Chapter 125
Chapter 125
Half an hour later.
Hopewell Hospital, the Mitchell Group's premier private medical facility.
The entire VIP floor had been cleared. Dozens of bodyguards in black stood at every passage. Not even a fly could get through.
Camilla had finished a battery of tests and now rested on a leather sofa in the recovery room, an IV drip in her arm.
Caspian stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, phone to his ear.
Flynn's voice came through the line.
"Mr. Mitchell, Serena's been arrested. She hired an unlicensed car to flee Shadow City but got stopped at the highway toll station."
"She seems mentally unstable. Kept screaming in the car that someone was out to get her."
"Turn all evidence over to the police." Caspian's voice was barely above a whisper, cold enough to freeze bone. "Make sure she never sees daylight again."
He ended the call and turned toward the sofa.
Camilla sat with her eyes closed, breathing shallow.
No color in her pale face. She looked fragile as porcelain.
He approached silently and tucked the blanket around her with careful hands.
Then he stepped out to consult with the medical team.
Shortly after the door closed behind him, it opened again.
Dr. Stuart, Hopewell Hospital's attending physician, hurried inside.
He clutched a manila envelope, his white coat buttoned wrong in his haste.
"Ms. Lavien." His voice was urgent, his breathing rapid.
Camilla opened her eyes and sat up.
Dr. Stuart rushed over and pulled several documents from the envelope, spreading them across the coffee table.
His hands trembled, but his face shone with barely contained excitement. "Ms. Lavien, maybe your prayers at the church yesterday were actually heard."
Camilla froze.
Dr. Stuart pointed to one of the reports. "Last night, a top oncology team from Mayo Clinic sent this classified file."
"For your type of advanced gastric cancer, a cutting-edge overseas lab just published results on a new targeted therapy."
"The clinical trial phase has shown breakthrough progress!"
A ringing filled Camilla's ears.
Her heart, which had felt dead as ash, began pounding wildly against her ribs.
She stared at the incomprehensible data, her eyes instantly flooding with heat.
"Dr. Stuart, are you saying..." Her voice came out raw and broken. "I can be cured? I can live?"
Dr. Stuart looked at her hope-filled face. His excitement slowly dimmed.
He sighed heavily. "Ms. Lavien, I need to explain the brutal reality."
He flipped to the last page. "This new therapy could significantly extend your life, possibly even cure you completely. But the side effects are horrific."
The color drained from Camilla's face.
"The treatment process essentially breaks down and rebuilds every cell in your body. The pain is equivalent to having your bones stripped and tendons torn. Many clinical patients don't survive the first three sessions. They die from the agony."
The room fell silent except for the steady drip of the IV.
Dr. Stuart continued, each word like a dull blade scraping her nerves.
"And if your body rejects the targeted medication..."
"The six months you have left could shrink to two or three months. Maybe less."
"Current clinical survival rate is only thirty percent."
Thirty percent.
This wasn't treatment.
This was gambling with her life.
Dr. Stuart pulled a thick consent form from his pocket and slid it across the table.
"Ms. Lavien, this is a life-or-death wager."
"Unbearable suffering versus a thirty percent chance at survival. Will you accept it?"
Camilla stared down at the black text on white paper.
Her fingers shook violently.
She'd always been afraid of pain.
Since childhood, even injections made her cry.
Theodric never cared if she was scared. He just called her dramatic.
And she was terrified of death.
Terrified of dying on some antiseptic operating table without even time to say goodbye to the world.
If she didn't treat it, she'd at least have six peaceful months.
She could establish Second Decade Studio.
Spend more time with Holden.
Look at Caspian a little longer.
But if she went through with this, she might not even survive winter.
The pen sat within reach.
But it felt impossibly heavy. She couldn't make herself pick it up.
Despair and terror crashed over her like waves, drowning her.
Then the door cracked open.
A small, fluffy head peeked inside.
Holden wore a bright yellow down jacket and clutched a good-luck charm as he pattered into the room.
"Camilla!"
He rushed to the sofa, carefully avoiding her IV hand.
Camilla hastily wiped the tears from her eyes and forced a smile. "Holden, what are you doing here?"
Holden stretched out his chubby little hand and pressed the charm into her cold palm.
"Daddy and I got this at the church this morning."
He looked up at her, his big eyes serious and determined.
"I made God pinky-promise. He said you'll live to be a hundred and stay with me forever and ever."
The charm still carried the warmth of the child's body.
Heat traveled through her palm and into her frozen heart.
She looked at Holden's innocent face.
Images flashed through her mind—Caspian on the church steps, shielding her from the acid attack with his own body.
His silhouette as he canceled billion-dollar meetings to climb nine hundred ninety-nine steps beside her.
That man had used every ounce of his power and tenderness to protect her.
This child depended on her with absolute trust. She was his whole world.
How could she bear to die?
She still had reclaimed dreams to fulfill.
Someone she wanted to love deeply.
Even if there was only a thirty percent chance.
Even if she had to endure bone-breaking agony.
She would fight.
The fear and hesitation vanished from Camilla's eyes.
In their place burned unprecedented determination.
She grabbed the pen.
Without hesitation.
On the final page of the consent form, she signed her name with force.
The ink pressed through the paper.
Dr. Stuart looked at the signature, his eyes reddening. He carefully collected the documents. "Ms. Lavien, I'll contact the specialist team immediately to prepare the first round of medication."
He left.
The room grew quiet again.
Camilla pulled Holden into her arms, resting her chin on top of his head. Silent tears fell into his collar.
'Holden, I will survive.'
Urgent footsteps echoed in the hallway.
The door flew open.
Caspian strode in, the air pressure around him dangerously low.
He held freshly printed lab results, veins bulging on the back of his hand.
He stared at Camilla on the sofa, his chest heaving.
"Camilla."
His voice sounded like he'd swallowed gravel, filled with barely suppressed fury and terror.
He crossed to the coffee table and snatched up a copy of the consent form that hadn't been cleared away yet.
After reading it, rage flooded his features.
"Who gave you permission to sign this?"
The paper crumpled in his fist.
Caspian leaned down, hands braced on either side of the sofa, trapping her in his shadow.
"Thirty percent survival rate? You could die on the operating table?"
"You're gambling with your life and you didn't think to ask me?"