was very dark, she couldn’t see his face clearly, and she was also hurt on her arm by him, suffering a lot.
The doctor’s compassion made her stay in the end, treating him all night and alleviating his condition.
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Isabelle recalled the method she used to treat Warren that year, perhaps it could be applied to Warren again. She analyzed his pulse carefully and then took the equipment that Amy had left on the table to start treating Warren, observing his reaction.
Impatient Warren jerked suddenly. Isabelle gently reassured him, “Don’t be afraid, L, I am treating you. Just imagine yourself lying on a meadow, very comfortable and safe. Shall I sing you a lullaby?”
She hummed a nursery rhyme softly and gently.
The singing suddenly, like a familiar spring, penetrated the desolate depths of Warren’s heart.
It was so familiar, so healing, that it put his mind at ease.
Warren tightly furrowed his brow in pain, unable to control his emotions, and then slowly relaxed it. He slowly held her cold hand and closed his eyes.
Amy, it was indeed you that night. This song gave him certainty…
He actually fell asleep on her lap.
His hand still touched her wrist, crossed over her belly, in a way that looked like a father’s big hand touching the baby inside the belly.
The baby moved happily.
Isabelle’s eyes welled up with tears as she treated him. She whispered softly, “Darling, Daddy came to see you, but he’s sick. Mommy is taking care of him. You have to be good, okay? Wait until he gets better, and in a few months, you will be born, and then he can hold you. I hope he will accept you and love you.”
What lies between them now is Tara’s life.
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Isabelle pursed her lips, feeling bitter.
Warren, who was sleeping, seemed to hear her murmurs. The large hand released her wrist and unexpectedly moved towards her swollen belly.
Under the soft belly, there was a little baby moving.
Isabelle’s gaze flickered, her eyes filled with gentle waves. Even though she knew he was not conscious, this was still a rare moment of interaction between him and the child. She murmured softly, “L, do you feel it? It has grown quite a bit. Will you still love this child?”
Love?
Warren furrowed his brow. The pain spread, and his trembling body drew closer to warmth.
He clung to Isabelle’s belly tenderly, as if it were a warm harbor. “Tara…”
Isabelle froze. She was in a state of hysteria, thinking she was Tara.
“The cost of love was too high.”
She felt as if she had fallen into an ice cellar.
“I hope you could get better and smile at me again.”
Isabelle’s silver needle trembled at her fingertips. She lowered her head and tearfully gazed at his defeated and sorrowful handsome face.
“I miss the cupcakes you used to make. When I was a child, I would eat them in one bite…”
Warren turned his head and fell asleep peacefully.
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Isabelle tightly covered the corners of her pale little mouth with her hand.
She said softly, “I’m sorry, Warren.”
“I didn’t harm my mother! But I had responsibility.”
“I promised my mother that I would stay by your side, give birth to our child, and keep you warm. It was her dying wish. I will fulfill it…”
She wiped away her tears, gathered her spirits, and immediately began
treatment.
As the treatment progressed, Warren’s aggressive state gradually diminished.
There were two doors in the intensive care unit.
Amy leaned against the door, not far from the inside of the door. Through the small window, she jealously listened to Isabelle’s conversations with them.
She was convinced that Warren talked in his sleep with his eyes closed. She gradually relaxed. Isabelle’s treatment for him was starting
to work.
She clenched her fist.
As the night approached, the intense confrontation in the hallway outside came to an end. The Levine family withdrew.
Marin, Alex, and Jonah looked very pale. The situation seemed worrisome.
Amy immediately pushed the wheelchair out. Marin glanced at the closed ward. “How is Warren doing?”
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“I just managed to hold him back!” Amy said, pretending to be busy and glanced at each of them looking tired. She quickly urged, “It’s already three o’clock, you guys should go rest.”
“No, you stay with Warren alone. Who knows if Arnold will come back with a journalist,” Alex hesitated, rubbing his forehead.
Amy couldn’t let them stay here and found out that Isabelle was treating them inside.
She immediately frowned. “I need an extremely quiet environment to treat Warren. So, you should assign some bodyguards to keep a close watch. If you exhaust yourselves, it will be even harder for Warren.”
“Amy is right,” Jonah replied, unable to bear seeing Amy in distress. “Let’s come back when it’s daylight. The bodyguard will report if there’s anything.”
Marin looked inside and it was quiet. Surely the treatment was effective. He checked his watch and realized there were only four hours until morning, so he nodded in agreement.
They three went to rest.
Eight bodyguards stayed in place.
Amy squinted her eyes and finally breathed a sigh of relief.
She pretended to return to the gate and coldly stared at Isabelle’s back.
At dawn, Isabelle stopped the treatment and carefully examined Warren. She found that his pulse had become steady and regular, and his pupils were much clearer.
She took a deep breath.
Isabelle fed him a pill from her pocket.
