Chapter 3 First Aid

The gallery was silent for a moment, then it was like a dam burst, and exclamations erupted from all directions.

"The kid's bleeding!"

"Move aside, quick!"

The security guards hadn't even reacted yet, and the crowd had already blocked half the staircase.

Some people held their phones high to record the scene, others stepped back, covering their mouths, while most just stood there, bewildered.

The air felt thick and chaotic.

Evelyn pivoted on her heel, her steps abruptly reversing.

She didn't look at Arthur or Seraphina.

Instead, she swiftly lifted her skirt and crouched down beside John.

"Don't move," she said calmly. "Give me your arm."

John had hit the edge of the stairs, and a cut on the outside of his elbow was bleeding steadily, dripping down his arm.

He was terrified, his eyes red, lips trembling, managing only to say, "I-I'm bleeding..."

Evelyn gently turned his head away from the wound. "Breath with me—one, two, inhale, exhale."

She looked up at her assistant. "Where's the first aid kit?"

"At the front desk!" someone replied.

"Get it, now!" She gestured to a nearby staff member while using her other hand to pull off her scarf, folding it into a pad and pressing it near the wound.

She then pointed to the nearest security guard.

"Help me keep people back, give us some space, don't crowd him, he needs air, don't scare him."

The crowd seemed to be pushed back by an invisible force, creating a clear space around them.

Evelyn expertly lifted John's forearm, keeping the injured hand elevated above his heart. "Hold it up, don't bend it."

"Do you need a tourniquet?" someone asked urgently.

"No, it's fine for now," she said, assessing the depth of the wound with a steady voice. "Just keep applying pressure."

The first aid kit was brought back, the plastic latch clicking open to reveal gauze, tape, saline, and iodine.

Evelyn replaced her scarf with sterile gauze, instructing as she worked. "Rinse the surface blood with saline, clean around the wound with iodine, but don't pour it into the cut—yes, like that. Fold the gauze thickly and press it down."

She held John's hand, indicating he should keep pressing the gauze, then turned to the crowd. "Whose hands are clean? Help me time this, keep the pressure for at least three minutes."

A staff member handed over a watch. She glanced at it. "Start timing."

James crouched nearby, his face pale with fear, wanting to help but too scared to touch.

The word "Mommy" was stuck in his throat.

He held back, tears welling up and finally falling, splashing onto the stone floor.

Evelyn turned her face slightly, deliberately ignoring the tightness in her chest, then spoke to James. "Don't cry, hold his shoulder, keep him steady."

She paused, her tone softening to reassure him. "Don't be afraid, he'll be fine."

"911 is on the way!" someone from the front desk shouted.

"Tell them to prepare gelatin sponges and oxidized cellulose for hemostasis. If they don't have it, the hospital will handle it," she said quickly, as if she had rehearsed it many times. "Tell them the child has a bleeding disorder..."

"What bleeding disorder?" The people around looked at each other, not understanding what Evelyn meant.

Her fingers tightened slightly, pressing the gauze firmly. "The bleeding rate and appearance aren't like a normal scrape. Just prepare as I said." She glanced at those filming, frowning. "Stop recording, these are children, please protect their privacy."

The security guards finally snapped into action, apologizing as they dispersed the crowd.

Arthur clenched his fists, his expression unreadable.

Not many people knew about John's bleeding disorder. Even Sarah couldn't have known so precisely just by observing.

Seraphina was about to say something to Arthur, but was gently held back.

"Thirty seconds left," the timer announced.

The child's breathing steadied under Evelyn's guidance, his trembling lessening.

Evelyn adjusted his shoulder support, letting him lean against her knee. "Good, just like that, breathe."

"Ma'am, the gauze is soaking through," a staff member reminded.

"Layer it, don't remove the old one, just press the new one on top."

She demonstrated her movements, swift and steady.

In a brief moment, she swallowed hard, pushing down the rising emotion.

"One more minute," she said, seeing John's calming expression, her tone incredibly gentle. "Don't move, it'll be over soon."

Evelyn took new gauze from the staff, layering and pressing it seamlessly.

"Sarah, sorry to interrupt," a logistics staff member approached her, speaking quietly. "The two kids you were with are looking for you backstage. Your assistant said they've been waiting for ten minutes and just asked again."

Evelyn nodded, not looking up, and only said, "Tell them to stay backstage, I'll be there soon."

She turned to the person who had called 911. "Did you ask if they have a stretcher ready?"

"Yes, it's ready, they're on their way."

Moments later, the paramedics arrived with a stretcher.

The crowd immediately parted to make way.

James, eyes red and wet, clung to John's shirt, refusing to let go.

"Relax," Evelyn said, her voice softer than before, pressing his shoulder gently. "Your brother is going to the hospital; he'll be fine soon. You can go with him, okay?"

James nodded, tears streaming down his face.

As the stretcher was carried away, John struggled to look back, his voice choked as he called out, "Mommy!"

The sound was heart-wrenching.

The room fell silent again, all eyes on Evelyn.

Her fingers tightened, almost stepping forward to follow.

But the next second, she stopped herself, standing straight, lips pressed tight, sighing. "I'm not his mother. He must have been confused during the emergency."

Her words erected a cold, hard wall between her and the child.

The stretcher quickly disappeared down the hallway. The crowd's murmurs grew louder again.

"Sarah's really professional."

"Why did the kid call her Mommy? What's their relationship?"

Evelyn simply took a wet wipe, cleaning the blood from her hands, her expression calm, as if nothing had affected her.

A staff member approached quickly, reminding her, "Sarah, we need to adjust the exhibition schedule. Please prepare."

"Okay."

She nodded, saying nothing more, and turned to head backstage.

Arthur stood in the crowd, his eyes fixed on her retreating figure.

Those hands, he knew them too well.

If it wasn't Evelyn, he couldn't think of anyone else who could be so similar.

He slowly looked away, giving a low order to his assistant.

"Investigate Sarah."

"Mr. Collins, what should we look into?"

"Everything," he said coldly, his tone dark and brooding. "Background, team, all movements in the past six years."

He paused, his eyes growing darker. "And find out about those kids, the logistics mentioned."

The assistant's heart skipped a beat, nodding immediately. "Understood."