Her composure and magnanimity stood in stark contrast to Bertrand’s petty vindictiveness. This disparity only heightened Hilary’s displeasure. After all, Bertrand was his designated successor, and no patriarch welcomed seeing their heir overshadowed by others. Nevertheless, he could do little about his son’s evident lack of composure.
Bernie interjected with a diplomatic smile, “Young people today possess a refreshing capacity for forgiveness and prefer to leave grievances behind.” This tactful remark served to alleviate the tension for Hilary’s benefit.
Having held a position of prominence for countless years, Hilary immediately recognized the artful mediation. At this juncture, maintaining cordiality was clearly the wisest course. Vincent, after all, stood at the zenith of his influence, and none present could risk his displeasure—at least not in that moment.
Hilary laughed heartily and said, “You’re right.”
But scarcely had Hilary’s words faded when a sudden, violent sound erupted nearby.
Bang!
All heads turned toward the disturbance, revealing a rough-looking assailant brandishing a gun, having just shot a small girl.
The child appeared no more than seven or eight years old. The bullet had struck her leg, drawing a piercing cry of agony.
Panicked screams erupted from the surrounding patrons while the child’s mother clutched her daughter desperately, her voice breaking with terror, “Please! My child. Please save my child. Help!”
Blood poured relentlessly from the little girl’s wound; without swift intervention, her life hung precariously in the balance.
Having discharged his weapon, the assailant attempted to flee. Without hesitation, Hilary and his son launched into pursuit. “Stop!” They quickly drew their guns from their waists, clearly carrying firearms at all times.
gα?ησν?s．?оm takes you away
Bernie hastened to the little girl’s side, his eyes betraying profound concern. “Good heavens! This wound is grave. An ambulance must be summoned immediately.” As he spoke, he retrieved his phone with urgent movements to contact emergency services.
Everyone present understood the grim reality—the hospital lay forty minutes away. The entire journey would consume precious time they simply didn’t have. Worse still, rush-hour traffic had descended upon the city, making any estimate of travel time unreliable at best. The child lay trembling in her mother’s protective embrace, tears streaming down her ashen face, her strength visibly ebbing with each passing moment.
These events had transpired within mere minutes, yet the little girl’s life hung by an increasingly fragile thread.
Having completed the call, Bernie surveyed the gathering with desperate eyes. “Does anyone have knowledge of first aid? The bleeding must be stopped!”
Immediately, or she may not survive!” Bernie’s gaze inadvertently drifted toward Katelyn, his eyes filled with anxiety. It seemed like a casual question, but his urgency was unmistakable.
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