Caspian Hughes stood frozen, the broad-shouldered man looking as if he had been struck by lightning. After a long, agonizing silence, he dropped his head and squeezed his eyes shut. His throat bobbed, and then, without a sound, tears began to stream down his refined face.

It was then that the Harrison and Hughes parents arrived.

"Doctor, how is she?" Margaret Hayes asked, her voice trembling. They had fought their way through the hospital corridors, their hearts numbed by dread, yet they still clung to a shred of desperate hope as they stared at the doctor.

The doctor offered a weary, helpless shake of his head, repeating the grim prognosis he had given earlier. They were not gods; some lives simply slipped through their fingers no matter how hard they fought to save them.

"Oh, my sweet Rose!" Margaret wailed. Her poor girl—she had suffered so much these past few years, all because she had loved the wrong man. Rose usually lived on her own, always downplaying her troubles to save her mother from worry. And just when it seemed she had finally found a moment of stability, this attack had torn it all away.

The room was filled with those who loved her most. Veronica and Lily Hughes could not hold back their sobs. Even Albert Harrison and Gideon Hughes struggled to keep their composure, their eyes glassy as they fought to hold the tears at bay.

Albert gripped Margaret’s shoulders. "Margaret, as long as she is breathing, there is hope. We have to believe in her."

Margaret buried her face in his chest, nodding violently between ragged, gasping sobs. She knew he was right—as long as she was alive, there was still a chance, wasn't there?

Moments later, another doctor stepped out, cradling a tiny bundle. He handed the infant to Caspian. "Young man, you need to pull yourself together. Raising this child will be the continuation of her life. He is premature, so he will need to stay in the incubator for a while."

Caspian looked down at the infant. The baby was quiet, resting peacefully after a brief cry. The group surged forward, a collective mix of grief and relief. At least the mother and child had not been lost—that was a miracle in itself. They wiped their eyes, finding a sliver of hope in the small, innocent face.

Albert Harrison felt a complicated knot in his chest. He knew the child belonged to Maximus Anderson. Given Rose’s nature, this baby was her whole world. But since the wedding had effectively dissolved in tragedy, he wondered if the child should be brought to the Harrison estate.

The Hughes family, however, were none the wiser. They believed the child was Caspian’s. They looked down at the sleeping infant with pure, genuine love, convinced it was their own bloodline.

Caspian’s painful expression slowly softened. Yes. This child was Rose’s hope. He would raise him, pour every ounce of his love into him, and wait for her to wake up.

Before long, Rose was wheeled out of the operating room, pale and beautiful as a sleeping princess. The group scrambled to follow the gurney. Margaret watched her daughter’s translucent skin, her heart shattering all over again.

Rose was moved into a private VIP room. Silence descended, heavy and suffocating.

In the shadows, Maximus Anderson watched, a silent spectator to his own failure. Rose was in a vegetative state. He didn’t know if he should feel grateful—at least she was still alive, right? There was still a chance.

From the dark corner of the room, Maximus cast one last, hard look at Caspian Hughes. His eyes narrowed, and a cold, sharp resolve settled over him.