NOVPUB
Chapter 80 - 80-Ambush
Before she could react, someone suddenly charged at her from behind and knocked her to the ground. The box in her hand hit the floor with a thud. Through a blur, she caught a glimpse of what was inside—the box contained a high-quality diamond, its color bright and smooth.
Then, a sharp gunshot rang out across the chaotic hall. The crowd below erupted into a frenzy, with screams, cries, and shouts blending together. The person behind her grunted before falling silent.
In a panic, she scrambled to get up and turned over the person who had shielded her from the fatal shot. There, Vincent lay on the ground, his face pale and his chest soaked with blood. She felt dizzy, as if her breath were about to stop entirely.
Tears streamed down her face as she held him tightly in her arms, letting out a piercing scream.
"No—! Vince, brother—!"
Her cries echoed through the room, hysterical and desperate, as if only this outburst could expel the fear and anxiety swelling in her chest.
At the sound of her heart-wrenching scream, the people on stage finally snapped back to their senses. Wendy quickly called an ambulance.
Grace Lancaster, looking at Vincent lying in a pool of blood, her face drained of color, staggered a few steps before Maureen Lancaster rushed to catch her, preventing her from collapsing.
Stumbling forward, Grace's trembling hand brushed over his face, and tears fell like rain.
"Vince—"
Then, as if realizing something, she raised her hand and slapped the woman sitting there, holding Vincent and crying.
"Get out! Get away from him!"
She screamed, her face twisted with rage, completely losing the composed, elegant demeanor she usually maintained as the president of the Lancaster empire. The veins on her forehead stood out as she slapped Cynthia with all her strength.
The force of the slap left Cynthia with blood at the corner of her mouth. With Grace's hand already stained with Vincent's blood, Cynthia's pale face bore not only five red fingerprints but also a large, shocking smear of blood.
It was this slap that jolted Cynthia back from her chaotic sorrow. Overwhelmed by pain, she almost forgot that she was a doctor. Now, she could no longer hide her identity or ignore the burning pain on her face.
"Vince, don't be afraid, I'll save you! I'll definitely save you!"
She trembled as she reached for Vincent's tie. She had to stop the bleeding first, or he might die from blood loss before the ambulance arrived.
As she tried to pull his tie, she glanced at the spot where the bullet had struck his chest. Dizziness swept over her again as she realized the bullet had entered from his back, piercing through his body and landing in his chest. That spot... it seemed to have hit his heart.
Tears surged uncontrollably, blurring her vision. The more anxious she became, the harder it was to function. She struggled with the tie, unable to get it off, when Vincent weakly grabbed her trembling hand, forcing out a faint smile.
"Cynthia, don't cry, don't cry. I'm not going to die."
Earlier, everyone's attention had been focused on the gift from the daughters to William S. Lancaster, but his gaze had been on her the entire time. He stood behind Grace Lancaster, yet all his thoughts were on Cynthia.
He knew she had never liked occasions like this and that she had stubbornly refused to call William S. Lancaster "father." He had always assumed it was because she harbored resentment about being sent to the orphanage, never understanding that her resistance came from the simple fact that he was not her real father.
Watching her hold the delicate box, looking helpless and lost like a child, his heart ached. He longed to go to her, wrap her in his arms, and take her away from this crowd of pretense, away from the noise and the chaos.
Just as she seemed to gather the courage to speak, he suddenly noticed a man in black in the crowd below, raising a gun and aiming it at her. In that instant, his mind went blank, leaving only one thought: she must not be harmed! Without hesitation, he lunged forward, pushing her to the ground.
As the bullet lodged in his body, the pain hit him, but his mind was eerily clear and cold. He silently spoke to her in his heart: Cynthia, as long as you live, as long as you're okay, I'll have no regrets, even if I never get you.
Vincent's words only made Cynthia cry harder.
"Vince, don't talk, don't talk!"
Cynthia looked at the man lying in a pool of blood, his face pale, and her heart ached beyond measure. All the resentment she had held inside for so long suddenly vanished. How could she still hate him, when a man was willing to give his life for hers?
