Chapter 14
Chapter 14
1288 iVouchers
Mary didn’t care what happened to Ralph.
She lay quietly in her hospital bed.
Outside her room, hushed whispers from the nurses’ station drifted to her ears.
“Mr. Walker insisted on donating 800 milliliters of his own blood to save Mrs. Walker. The doctors warned him, but he wouldn’t listen. Now he’s paying the price.”
“When Mrs. Walker was trapped in the rubble, he dug through rocks and debris with his bare
hands!
His fingers were shredded, yet he refused treatment. He barely ate for days… Now his wounds are festering with acute inflammation. His vitals are critical.”
“Who’d imagine the CEO of Walker Group would reduce himself to this state? The company might see a change of leadership soon.’
Mary’s fingertips curled slightly.
The nurses’ voices faded, leaving the room in silence.
Memories flooded back-the terror she felt buried under debris, hearing frantic scraping sounds, hearing someone scream her name with increasing hoarseness and madness.
She knew it was Ralph’s voice-like a persistent demon haunting her, relentless even in
death!
Back then, she had one thought: Don’t save me. Don’t bring me back.
She’d rather have died forever in that rubble!
Yet he dragged her back at such cost?
Shredding his fingers digging?
Donating 800 milliliters of blood?
Why… why wouldn’t he let her go even now?
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Mary refused to relive that agony. She wouldn’t wake. She wouldn’t repeat those gory memories, lick her trampled dignity off the ground, or face the man who’d shattered her soul.
She lay listlessly, eyelids sealed shut.
Time blurred until hospital bed wheels rattled nearby.
A nurse protested: “Mr. Walker, your condition is critical! You must stay in bed!”
Mary’s heart jolted.
Ralph’s frail voice insisted: “My wife’s too far. Move our beds together.”
Beds clicked. The scent of doubled antiseptic stung her nostrils.
Though her eyes stayed closed, she felt his gaze burning her face.
Ralph looked deathly pale, yet his eyes blazed with obsessive madness.
“Mary…”
་་
He rasped her name, voice sandpaper-rough. “Mary, I won’t let you out of my sight again. Never.”
Mary remained still.
Two days passed.
Ralph recovered slightly but never left her side.
That night, as Mary slept, the door whispered open.
A doctor in a white coat entered holding a report.
“Mr. Walker.”
His expression tightened. “We need to discuss Mrs. Walker’s condition.”
Ralph instantly tensed. “What’s wrong?”
The doctor sighed. “Her physical functions are recovering. By all accounts, she should have woken up by now.”
Ralph’s breath hitched: “What do you mean?”
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“We suspect… she may have developed dissociative disorder.
Medically termed psychogenic coma, where the patient’s subconscious rejects reality and chooses to remain asleep.”
Ralph’s face instantly drained of color.
He shot to his feet, grabbing the doctor’s collar with a voice rasping horribly: “Then what do we do?
How do we wake her up?”
Startled by his sudden violence, the doctor remained calm: “Mr. Walker, please calm down… You’ve just recovered yourself. You must keep your emotions steady.
Besides, in such cases, medication and treatment have limited effect. The key lies with the patient herself…”
Ralph’s fingers slowly uncurled, his eyes dimming bit by bit.
“Rely on her…?”
He chuckled lowly, the sound steeped in endless bitterness. “If she wanted to wake up, she’d have done it already.”
The doctor stayed silent for a moment before finally saying: “Mr. Walker, perhaps you could try talking to her more. Recall some happy memories to stimulate her emotional response.”
Ralph stood motionless, silent for a long time.
Night deepened.
Only the steady beeping of monitors filled the hospital room.
Ralph sat by Mary’s bedside, his voice soft. “That year, we went for wedding photos. A business partner suddenly showed up. I ran off midway. You were furious for ages, but later forgave me.”
“Another year, we planned a beach trip. I canceled because of a bidding war. You forgave
me.”
“Yet another year, I got drunk after a project failure, flipped the whole table of food you cooked. You still forgave me…”
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“Mary, you used to be so gentle, so generous, forgiving me again and again. This time… you really can’t forgive me anymore, can you?”
His voice hitched, eyes rimmed red.
Mary felt his fingertips lightly brush her brows as his words dissolved into sobs:
“Mary… I’m begging you. I, Ralph, am begging you. Forgive me one last time…”
“Just this last time, okay?
Is that okay?”
His pleading held unprecedented humility by her bed, finally crumbling into muffled weeping against her silent response.
Outside the window, the night grew thick.
No one saw the tear that silently trailed from Mary’s eye after Ralph left.
It seeped soundlessly into the pillowcase, vanishing without a trace.
Mary’s consciousness drifted, trapped in a murky deep sea.
Her soul seemed split in two-one half numb in slumber, the other acutely enduring every
agony.
At dawn the next day, Ralph gently wiped her small hands with a warm towel.
His assistant rushed in clutching urgent documents.
“Mr. Walker, the board of directors-”
“Get out.”
Ralph didn’t look up, his voice icy.
The assistant persisted: “But this overseas merger deadline-if we don’t sign today, Walker Industries stands to lose at least-”
“I said, get out.”
Ralph slowly raised bloodshot eyes. “Don’t understand?”
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The assistant recoiled from the ferocity in his gaze, not daring another word before fleeing.
The room plunged into silence once more.
Ralph looked down at Mary, tracing her features lightly with his fingertips, “Mary, only now do I realize that my success without you is meaningless. I don’t care about anything now-the company, projects, money… I don’t want any of it…”
“I just want you to wake up…”
His voice was so low it was almost inaudible.
“Even if… after you wake up, you hate me, hit me, curse me, even want to kill me… it doesn’t
matter.”
“I just want… to hear you talk to me again…”
