Contrary to whispers of the magnate Douglas, already on the mend and off to seal a monumental deal in Livebop, the truth was far grimmer.

Inside the sterile walls of the operating room, the urgency was palpable.

Leonel was fading, his blood loss significant.

His left leg, badly broken, would soon be pieced together with metal, and the doctors warned of a possible future bound to a wheelchair.

The damage was that grave.

His thigh, a jigsaw of bone fragments, bore the brunt of the trauma.

Rena lingered outside the surgery room, her eyes brimming with sorrow.

Marcus was by her side, offering silent support as he held her arm, sharing the weight of her grief without uttering a word.

He recalled the moment when Leonel, clinging to the last threads of awareness post-accident, implored, “Keep this from Alexis.

I’ve promised to let her go.

endures a lifetime of hardship if it had

with Alexis, but he recognized

with Leonel’s resolve, was

could respond, finally nodding

“Alright,” Marcus whispered.

“We won’t tell her.

had the promise been made than

blood bank was

himself still on the mend, arrived to contribute, giving 400 milliliters of

he emerged, his pallor was evident, his complexion

to assist Waylen, guiding him to

Elva came quickly, their

“How is everything?”

tones, Marcus responded, “Alexis

severe

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