The moment Dexter woke, all her secrets would be exposed. Kayla knew then the Fullers would never let her stay. Her heart pounded, panic a tangible thing. She didn't hear Myra calling until they were back in the hospital ward. Dexter was wheeled in and placed on the bed, now stabilized.

Should she kill him? The thought clawed at her, growing more insistent. Her hands twitched; she almost succumbed to the urge. But Myra's presence was an insurmountable wall; there was no plausible way to remove her.

Kayla's panic escalated. Regret and frustration churned within her. What had she been thinking? In a rash moment, she'd exposed the map, risking everything. Now, trapped between disastrous outcomes, she felt utterly helpless. A faint movement from the bed snapped her back to the present.

Dexter stirred, his fingers twitching before his eyes fluttered open.

"Darling, you're finally awake! How do you feel? Does anything hurt?" Myra's voice, brimming with relief, grasped Dexter's hand.

Dexter didn't glance at Myra. His vacant eyes, fixed on the ceiling, were utterly lifeless. No response came to her calls.

Myra's unease grew. She immediately summoned the doctor, but the diagnosis shattered her.

"The patient suffered severe head trauma; the near-suffocation likely triggered psychological damage from external stimuli…"

As the doctor finished, Myra staggered, nearly collapsing. How could this happen?

"Doctor, please! Do something! Medications, surgeries, anything—I don't care about the cost! I just want him to get better!"

"Mrs. Fuller, I understand, but it's not about money. Given his condition… there's no hope for recovery."

Myra was speechless. No hope for recovery. The words hit her like a blow. She stared blankly at Dexter, his eyes wide and vacant, a foolish grin on his face as drool dripped from his chin. He mumbled incoherently.

Myra closed her eyes, struggling to process the news. After a moment, she steadied herself, slowly accepting the harsh reality. "It's okay," she thought. "As long as he's here, that's enough." She gently wiped the drool from his chin, her movements tender.

As Kayla watched, her heart raced. This was perfect! Dexter was a fool! With him in this state, no one would learn about the map. She no longer had to fear his revenge.

Pretending to cry, she whispered, "Mom, now that Dad is like this… what are we going to do?"

"It's okay. I'm still here. Kayla, you've been through enough. Go home and rest. I'll stay with your father. I won't be going back for a while, so take care of yourself."

Myra's voice, though tired, held more resilience and calm than fatigue. The events had changed her, yet in some ways, she remained the same. But Kayla, consumed by her own relief, missed the depth in Myra's gaze, a depth she couldn't comprehend.