Martin Riley wasn't in great shape. He had already been stabbed, and when the explosion happened, he shielded everyone, causing further injuries to his back.
The door to the operating room suddenly swung open, and a doctor hurried over. "Who is the patient's family member?"
Crystal Foster quickly got up and rushed forward. The wound on her knee almost made her fall, but she gritted her teeth and pushed through the pain.
"I-I'm his wife. How is he doing?"
"The patient's condition is not very optimistic. Here's the critical condition notice. Please sign it."
Crystal's hands trembled as she took the notice, tears streaming down her face like a broken string of pearls, impossible to wipe away.
Her hand shook as she signed her name, biting her lip hard.
Then she looked up at the doctor. "I'm his wife, and I'm also a doctor. I'm Sylvia Byrne from the WMA Institute. I want to be involved in the surgery. If anything goes wrong, I'll take responsibility."
