As soon as they arrived at the hospital entrance, they saw a nurse helping Irene out of the ward—covered in blood.

Her back, calves, and ankles were all slashed by something sharp. Blood stained her white T-shirt, and fragments of debris were still embedded in her leg. It was a gruesome sight.

Patrick, usually gentle and composed, turned pale. He strode forward, his voice sharp with urgency. “What happened? How did she end up like this?”

Chelsea’s brows furrowed tightly. “Get her to the emergency room, now.”

Inside the ward, the scene was a mess—shattered table lamps, broken porcelain bowls, fragments of a vase scattered everywhere. Some of the jagged...