"Cynthia! You're a jinx, a bad omen! Ever since you and your mother came into our family, there hasn't been a single day of peace!"
Doreen Lancaster stormed forward in a rage, raising her sharp high heels and kicking Cynthia hard on her exposed calf. Cynthia's pale skin was immediately torn, and a crimson stain seeped out.
The sharp pain shot up through her leg, but Cynthia seemed oblivious to it. She only wept as her hands shook, desperately trying to tear off Vincent's tie to use it for a bandage to stop his bleeding.
"Shameless!"
Doreen Lancaster took another step forward, snatching the tie from her hands and raising her foot to kick Cynthia again. But before she could strike, a powerful force from behind shoved her far away, accompanied by a sharp, commanding voice:
"My woman doesn't need anyone to teach her a lesson!"
Doreen Lancaster turned around and found herself face-to-face with Albert Wilson's dark, cold expression. She froze in shock as the man strode forward, grabbing the woman who had been sitting on the ground, crying uncontrollably, and pulling her into his arms. His fierce gaze swept over her, and Doreen Lancaster immediately backed off, intimidated.
Cynthia, still in his arms, struggled wildly, screaming:
"What are you doing? Let go of me! I need to bandage Vince's wound!"
Albert Wilson said coldly as he dragged her toward the exit:
"He won't die from a little blood loss. The ambulance is on its way!"
Albert's face was taut, clearly on the edge of fury. His emotions could only be described as a mix of shock and anger. He was shocked by how deeply Vincent's feelings for Cynthia ran, and angry that his woman would need another man to protect her.
As Cynthia was dragged toward the back of the hotel lobby, she struggled and shouted hysterically toward Grace Lancaster and the others:
"Quick! Stop the bleeding! You have to stop the bleeding—!"
Her voice was sharp and tragic, echoing through the empty hall with an indescribable sense of desolation.
The crowd in the lobby had already been scattered in chaos by the gunshot, some running for cover while others were protected by Carbles' men, who had arrived quickly. The protection was less about safety and more about ensuring no one spoke a word about what had happened that day.
Vincent's parents, who had been attending the birthday celebration, were devastated when they saw him lying in a pool of blood. His mother fainted on the spot and was immediately rushed to the hospital. Karl followed her to the hospital, unable to stay behind.
"Albert Wilson, let go of me! Let go of me! I have to save Vince!"
Cynthia, in a frenzy, kicked and struck the man holding her, her sharp heels hitting his leg. He winced in pain but didn't release her, continuing to drag her forward.
She hit him with all her might, kicked him, even grabbed his arm and desperately bit him. She bit so hard her teeth nearly ached, but still, he refused to let her go. Overcome with despair, she cried out loudly.
Seeing her in such a frantic state made Albert Wilson furious. He shoved her against the wall, veins bulging on his forehead as he growled:
"Are you still not satisfied with the mockery you've received? Still think the slap wasn't hard enough?"
This damn woman—was she really that shameless? Didn't she realize no one cared for her, yet she still insisted on clinging to them? And now, she was crying so desperately for another man—where did that leave him, Albert Wilson? Even if that man had been injured saving her, did she really need to make such a scene?
Cynthia slumped against the wall, her shoulders trembling with sobs. Her hair had come undone, her dress was disheveled, and her makeup had smeared, leaving her eyes darkened with mascara. The slap from Grace Lancaster had left five vivid red finger marks and streaks of blood across her face. Her appearance was utterly disheveled, terrifying even.
But she didn't care anymore. All she could think about was Vincent, who was in critical condition. She was no longer in her right mind—whoever tried to stop her from seeing him would feel her fury, including the man holding her now.
With a glare of pure hatred, she glared back at him, her teeth gritted, determined not to back down.
Carbles, walking toward them, stopped in his tracks at the sight of their intense standoff. He cleared his throat softly.
Despite Cynthia's disheveled appearance, Albert Wilson wasn't in much better shape. His once neatly styled hair was now a mess, his expensive suit covered in tear stains and possibly some black makeup residue.
Seeing Carbles approach, Albert Wilson finally released her, though he quickly pulled her into his arms.
