Chapter 38: Two Prominent Families Gathered

Jeremiah had started the fire this time. If anything happened to Samuel, Alaric and Harriet would likely explode with rage. Yes, Samuel had pushed Raylee into the water, but did that truly matter? Not in the slightest.

Raylee’s anxiety mounted as time wore on. Pacing outside her hospital room, her heart pounded. Just as she was about to investigate the Lu family's situation, her phone rang. It was Layla. "Raylee, Jeremiah asked me to tell you to rest and not wait up for him."

"What's going on with him? Layla, tell me, where is he?"

After hanging up, Raylee immediately rushed to an exclusive private hospital, still in her hospital gown. The VIP ward was crowded. Both the Lorimers and the Goodridges were present—two of the city's most powerful families, gathered because of a gunshot.

Samuel had just emerged from surgery. Pale and eyes closed, he lay on the bed, his shoulder heavily bandaged, blood seeping through the fabric. The sight was unnerving. Waverly sobbed beside him. Kaylee stood unnoticed at the entrance.

Victor, his deep-set features strikingly similar to Jeremiah’s, stood with his hands behind his back. His sharp gaze darkened as he turned to Alaric. "Alaric," he said, "my son acted recklessly and hurt yours. I ask you, as an elder, to overlook this youthful mistake and forgive him."

Even in apology, Victor exuded dominance, commanding respect without raising his voice.

Alaric scoffed. "An accident? With witnesses, how could it be an accident?"

"I understand the fault lies with my son," Victor admitted. "Any compensation or apology needed, I will provide."

Alaric's brows furrowed. "Hmph! My only son was nearly killed, and you think an apology and compensation will suffice? What do you take the Goodridge family for?"

"A shoulder wound isn't life-threatening. He'll recover with a few days' rest."

Alaric remained cold. "He was lucky. What if it had been worse? Your son shoots mine in public today—what prevents him from doing it again tomorrow? Victor, we are both fathers. If my son had shot yours, would you simply let it go?"

At the doorway, hearing Alaric's fierce defense of Samuel, Kaylee felt a deep, wrenching sorrow. Her heart felt shattered. She wanted to cry, but no tears came. This, she realized, was the difference between a real child and an adopted one. Four years ago, when the Lorimer family had imprisoned her, Alaric hadn't lifted a finger to help, severing all ties without hesitation. His life wasn't in danger, yet Alaric was furious, demanding justice. The comparison was crushing.

"Alaric, I give you my word—I will handle this," Victor said, his patience thinning. A gun was tossed at Jeremiah's feet. His voice was low and commanding. "Take responsibility for your actions. Wherever you aimed at Samuel, aim at yourself."

A dark glint flickered in Jeremiah's eyes. He picked up the gun without hesitation.

Layla rushed over, panicked. "No, Dad! There are other ways to apologize! This will only cause more harm!"

"Stay out of this!" Victor's sharp gaze silenced her. He turned back to Jeremiah. "A real man owns his actions. This is your only chance to make amends."

Jeremiah pushed Layla aside, his finger curling around the trigger.

Raylee's mind went blank. Ignoring everything, she lunged forward. "No!"

Bang.

The gun fired. Raylee had snatched it away, but not in time. The bullet grazed Jeremiah's shoulder and embedded itself in the wall. The recoil knocked Raylee to the ground, her frostbitten hands—swollen and raw—exposed as her gloves flew off.

The room was in chaos. Harriet, Waverly, and Layla cowered. Only Victor and Alaric remained calm, unmoved by the gunfire.