Muttering a half-baked excuse to Sienna Flynn, Dominic Mylod slipped out of the villa and hailed a cab, directing the driver toward Center Hospital. The neon signs of the city blurred past the window, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile reality he knew awaited him inside.
When he pushed open the door to the ward, the sight of Casey Yabut was enough to make even the most stoic observer wince. The man was a broken landscape of bruises and white plaster. Both his left arm and right leg were encased in heavy casts, suspended by pulleys that looked like medieval t*****e devices. He lay there in the dimly lit room, isolated and abandoned, the very picture of a man whose world had collapsed.
A wave of genuine pity washed over Dominic. Here was a man who had done nothing but work hard and love
