Chapter 218
In the hospital, Johnny was finally wheeled out, his ordeal merely a result of a stressful shock. Clara couldn't help
but notice his temples speckled with grey, a clear sign of how deeply the incident had shaken him. She stood
quietly by his bedside, a wave of regret washing over her.
Johnny lay there, staring blankly at the stark white ceiling for what seemed like ages before breaking the silence,
"Has Quinn cback yet?"
A whole night had slipped by, and no one had gone to fetch Quinn. Naomi had cried until her eyes were swollen.
"You fainted out of nowhere; | couldn't think of anything else. Besides, the kidnapping was staged. She'll
probably find her way back on her own. How are you feeling now? Is it serious?" Naomi's voice was laced with
worry.
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Johnny's state was fragile, as if he might slip away at any moment. He closed his eyes, taking several deep
breaths before reopening them to focus on Clara. Clara stiffened momentarily, then hurried to his side, her lips
moving soundlessly before she finally managed to speak, "Dad."
Johnny lifted his hand, intending to give her a comforting pat on the head, but let it fall back down, as if the
effort was too much. Clara's eyes stung with tears she refused to shed, her heart twisting in pain.
After a long pause, she reassured him, "Don't worry about the company, Dad. I'll make sure we get that project
back. The Bradford family business will pull through this rough patch." During the night of Johnny's
unconsciousness, Clara had pieced together everything she knew, realizing just how critical this project was. It
wasn't just about making a comeback for the Bradford family; it was a fight for survival. The company's finances
were already in the red, and Johnny had been bearing the weight alone, keeping everyone in the dark. Naomi,
Quinn, and even Clara herself had been spending without restraint, unaware of the pressure on their family's
backbone, who finally buckled under the strain.
Johnny remained silent. His throat too sore to speak, and he didn't know what to say even if he could. The tense
quiet was suddenly disrupted when Ryan walked in, who had learned from the household staff about the
previous night's . Ryan's heart twisted the sight of his father. Johnny seemed to have aged twenty years
overnight.
Ryan opened his mouth to call out, "Dad," but tears welled up before he could utter a word. He quickly retreated
behind Clara, quietly wiping away his tears. Observing his son's distress, Johnny felt a twinge of disappointment
but also relief. At least Ryan had a good heart, not one to harm others. A bit naive, perhaps, but safe was
enough.
Johnny closed his eyes again, feeling a reassuring hand squeeze his. Clara's voice whispered softly to him, "Dad,
I'm serious. I'll bring that project back."
Johnny had little hope; the Ferguson Corporation was such a powerhouse that their involvement felt like a dead
end.
Clara added another note of caution, "Focus on getting better. If Quinn comes back, keep her away from your
meds. She's capable of anything."
Naomi instinctively wanted to defend Quinn, but the memory of last night's projection stopped her cold. She
found herself unable to utter a word, realizing she never truly knew her daughter.
As Clara was leaving, she cface to face with Quinn and the police. Quinn looked a mess-clothes in tatters,
eyes swollen, hair a wild tangle. She pointed accusingly at Clara. "Officer, it's her! She orchestrated everything
that happened to me!" Her eyes blazed with hatred, as if she wanted to drag Clara down with her.
From Quinn's disarray, Clara knew she must have faced ssort of retribution and was now out of her mind.
Like a woman possessed, Quinn lunged at Clara. "It's all because of you! If it weren't for you, my life wouldn't be
this miserable! You should just go to hell!"
The police quickly restrained her, but not before snapping handcuffs onto Clara's wrists. Clara found the situation
almost absurd. "Mind tellingwhat crI'm supposed to have committed?" she asked, a hint of irony in her
voice.