Gerard rose abruptly, a chill settling in his eyes.

"Take me to him."

“Of course." Sensing Gerard's icy demeanor, the hospital director refrained from further commentary and led the way.

After one more glance at the operating room door, Gerard made his way to the opposite side of the corridor.

Upon entering the ward, Gerard spotted Jerrold lying in the bed, dressed in hospital garb.

Approaching quietly, Gerard gently rolled up Jerrold's sleeves.

The sight of the alarming bruises elicited a narrowing of Gerard's eyes and a flicker of anger across his face.

His body tensed, and his countenance darkened with fury.

He glanced at Jerrold, and then turned and made his way to the hospital director. "Ensure he receives the best care."

“Absolutely, Mr. Harris."

As Gerard made his way to the door, he instructed, "Once the surgery's done, inform me immediately.”

"Will do, sir."

With that, he exited the ward.

In the corridor, Gerard dialed a number, his voice frigid. "Break one of her hands, but keep her breathing. Send her to the island!"

The island represented the epitome of terror, a place where survival meant enduring a year of unimaginable torment.

The voice on the other end agreed.

Gerard hung up and descended the stairs.

His phone buzzed again.

"Gerard, how are Lilah and Jerrold? Are they awake yet?" Effie's voice was fraught with worry.

When she learned of Lilah and Jerrold's hospitalization, Effie's anxiety intensified, compounded by her deepening sense of guilt.

If she had not taken Jerrold to the mall, he wouldn't have fallen into Helga's clutches. Her future sister-in-law wouldn't be lying injured.

It was all her fault.

Gerard's tone remained flat. "They're still unconscious. You should rest."

"I'm getting dressed to come over and help." Effie hurriedly slipped on her clothes as she spoke.