“Your hand…” Clara looked at Wilson’s right hand. His bandaged hand had been clean before he entered the private room, but now, it was seeping with blood.

Wilson followed her gaze and looked down at his hand. “It’s fine. I think the wound reopened,” he said nonchalantly, almost as if it was merely a small matter.

Clara thought of the punch that Wilson had thrown at Martin, which made Martin fall to the ground. Wilson’s wound must have opened at that moment.

The blood stain on his bandage was getting darker and expanding, meaning that the opened gap of his wound had to be big.

“Get in the car,” Clara ordered Wilson.

“What?” Wilson was stunned.

“Get in the car. Let’s go to the hospital first. Your wound needs a dressing.”

Seeing that he was still frozen in place, Clara grabbed his wrist and led him to the car parked in front of them. Then, she instructed the driver, “We’re going to the hospital.”

The driver hesitated and looked at Wilson, who didn’t say anything, and only