A hospital in Aethel.
Josephine Grant had already undergone a round of treatment and was fast asleep. By her bedside, Leo Graham and Warren Grant kept watch, their expressions a study in contrasts.
Leo Graham looked rather grave, his brow deeply furrowed. His gaze was unsteady, and if one looked closely, they would see his hands were trembling slightly.
Warren Grant, on the other hand, was comparatively composed. He only frowned slightly, his demeanor still fairly relaxed.
After a long silence, Leo Graham finally couldn't take it anymore. "Dad," he asked, "are you sure the police won't trace this back to you?"
He had just heard the police on the phone. Their tone had seemed hostile, and their questions had been sharp, but Warren Grant had simply brushed them off with a breezy "she fell."
'Will it really be okay?'
He was very worried.
