All Charles Mcintosh could do was drive faster.
The black Lamborghini, like a swift, navigated through the morning fog.
Finally, the car stopped at the nearest hospital.
Sylvan Cheney rushed towards the operating room, carrying Jasmine Yale in his arms.
The doctors arranged by McIntosh followed him hastily, all ready for the surgery.
As the nurses in white coats and masks pushed Jasmine into the operating room, time seemed to freeze and stand still.
Mcintosh cast a glance at this usually calm man, who now wore a light layer of dejection.
Like Sylvan, McIntosh didn't know how the operation would result.
Jasmine had lost a lot of blood on the way.
A crisp sound echoed, "Thump"—
A lighter suddenly dropped out of Jasmine's pocket.
Sylvan was taken aback, bending over to pick it up.
Quite an expensive lighter, where did she get it from?
Sylvan pocketed the lighter, inserting his hands in his pants pockets while staring at the operating room door.
