The ID Card.

As the fashion show came to a close, the designs were showcased in greater detail in an adjacent hall. Abigail excused herself and slipped away to the washroom. While washing her hands, her gaze fell upon a woman in her mid-40s, struggling to adjust her skirt, which had a slight tear along the edge.

Abigail didn't rush to assist her immediately. Instead, she finished washing her hands, then turned to the woman and offered help. "May I assist you with your skirt?" she asked.

The woman paused, seemingly taken aback by Abigail's offer. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded graciously and replied, "Sure."

Abigail rummaged through her bag and produced a set of stylish hair clips. She sat down beside the woman and carefully examined the torn edge of the skirt. With a few quick adjustments, she used the clips to temporarily secure the fabric in place.

Next, Abigail pulled out a small pouch containing a thread and needle. The woman's eyes widened in amazement as Abigail began to expertly mend the tear. The woman stood by, frozen in astonishment, watching as Abigail produced an entire sewing kit from her bag, as if by magic.

With the tear expertly mended, Abigail removed the hair clips one by one, revealing a delicate, hand-stitched flower motif that beautifully concealed the damaged area. The woman's eyes widened in delight as she took in the intricate design, which added a touch of whimsy to her elegant skirt.

"Here you go," Abigail said, handing the woman her refurbished skirt with a warm smile. The woman's gaze lingered on the vibrant flowers, and she looked up at Abigail with genuine gratitude. "Thank you, young lady," she said, her voice filled with appreciation.

"Welcome," Abigail replied with a gracious smile, before turning to leave the washroom, her kindness and expertise leaving a lasting impression on the woman.

As Abigail stepped out of the washroom, her phone rang, shrill in the evening air. She answered, and her expression changed from serenity to shock. "What? Julian's in the hospital?" she exclaimed, her voice trembling.

Without hesitation, Abigail rushed out of the hotel, forgetting that Harper was waiting for her in the hall. She sprinted across the road, desperate to hail a cab. Her eyes scanned the crowded street, and then, she spotted Caleb approaching his car.

"MD!" Abigail called out, dashing towards Caleb. "Please, drive me to City Hospital. My brother's been hurt!" Without waiting for Caleb's response or permission, Abigail swiftly opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat.

Caleb's voice trailed behind her, "Hey!" his tone laced with confusion, but Abigail was already settled into his car, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, willing Caleb to drive faster.

Caleb slid into the driver's seat, his eyes meeting Abigail's frantic gaze in the rearview mirror. He started the engine, and Abigail's restless energy was palpable. "Please, drive faster," she urged, her voice laced with worry.

Caleb's instincts told him to question her, but something about Abigail's distress kept him silent. Instead, he accelerated, weaving through the evening traffic with ease.

As they arrived at the hospital, Abigail flung open the door and rushed out, disappearing into the sliding glass doors. Caleb was about to pull away, but something gave him pause. He furrowed his brows, a flicker of curiosity sparking within him. Without thinking, he turned off the engine, climbed out of the car, and followed Abigail into the hospital.

Inside the hospital, Abigail rushed into the waiting area outside the operating room, where she found Vience, her brother's friend, pacing anxiously. "What happened?" Abigail asked, her voice trembling.

Vience's expression was grim. "Julian was attacked by someone. He was found by a group of boys returning from a football game. They called the ambulance, and he was rushed here."

Abigail's eyes welled up with tears as she asked, "What did the doctor say?" Vience's voice was soft, trying to break the news gently. "Julian needs a surgical procedure to realign and stabilise his fractured arm."

Abigail felt her legs buckle beneath her, but before she could collapse, a hand grasped hers, steadying her. Caleb's firm grip guided her to a nearby chair, helping her sit down.

Vience glanced at Caleb, then turned to Abigail, his expression reassuring. "Your brother will be fine," he said gently. "Try not to worry too much."

Abigail's voice trembled as she asked, her eyes brimming with tears, "Do you have any idea who attacked Julian?"

As the hospital staff emerged from the operating theater, Abigail rushed forward, her eyes fixed anxiously on the doctor. "Is my brother alright?" she asked, her voice trembling.

The doctor's expression was calm and reassuring. "For now, he's stable," he said gently. "The surgery was successful, and we're monitoring his condition closely. Let's get him settled in the recovery room, and then we'll know more."

Tears streamed down Abigail's face as she gazed at her brother, who lay motionless in the special care room. Vience appeared beside her, his expression somber. "I need to show you something," he said quietly, handing her an ID card.

"This was found near where your brother was attacked," Vience explained. "I think it might be related to the attacker. Should we report it to the police?"

Abigail stood frozen, her eyes fixed on the card. Caleb gently took it from her hand, concern etched on his face. Vience, noticing Abigail's shocked state, nodded sympathetically. "Okay, call me if you need my help with the police."

With a final goodbye, Vience departed, giving Abigail space. As soon as he left, Abigail's eyes locked onto the ID card, now in Caleb's hand. Her face contorted in anguish as she saw the name: Johnson. Her hand instinctively clenched into a fist.

With a fierce determination, Abigail snatched the card from Caleb's hand and took a step forward. Caleb followed closely, alarmed by her tense actions. "Hey, where are you going?" Caleb asked, but Abigail didn't respond, her eyes fixed on some unseen target as she continued forward.

Caleb sighed and called out to Abigail again, but she ignored him, her determination to confront Johnson driving her forward. With growing concern, Caleb grasped her arms, gently but firmly turning her to face him.

Abigail's face was flushed with anger, her eyes blazing with a fierce intensity. "Calm down, we'll report this to the police first," Caleb reasoned, trying to soothe her.

But Abigail shook him off, her voice rising. "Let go of me!" she demanded.

Caleb's expression turned stern. "Don't be so childish, Abigail," he chided. "We need to think this through, not act on impulse."

Abigail's voice trembled with rage and grief. "He's a jerk! He needs to die in my hands." She choked back a sob, her words pouring out in anguish. "How could he do this to my brother? He threatened Harper and now he's hurt Julian. And to think my brother's exams are just a month away. He had so much ahead of him..."