Chapter 72 The Hardest to Move
Lena looked between them, perplexed. ‘Cousin?’
Rhys ignored her question entirely. "What did you do to her?"
Theon held up his hands. "I temporarily weakened her so she wouldn't interrupt a private medical moment. She'll be fine in a few minutes."
He glanced at Lena. "Feisty one, isn't she? You have my condolences."
Lena shot him a fiery glare.
Rhys pulled her closer. “If you ever touch her again—”
At that moment, his phone rang. His frown deepened, but he answered immediately, seeing the caller ID.
Lena watched his expression shift. The anger drained away, replaced by something cold.
"What?" His voice sharpened. "When?"
She couldn't hear the other end clearly, but fragments reached her—unstable… heart failing…
Her blood ran cold.
Without waiting for the call to end, she lunged from Rhys’ arms, stumbling as Theon's pressure point still left her half-paralyzed.
“Lena!” Rhys shouted, bending forward to catch her.
She shook him off, ignoring his grip. Her legs felt weak, adrenaline and panic surging through her. She bolted down the private hallway, tears blurring her vision.
Theon’s frown deepened. “What’s wrong with her?” Theon asked, the teasing edge gone. He didn’t like the panic in her eyes.
Rhys ignored him and ran after Lena. But his phone rang on the way. He cursed as he took another direction to answer the call.
Theon stared at their retreating figures for a moment, then shook his head. He pulled out his phone and walked toward Evelyn's private ward.
—
On the other side of the hospital, Lena was falling apart.
She stood outside the ICU, watching doctors and nurses move in and out with urgent efficiency. Each time the doors swung open, she tried to see inside. Each time, she caught nothing.
"Please!" She grabbed the arm of a passing nurse. "Please, that's my father—can someone tell me what's happening?!”
Wait here.
As if she could do anything else.
She slumped against the wall, then slid down until she was sitting on the cold floor. Her legs wouldn't hold her anymore.
A doctor emerged. Lena scrambled up.
"How is he? Please—"
The doctor removed his mask, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. "We've stabilized him for now. But I need you to prepare yourself."
Lena's heart stopped.
"Your father's condition is critical. His heart is failing, and at this point, we're fighting to keep him alive."
The doctor paused, choosing his words carefully. "The best case scenario would be a heart transplant, but we don't have a donor available. We're working on an artificial support system, but his body is struggling to hold on."
Struggling to hold on.
The words echoed in her head.
"Is there nothing you can do?" Her voice cracked. "Nothing at all?"
The doctor shook his head slowly.
"One of our best cardiologists is out of the country. Even if he were here, this is a complex case. We have specialists inside, but..." He trailed off.
Lena grabbed his arm. "But what?"
"The truth is, if someone like Mr. Kensington were here, the odds would be very different. His expertise is unparalleled."
Lena perked up at that. “Th—that means he—he can be saved, right?” she stuttered hopefully.
The doctor shook his head.
“He's not here, and we work with what we have. Even if he were here, getting him to perform the surgery would be even more difficult than saving the patient.”
Lena's grip loosened as all her newfound hope came crashing down.
The doctor excused himself and disappeared back through the doors.
Lena stood there, frozen. Then her legs gave way completely.
She sank onto a nearby chair, her body shaking. The tears came—hard, ugly sobs that she couldn't stop. She pulled at her hair, rocking slightly, a sound escaping her throat that was barely human.
Rhys found her like that.
He crossed the distance in seconds, crouching in front of her. "Lena."
She didn't respond. Couldn't.
He pulled her into his arms, and she went willingly, clutching his shirt, her face pressed against his chest. She cried until she had nothing left.
"I'm here," he murmured. "He's going to be alright."
She whispered something against his chest.
He tilted her head up gently. "What?"
"Dad." Her voice broke. "I can't lose him, Rhys. I can't."
He held her tighter.
—
Rhys left her only when he had to.
He made calls. Pulled strings. Used every connection he had. Within an hour, he'd located the country's top cardiologist—in Switzerland. Within two hours, he'd arranged a private jet to bring him back.
He returned to Lena's side and told her everything.
"He'll be here by morning," he said quietly. "Just hold on until then."
She nodded, too exhausted to speak.
Hours passed.
The red light above the ICU doors stayed on.
Lena sat in the same chair, curled into herself, eyes fixed on those doors. Rhys stood behind her silently.
Then, finally, the light went out.
Lena was on her feet instantly, stumbling toward the doors as they swung open.
A doctor emerged—the same one from before. His face was grim.
"Your father is stable. For now." He held up a hand as Lena's face crumpled. "But his condition is still critical. We've done what we can, but without a transplant or a successful artificial support system..." He shook his head.
Lena's hand flew to her mouth.
The doctor continued. “We placed him on temporary mechanical support to reduce the strain on his heart. It’s buying us time. But without definitive surgery… I'm sorry.”
Before Lena could respond, an alarm blared from inside the ICU.
The doctor turned and ran back through the doors.
Lena's knees buckled. Rhys caught her quickly.
More doctors rushed past them, disappearing into the ICU.
The minutes stretched into agony.
Then a commotion was heard at the end of the hallway.
Lena looked up.
A tall familiar figure was approaching. Moving urgently. His light blonde hair catching the harsh hospital light.
He passed her without stopping, exchanging a quick word with the nurse at the door, and disappeared inside.
Lena blinked.
She turned to look at Rhys, still leaning against him for support.
"W—what is your cousin doing in there?" she asked, her voice shaky and confused.
Rhys looked equally perplexed. “I… I never thought he’d agree to come,” he admitted quietly. “So I didn’t bother involving him.”
Her brows knit together. “What are you saying? What’s going on?”
Rhys turned to her fully, his hands settling on her shoulders. A relieved expression spreading across his face.
"You can relax now." His voice was soft but sure. "We don't need the doctor flying in from Switzerland if he's the one going in.”
Lena stared at him.
“What? Are you sure?” Her voice trembled.
Rhys brushed a strand of hair away from her tear-stained face. “I’m sure.”
But Lena couldn’t relax. Not even a little. Her fingers twisted together as she lowered her head, silently praying.
Rhys turned his gaze back to the ICU doors, confusion slowly replacing his relief.
‘What does Theon want?’
‘He’s harder to move than a mountain.’
‘He doesn’t involve himself in cases that don’t benefit him.’
His jaw tightened.
‘And saving Lena’s father benefits him how?’