paris, June.
A sudden downpour forced a plane to an unexpected stop in the city of New York, casting a heavy weight on the atmosphere in the cabin where even a pin drop could be heard.
Sitting on the couch was Lucas Marson, his face stern and his presence commanding, like a statue.
"What's the status at the hospital?"
The deep, magnetic sound of his voice seemed especially ominous in the silence.
Although he only slightly moved his lips, anyone in the quiet private cabin could hear him loud and clear.
"Mr. Marson, I just spoke with the lead surgeon. The situation is not very optimistic. The old man wants to see you as soon as possible."
The assistant answered nervously, glancing at the phone in his hand with a serious look on his face.
Everybody knew about the CEO's temper. At this point, it was wiser to say nothing for fear of losing their jobs by crossed words.
"Get in touch with the airline and meteorological agency. Find out when we can take off. If need be, I'll drive at this point but we must reach New York by midnight, or you're all fired!"
His words were as ruthless as a ticking bomb, exploding in the silent cabin!
Lucas Marson maintained a stiff expression, with his fierce brows arching like mountains, enough to send chills down anyone's spine.
Hearing these, everyone around became even more apprehensive.
There were three hours left. If one were to drive as fast as a plane, it might be possible to get to the First Hospital of New York City by midnight.
Though, with the pouring rain, no matter how fast a car could be, it still couldn't match up to a plane. Who would dare risk their lives over this joke!
One minute later.
The assistant standing nearby said with a pale face, "Mr. Lucas, we have already contacted the meteorological bureau and the airline. Given the current weather, the flight can only continue at dawn tomorrow. Rest assured, I have just contacted the best driver, aiming to reach the hospital before midnight."
The assistant then took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the cold sweat off his face.
Despite the unease in his heart, even his lips were pale, but the words he spoke were very strong.
Those who have been with Lucas Marson for many years knew his character. He despised people who were flustered. Even if there was a big event, if one could not keep a poker face, they had to speak steadily and powerfully.
Three seconds later.
Lucas Marson stepped off the private plane in a white shirt and black trousers, three or four assistants held umbrellas around him, afraid that the rain would wet his clothes and hair.
The car sped along the freeway, and because of the heavy rain, the other cars were driving cautiously.
Only one extended Rolls-Royce was racing in the torrential rain.
The black body of the car somehow instilled an inexplicable sense of fear. The rain was smashing against the car window like bombs being thrown around.
In the back seat of the car, Lucas Marson sat rigidly without moving.
His black hair was combed neatly, and his slight nod made it impossible for one to see the expression on his face.
At 11:58 and 46 seconds, the car gracefully and smoothly came to a halt at the hospital entrance.
The car door opened, Lucas Marson stepped out, with the assistant holding the umbrella quickly falling into step at his side.
The three bodyguards, drenched in rain followed directly behind him, keeping a hawk-eye on everyone around.
Because the man beside them was the most valuable man in the whole Cardiff City of Athens country.
The door of the ward was pushed open, a strong smell of disinfectant came rushing to the nose.
Lucas Marson couldn't help but furrow his brows, his burning gaze was fixed upon the white-haired old man lying on the bed.
"Grandfather."
His voice was resounding and powerful, yet as heavy as steel that weighed a thousand pounds.
The doctor and the nurse inside the ward had all gone out before he came in.
Only the old man lying on the bed, receiving oxygen from the tank, and a pale, frail girl sitting by the bed were left behind.
