Chapter 83 A Man's Deep Affection is All Lies
Sloane's POV
Under the cold lights of the morgue, I put on sterile gloves and bent down to carefully examine the deceased's body.
When my fingertips touched a barely noticeable old bruise on his abdomen, my movements suddenly froze.
I looked up at Lila and Jessie, who were so nervous they were holding their breath, then glanced at the anxious family members and hospital administrators waiting outside. I already knew the answer.
This man's vital signs had been extremely weak even before he was brought to the hospital. His internal organs showed multiple old injuries that had caused chronic bleeding.
Lila's surgery was just the last straw that broke the camel's back, but definitely not the root cause of death.
I raised my eyes and calmly swept my gaze across everyone present, finally landing on the deputy director's face. "I need to review the patient's ward surveillance footage from the twenty-four hours before surgery, immediately."
The deputy director was startled by my look, then frowned. But seeing the detailed medical records in my hand and the unquestionable certainty on my face, he eventually nodded and signaled to his assistant.
The surveillance footage was quickly brought over. In front of all the family members, reporters, and hospital officials, I froze the screen at one hour before the surgery began. In the footage, the middle-aged man who had been crying the loudest—the deceased's son—was sneaking around with a thermos, taking advantage of the nurse's inattention to feed several large spoonfuls of thick soup to the old man lying in the hospital bed.
"What is this?" I pointed at the screen. My voice wasn't loud, but it struck everyone's heart like a heavy hammer.
The grief on the man's face instantly froze, and his eyes began to dart around. "It's just... just some soup from home. My dad wanted to drink it..."
"Eight hours of fasting before surgery is an iron rule that every patient's family is repeatedly told." My voice turned cold. "The high-protein, high-fat food you fed him can easily cause aspiration and reflux under general anesthesia, leading to acute respiratory distress syndrome. That was the final straw that killed the patient!"
The truth was out. The reporters' cameras immediately turned toward those guilty family members.
"You're lying! You doctors killed my dad!" The man still tried to make trouble, attempting to get away with it through tantrums.
I let out a cold laugh, put away all my patience, and pulled out my phone directly. "Fine. Since you insist this was medical malpractice, I'll call the police right now. Deliberately feeding a critically ill patient before surgery, causing surgical failure and death—this already constitutes negligent homicide. While we're at it, we can also investigate whether that huge accidental death insurance policy you bought for the old man is about to come in handy."
The words "accidental death insurance" hit hard, completely exposing their true intentions.
Several people turned pale and looked at each other, unable to say another word.
The man finally got scared. His legs went weak and he almost knelt down, his previous arrogance completely gone.
The medical dispute farce ended hastily. The crowd dispersed, and the corridor outside the morgue finally returned to quiet.
Lila's tense nerves suddenly relaxed. She couldn't hold on anymore and threw her arms around me, burying her face in my shoulder and sobbing. "Sloane... thank god you were here... I really thought I was finished..."
I gently patted her trembling back, softly comforting her. "It's okay now. It's all over."
The deputy director came over, his face full of relief and undisguised appreciation for me. "Dr. Sloane, we really have you to thank today for saving the hospital from huge losses and protecting our reputation." He paused, as if thinking of something, and said enthusiastically, "By the way, haven't you been doing rehabilitation for your hand injury? I know an internationally renowned nerve repair specialist who happens to be in the country right now. Should I introduce you?"
This was undoubtedly a huge surprise for me. I quickly thanked him. "That would be wonderful, Director."
When I left the hospital, the sunset was glowing.
As soon as I got in my car, I received a call from an unknown number. The caller identified himself as a photographer.
"Hello, Sloane. The photos you and your husband had taken have been retouched and, according to your husband's instructions, delivered to Montclair Estate."
Photos? Only then did I remember that after that night of fireworks, Jared had somehow hired a photography team and insisted on dragging me to take a set of photos in the estate's rose garden.
When I got home, I indeed saw a beautifully packaged photo album in the entryway.
I couldn't wait to open it. In the photos, we were surrounded by blooming roses. He wore a sharp suit, his eyes showing a gentle smile I'd never seen before, while I leaned against him, lips curved up, happiness written all over my face.
So I could smile this happily too.
My heart softened. I picked up my phone and took a picture of one of the photos, then sent it to him with a message: [My husband is so handsome.]
He replied almost instantly—not with words, but with a phone call. His lowered voice was full of laughter. "Wait for me at the office. I'll take you on a date after the meeting."
"Okay." I hung up, unable to suppress the smile on my lips.
After carefully getting ready, full of sweet anticipation, I drove to Jared's company.
I was already imagining where he would take me—a romantic candlelit dinner, or maybe stargazing on a deserted mountaintop.
But all my beautiful fantasies shattered when I saw the scene outside the company entrance.
Jared was rushing out of the building, nervously carrying someone in his arms. The person wore a garishly red dress, her long hair disheveled, her face pale as she nestled in his embrace. It was none other than Keira.
He held her with an expression of panic and anxiety I'd never seen before, carefully placing her in the passenger seat with unusual gentleness.
My heart felt like it had been thrown into an ice cellar, frozen through and through, aching terribly.
The man who just days ago had sworn "I'll be there for you no matter what" was now in such a panic over another woman.
What a fool I was.
I sat in my car watching them, feeling nothing but irony.
So a man's so-called devotion and promises had such a short shelf life. I had actually let myself fall for him over those few small kindnesses, forgetting all the hurt I'd suffered before.
Watching his car about to speed away, I almost instinctively floored the gas pedal and followed.
I didn't know what I wanted to see—maybe I just wanted to witness firsthand how ridiculous this self-deceiving dream could be.
However, that black Bentley didn't head toward any hotel or private apartment. Instead, it sped all the way until finally screeching to a stop in front of the emergency department of the city center hospital.
Jared rushed into the emergency building carrying Keira, his anxious figure particularly glaring under the hospital's harsh white lights.
I stopped my car and stared blankly at the bright red characters spelling "Emergency," the sharp pain and sense of betrayal in my heart suddenly replaced by a more complex emotion.
He had brought her to the hospital.
This realization made my heart, which had sunk to the bottom, feel slightly better, but also left me more confused.