CHAPTER 196
CHAPTER 196
The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic and fear.
Vincent sat rigidly in one of the plastic chairs outside the operating theater, his hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles had gone pale. Amelia sat beside him, her shoulders drawn inward, her eyes fixed on the closed doors as if staring hard enough might force them to open. Matteo stood a few steps away, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, his jaw locked in a way that suggested he was holding himself together by sheer will.
No one spoke.
The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. The kind of silence that formed when words felt either useless or dangerous. Each of them was trapped in their own thoughts, circling the same terrible question from different angles.
Will she live?
Amelia folded her hands in her lap and bowed her head slightly. Her lips moved without sound.
She wasn’t sure when she started praying.
Viviana had tried to destroy her life. She had schemed, lied, manipulated, and stood beside a man who had nearly taken everything from her. And yet, as Amelia sat there listening to the distant hum of machines and the faint echo of hurried footsteps beyond the doors, she realized something unsettlingly simple.
Viviana did not deserve to die.
Not like this. Not bleeding on an operating table because of choices made by men who believed power mattered more than people.
Amelia swallowed hard, her eyes burning. She thought of how threatened Viviana must have felt, watching her rise so quickly, watching their father turn his attention toward the daughter he had lost. She didn’t excuse the cruelty, but she understood the fear behind it.
Please, she prayed silently. Let her live.
Vincent’s thoughts were darker.
He stared at the floor, replaying the image of Viviana collapsing over and over again in his mind. No matter how angry he had been. No matter how betrayed he felt. She was still his child. Still the little girl who used to wait up for him with a book in her hands, insisting she wasn’t tired.
He pressed his lips together, fighting the tightness in his throat.
Matteo paced once, then stopped, forcing himself to stay still. He hated waiting. He hated not doing anything. His mind ran through every possible outcome, every consequence, every version of how this night could end. And in every version, Amelia was standing right in the middle of it.
The doors to the operating theater suddenly swung open.
All three of them stood at the same time.
A nurse stepped out, her expression tight but focused. She pulled her mask down slightly as she approached them.
“Are you family?” she asked.
“Yes,” Vincent said immediately, his voice hoarse. “She’s my daughter.”
The nurse nodded. “She’s lost a significant amount of blood. We’re doing everything we can, but there’s a complication. We need to transfuse her urgently.”
Vincent’s breath caught. “Use mine,” he said immediately. “I’m her father.”
Amelia stepped forward at the same time. “Or mine,” she added. “We’re family.”
The nurse hesitated, her expression shifting. “Normally, that would be our first step. In most cases, a close biological relative is the best option.”
She glanced down at her chart. “But Viviana’s blood type is extremely rare. RH – null. We were hoping one of you might be compatible.”
Vincent’s shoulders sagged slightly. “She’s… adopted,” he said quietly. “We don’t share blood.”
The words landed softly but heavily.
For a moment, the corridor felt unbearably still.
Then Matteo stepped forward.
“RH- null?” he said slowly. “That’s my blood type.”
All three of them turned to look at him.
The nurse blinked in surprise. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Matteo replied without hesitation. “I’ve known since I was young. It’s rare, but that’s what I carry.”
Amelia stared at him, stunned. “You’re serious?”
He nodded. “If it helps her, I’ll donate.”
Amelia felt her heart drop.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The nurse’s expression shifted instantly into urgency. “Then we need to test you immediately. If you’re a match, we can proceed.”
“Do it,” Matteo said. “Now.”
Amelia grabbed his hand before he could follow the nurse. Her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”
Vincent nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.
Matteo squeezed Amelia’s hand once, firmly. “She’s going to be okay,” he said, more promise than certainty.
Then he turned and followed the nurse down the corridor at a brisk pace.
Time stretched painfully after that.
Minutes blurred into something shapeless and slow. Amelia sat back down, her hands trembling now that there was nothing left to do but wait. Vincent remained standing, unable to sit, his eyes never leaving the doors.
Eventually, another nurse emerged.
“She’s receiving the transfusion now,” she said. “It’s helping. We can’t say she’s completely safe yet, but she’s no longer crashing.”
Amelia let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“She’s out of immediate danger?” Vincent asked.
“There’s a strong chance she’ll make it,” the nurse replied. “The surgery is progressing well. The next few hours will be critical, but she’s responding.”
Tears spilled down Amelia’s cheeks, quiet and relieved.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
The nurse nodded once and disappeared back through the doors.
They waited again.
The hospital seemed to hold its breath with them.
Finally, the doors opened once more.
A surgeon stepped out, still wearing his scrubs, his mask pulled down around his neck. His expression was serious, unreadable as he walked toward them.
All three of them rose at once.
The doctor stopped in front of them, his face carried an unreadable explanation.