Chapter 479:
Realizing where her thoughts had gone, she quickly pulled herself together, pausing to glance at the stage before lowering her gaze to her phone, using the screen as a distraction to steady her thoughts.
The concert took place at the Nova Sports Pavilion in Crolens, a flower-shaped stadium surrounded by towering commercial buildings. Amid those polished structures, her eyes caught sight of a café—its quiet, almost misplaced presence standing out in the busy district.
The café’s design stood out, sleek and modern, nestled beside an enormous artificial lake where willow trees danced softly with the breeze. The view alone made it worth a visit.
Rylie didn’t hesitate. With time to spare, she decided to stop by for a cup of coffee. But before she could make a move, the atmosphere shifted.
A high-pitched microphone screech sliced through the air, jolting the audience and silencing casual chatter. Heads turned toward the stage.
The boy band continued performing, their choreography sharp and perfectly timed, until something went wrong. Vincent, one of the lead members, took a sip from a cup sitting near the edge of the stage. Moments later, he staggered, clutching his throat, then collapsed.
Chaos erupted, and the fans began screaming Vincent’s name, their frantic cries pounding against Rylie’s ears.
Seated at the front of the VIP area, Rylie was positioned near the collapsed performer, while the fans tried to push past the barriers in an effort to reach him. Since Vincent was someone Deandre knew, and there was a human life on the line, Rylie didn’t hesitate to act. She stood, crossed the distance before the staff could react, and climbed onto the stage with ease.
“Step away from him!”
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The other band members hurried over to block her, anxiety written across their faces.
The staff moved to restrain her as well, but Rylie swiftly pulled out her premium VIP pass and spoke with steady authority. “I’m a doctor. If you want him to stay in pain, go ahead and keep stopping me.”
No one dared take responsibility at such a critical moment, especially with her VIP pass, which was embossed with gold. Such a pass could only be held by those invited by the organizers.
Uncertain about who she was, the staff refrained from stopping her carelessly. Instead, they hurried to bring over black curtains and umbrellas, concealing the stage from public view.
“Do you really know how to help him?” one of the members asked, his voice filled with concern for Vincent’s safety.
Rylie didn’t answer. She gently laid Vincent down, as he had been curled up and clearly in distress, his breathing shallow and labored.
His complexion had turned ashen, cold sweat clung to his skin, and both hands clutched his throat tightly. The panic in his eyes revealed nothing but fear and helplessness.
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.
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