Ryan paced the boardroom, his voice a low growl. "I understand your concerns, Mr. Henderson," he said, his gaze fixed on the window, his mind racing. "But this is a critical time for the company, and we need to act decisively."
He had been on the phone for hours, dealing with the fallout from a series of accidents that had plagued their companies in recent months. He was exhausted, his patience wearing thin, his mind churning with solutions and strategies.
The phone in his hand buzzed insistently, the insistent ring cutting through his conversation. He ignored it, hoping it would go to voicemail. But the insistent ring persisted, a jarring reminder of the outside world intruding on his carefully constructed bubble of control.
"Excuse me for a moment," he said, his voice tight with frustration. He answered the call, his tone curt. "What is it?"
A choked sob, a gasp of despair, and then his mother's voice, broken with fear, filled his ears. "Ryan, it's Lily... she's been hurt... she's in the hospital... she's in critical condition..."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs. His breath caught in his throat, his mind struggling to grasp the reality of the situation.
"What happened?" he managed to ask, his voice a mere whisper.
"She was... she was hit by a bullet," Eleanor said, her voice trembling. "It happened at the hospital... she was visiting her friend's mother... she's in critical condition... they're taking her into surgery..."
Ryan felt a wave of nausea wash over him. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the chaos, the fear, the overwhelming sense of loss. Lily, his daughter, his precious little girl, was hurt, critically injured. He had to get to her, to be with her, to make sure she was okay.
He hung up the phone, his fingers trembling. He looked at the stunned faces of the board members, his own face pale and drawn. "I have to go," he said, his voice hoarse. "Something has happened to my daughter."
He rushed out of the boardroom, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He called his driver, his voice urgent, his words clipped. He needed to get to the hospital, to be with Lily, to hold her hand, to make sure she was okay.
He arrived at the hospital, his heart pounding in his chest. He rushed to the front desk, his voice demanding, his eyes scanning the faces around him. "Where is she? Where is Lily Blackwood?"
The receptionist, her face pale with concern, pointed towards the operating room. "She's in surgery," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "They're still operating."
Ryan felt a surge of panic. He had to see her, to be with her, to make sure she was okay. He pushed through the doors of the operating room, his eyes searching for a sign of hope, a glimmer of reassurance.
He saw the nurses bustling around, their faces etched with concern. He saw the doctors huddled together, their voices hushed, their expressions grave. He saw the monitors, their lights flashing, their beeps a constant reminder of the fragility of life.
He saw her, his daughter, lying on the operating table, her tiny body still, her face pale, her eyes closed. He felt a wave of despair wash over him, a sense of helplessness that threatened to consume him.
He saw the surgeon, her back to him, her movements precise and confident. He didn't recognize her, but he felt a surge of hope, a glimmer of faith, as he watched her work, her hands a blur of motion, her focus unwavering.
He didn't know that the doctor operating on his daughter was none other than Sofia, the woman who had once been his dauther nanny,