Donald walked up to Coarmy with a grim expression.
Even though Coarmy was a head taller than him.
He couldn't shake the immense sense of pressure he felt from the man standing before him.
"Who told you my son is dead?" Donald glared at Coarmy, his fists cracking with tension.
If I told you, would you believe that your son himself said it?
Coarmy's lips moved, but the absurd words stayed unspoken.
He was too stunned inside.
Could it be that even with a crushed heart, that kid is still alive? Is he some kind of cockroach?
And why does everyone act as if he's on the verge of death?
Quagmire and the others exchanged confused glances. They didn't know how the rumor started, but somehow it spread that Luca was about to die.
From the looks of it, however, his condition didn't seem too serious.
While they were pondering this, the door of the ICU, covered by thick isolation curtains, was pushed open.
