"I’ll cover every medical expense she has from tonight. Whatever treatment she needs, however long it takes. When she wakes up, she can tell you herself what happened," he added. "That’s the best proof either of us is going to get."

Emma studied him silently for several long seconds before letting out a low sigh inwardly, her face was still stoic though...

She could tell, anyone with common sense can tell that his behavior didn’t match a guilty man.

Neither did the emergency call. Neither did the calm.

But she didn’t lower her weapon. But she didn’t fire either. She was still at alert.

"We wait for the police," she said firmly. "You do not move."

"I won’t," Stan replied.

Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself to the floor several feet away from Amelia and rested his open hands on his knees in plain sight.

The room settled into tense silence.

Six armed women.

One unconscious director.

And a young man sitting calmly in the middle of the chaos, waiting for the authorities to arrive and untangle a situation where, ironically, the truth sounded less believable than any lie.

Meanwhile, Stan thought of something and slowly moved.

The female guards immediately tightened their grips on their rifles the moment he shifted, the muzzles snapping toward his chest with cold, practiced precision.

"Don’t move!"

Stan slowly raised both hands, his expression calm despite the multiple weapons aimed directly at him. His eyes briefly flicked toward the unconscious Amelia lying nearby before returning to the guards.

"Relax," he said evenly. "I’m calling an ambulance."

Not a single rifle lowered.

The tension in the room remained suffocating, every guard waiting for the slightest wrong movement.

Yet at the same time, a wave of shame quietly spread among them.

Why hadn’t they thought of that first?

They had rushed in with guns and emotions, but not one of them had immediately called for medical assistance.

Compared to Stan’s composure, they suddenly felt inexperienced.

One of the guards stepped forward cautiously and said coldly, "Keep the phone where we can see it."

Stan gave a short nod and slowly reached into his pocket, careful enough not to trigger any nervous fingers on the rifles. He pulled out his phone and briefly held it up before dialing emergency services.

The ringing sounded absurdly loud within the suffocating silence.

The dispatcher answered almost immediately.

"Emergency services. What’s your location and situation?"

Stan glanced toward Amelia once more. Her breathing was shallow but steady.

"Female patient," he said calmly. "Unresponsive. Possible drugging combined with severe physical and emotional distress. She’s breathing, but she needs immediate medical attention."

Several guards exchanged uneasy looks as Stan continued speaking.

"Send an ambulance with a stretcher, oxygen, airway support equipment, and a full trauma kit. She may be entering a comatose state."

The dispatcher’s tone immediately became serious.

"Understood. Ambulance en route. Stay with the patient and monitor her breathing."

Stan ended the call and slowly lowered the phone.

For several long seconds, nobody spoke.

Then, faint sirens began echoing through the night outside.

The ambulance arrived within minutes.

The medical team rushed into the building carrying emergency bags and a stretcher, only to abruptly slow down after seeing the bizarre scene in front of them.

A young man sitting calmly on the floor.

A circle of armed female security personnel surrounding him with rifles aimed directly at his body.

And an unconscious woman lying nearby on the bed.

The paramedics froze briefly, trying to process the strange tableau before them.

What unsettled them wasn’t merely the armed standoff.

It was the fact that they recognized the young man immediately.

Isn’t that Stan Harrison? The student tycoon?

The thought flashed through more than one medic’s mind as they hurriedly pulled the stretcher fully into the room.

Could he actually be involved in a kidnapping?

It was a disturbingly natural conclusion to arrive at.

After all, the mysterious young man everyone had been discussing recently had suddenly become rich overnight, drove luxury supercars, and seemed to have risen out of nowhere.

Humans were creatures driven by speculation.

And under such circumstances, suspicion came very easily.

But one detail didn’t fit, and it quietly bothered the paramedics as they worked.

If Stan were truly the perpetrator, then the entire scene made no sense.

He wouldn’t be sitting there calmly surrounded by armed guards. The standoff wouldn’t even exist, the security team would have already restrained him.

And most importantly...

He had been the one to call the ambulance.

Not the armed women surrounding him.

None of it matched the behavior of someone guilty.

While the rest of the medical team unloaded equipment, the lead paramedic hurried over to Amelia and immediately knelt beside her to check her pulse and breathing.

Her expression changed instantly.

"Patient is unresponsive. Breathing is shallow. Possible comatose state, GCS approximately six."

The calm professionalism in her voice vanished, replaced by the clipped urgency of someone who had just recognized a genuinely critical emergency.

"Stretcher, oxygen, cardiac monitor, suction kit, and trauma bag, now!"

The entire medical team accelerated instantly.

"Move!" the lead paramedic ordered sharply. "Oxygen and stretcher first. I want the monitor, airway kit, and suction beside me immediately. Prep an IV line and notify the ER, unresponsive female patient, suspected overdose or drug-induced coma."

Stan felt a cold chill run through him as he watched.

He had known Amelia was in danger.

But he hadn’t fully understood how serious the situation actually was.

Her condition was far worse than he had initially assumed. Whatever those men had drugged her with had pushed her into a genuinely life-threatening state.

And with that realization came something darker.

The men hadn’t merely intended to assault her.

If he had arrived even slightly later...

Amelia might not have survived the night at all.

The thought landed heavily in Stan’s chest.

For the first time since entering the room, genuine anger flickered across his eyes.

Even the security personnel had gone visibly tense now, their earlier suspicion toward Stan temporarily pushed aside as they watched the paramedics work frantically to stabilize the woman they had been hired to protect.

Stan glanced toward them.