My Wife Defended Her Father’s Killer

She hung up on me again.

I did not expect that, just because of Hugh’s words, Meg had misunderstood that it was my father who got into the car accident. She thought that I was calling her to get my hands on her money.

I was anxious and frustrated. I stood there with a thick wad of receipts in my hand as I looked at the nurse standing before the operating room.

However, when I called Meg again, I realized she had blocked me.

I was extremely anxious. I exhausted all contact methods, but none of them worked.

She said she was busy, but why did she still have the time to block me?

It was her own father who was lying in the operating room!

How could she believe in Hugh’s baseless words?

I suppressed my emotions so I would not embarrass myself in the crowded hospital.

It was not the right time to be mad at Meg.

Nothing was more important than Luther’s life. I called a few friends and managed to borrow a hundred thousand dollars. Then, I quickly went downstairs to make the payment.

My back was drenched in sweat when I rushed back to the emergency room again.

I clenched my fist as I stared intently at the red light on top of the operating room doors. I kept praying that Luther would be fine.

Luther had always been very kind to me. He knew that I had a lot of siblings, and I was the awkward middle child. Hence, he had treated me like his own son.

Even though he had been divorced for years and single-handedly raised Meg, he was not the type of father who was overbearing.

On the contrary, he respected Meg and my personal space. He lived alone in a different house, and he would only visit us on the weekends. He would even bring us our favorite food.

This time, he had come over because Meg had mentioned that she missed his chili. He had remembered.

He had just made the chili and delivered it to our place. On the way back, he got into a car accident.

Our houses were actually very close to each other; he only had to cross a small junction.

I heard that the Good Samaritan who sent Luther to the hospital was a drunk driver. The drunk driver was speeding, and Luther landed a few feet away. Blood was pooling around him.

When I recalled what the nurse had told me, I had a bad feeling.

The doctor walked out of the operating room and shook his head at me. He sighed and said, “It was too late to save him. We tried our best. He’s still awake, but maybe…

“You should go and talk to him.”

Something snapped in my mind.

My legs went limp as I fell onto the floor. I started crying uncontrollably.

However, I had no time to waste. I struggled to my feet and went into the ward.

Luther was hooked up to several tubes.

A few hours ago, he was still smiling and telling me that he would bring me his tiramisu the next time.

Instead, he was lying in a hospital bed with an ashen face.

He forced a smile when he saw me.

“Easton, you’re here. Where’s Meg?”