On the 23rd floor of the VIP hospital area, Paul and Mrs. Cotton were waiting at the corridor.
Mrs. Cotton glanced at the tightly shut door of the ward from time to time. Holding her handkerchief, she nervously asked Paul, "They've been in the room for an hour now. Haven't they finished examining Rachel yet?"
Paul comforted her in a low voice, "Mrs. Cotton, relax. They are doctors. They know what they are doing. Let's wait a little longer."
"I hope there is good news." Mrs. Cotton sighed.
Just as she sighed, the door of the ward suddenly opened, and a few doctors with tall build, blond hair and blue eyes came out.
Paul asked the doctor in French, "How did the examination go? Can she wake up?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Clinton." the doctor replied tactfully. "Her brain has been severely damaged
