City center, hospital.
"My dear, sob sob, what's wrong with you? I've missed you so much during this time, and you haven't come to see me. Now that something's happened to you, does this mean our wedding will have to be postponed, sob sob!"
Isabelle Nightingale lay on the hospital bed, crying.
Benjamin Grant was lying on the bed, his arm just recently reattached, still wrapped in heavy layers of gauze.
He opened his eyes, sat up, got out of bed, his whole body aching terribly.
"Isabelle, I'm not dead yet, why are you crying?"
He said, holding Isabelle Nightingale's waist.
"My dear, I'm worried about you. How did you get hurt?" Isabelle Nightingale was on the verge of breaking down, the Nightingale Family was in trouble, and her mother, Violet Hargrove, had ended up in the hospital, with the doctor at the time diagnosing her as a vegetative state, scaring her to death.
She hadn't returned to the Nightingale Family for several days.
The Nightingale Group was leaderless.
