chapter 92

The sterile, white corridors of the hospital were filled with the quiet hum of medical equipment and the occasional murmur of hushed conversations. The brothers—Chris, Tony, Xender, and Kelsey—stood outside the intensive care unit, their faces etched with worry and fatigue. They had been waiting for what felt like hours, their anxiety growing with each passing minute.

Finally, the doctor emerged from the room, his expression grave. "I'm afraid Austin's condition is critical," he said, his voice steady but tinged with sympathy. "He sustained significant injuries, and while we're doing everything we can, the prognosis is not good. He might not make it through the night."

The words hit them like a sledgehammer. Tony's fists clenched at his sides, his face contorted with a mix of anger and helplessness. "We can't lose him," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"We have to consider telling Inishola," Chris said, his voice low and strained. "He can reach Emily. She deserves to kno