My Mother-in-law's Car Accident

My phone vibrated in the palm of my hand as I was cross-checking reports on the computer screen. A local news alert popped up in the bottom right corner of the screen, the headline piercing my eyes with pain. "A serious accident on the Suburban Highway—an elderly woman repeatedly run over by a sports car, her life hanging by a thread." My hand holding the mouse suddenly trembled violently, the cursor jittering wildly across the screen. Mother-in-law was supposed to come into the city today to celebrate her sixtieth birthday, taking the Suburban Highway. I almost immediately grabbed my phone, fingers trembling as I dialed Oscar River's number. "Beep... beep... beep..." The busy signal rang persistently in my ear, like a dull knife repeatedly slicing through my nerves. I hung up the telephone and called again, only to be met once more by the familiar busy signal. My heart felt as though it were being tightly clenched by an invisible hand, making even breathing a struggle. I grabbed the coat thrown over the back of the chair and rushed out of the office, forgetting to turn off the computer. On the taxi ride to the city's First People's Hospital, I kept calling Oscar River, but the only response was the cold busy signal. The taxi driver saw my pale face and couldn't help but ask, "Miss, are you alright? Is something wrong with your family?" I parted my lips, but no sound came out; all I could do was shake my head forcefully. My mind was flooded with the tender smile of my mother-in-law. Just yesterday, over the telephone, she had said she would bring me some fresh vegetables and homemade eggs from her garden. The more I thought about it, the more my heart raced, tears falling uncontrollably down my cheeks. At last, I reached the hospital and rushed straight to the emergency room. In the corridor outside the emergency room, I spotted police officers in uniform. I lunged forward and gripped an officer's arm, my voice choked with sobs: "Officer, regarding the accident just now on the Suburban Highway, was the injured person an elderly woman around sixty years old?" The officer glanced at me and nodded, "Yes, the injured has been admitted to the ICU. Are you a relative?" "I am her daughter-in-law. My name is Madeline Jones." I said hurriedly. "My husband, Oscar River—have you been able to reach him? I've been calling him nonstop with no answer." "We've also tried to contact him, but his line is constantly busy." The officer said helplessly. "But don't worry, the driver who fled the scene has already been caught and is now in the Mediation Room. If it's convenient for you, you can go there to cooperate with the record-taking." I nodded, then followed the police officer toward the Mediation Room. At the doorway of the Mediation Room, I drew a deep breath and pushed the door open. The next moment, I stood frozen, as if under a paralysis spell, unable to move. Inside the Mediation Room, Oscar River sat in a chair, beside him a woman dressed in an elegant suit. I recognized her—she was Oscar River's female superior, Blair Sue. On Blair Sue's wrist, a pair of handcuffs glinted. Oscar River saw me, a flicker of panic flashing in his eyes; he stood and began to approach me. I looked at him, my heart felt as if it had been ruthlessly struck, aching so fiercely I could barely stand. It turned out he wasn't unreachable; he had been with the at-fault driver all along.