Chapter 269 The One Who Is Hurt Is Her, Not Me
Less than five minutes after the phone call ended, the wail of an ambulance siren could already be heard downstairs.
Passing vehicles pulled aside one after another, making way for a path to save a life.
The paramedics rushed up carrying a stretcher, accompanied by an emergency physician.
They followed Dylan, not daring to waste a single second as they hurried upstairs.
But when they actually entered the room, they were still startled. Looking at the man before them with blood all over his face, the doctor asked quietly,
"Mr. Spencer, how did you get injured? Are you feeling unwell anywhere?"
The blood on William's hands was half-congealed. He grabbed the doctor and pulled him to the bedside, leaving bloody handprints on the doctor's white coat.
"I am not the one who is injured. It is her, my wife."
The doctor looked at the patient on the bed. Before he could even examine her, what hit him first was the pungent smell of chemicals and medicine.
Even though he was a doctor who had seen many dead people, he was still startled when he saw that face covered with livor mortis.
He did not even need to examine her — he could tell just by looking that what lay on the bed was a corpse.
And the time of death had been at least two weeks ago.
The news of Isabella, the wife of business genius William, jumping from a building had already spread throughout the city.
And this body had even leapt down from the roof of their hospital.
Everyone at the hospital — whether doctors, nurses, or janitors — knew about this.
The doctor stood there in a daze, momentarily forgetting how to organize his words.
"Aren't you a doctor? Examine her, quickly!"
"What are you standing there for?"
William's tone had become agitated.
The doctor did not dare contradict him. He sat by the bed and placed his stethoscope against Isabella's neck.
No pulse. Both the rumors and his judgment were correct.
She was definitely dead, as dead as could be.
Unless there were gods in this world, there was no need to examine her.
The doctor withdrew his hand, suddenly finding his own actions absurd.
What was he doing? Checking the pulse of a corpse?
The doctor looked up at William, his expression troubled.
"Mr. Spencer, please do not get upset. Ms. Tudor..."
The doctor's words stuck in his throat, and he did not know how to continue.
Looking at William's ghostly pale face and mouth full of blood, he felt it was more terrifying than seeing a ghost.
He carefully chose his words before tentatively speaking.
"Mr. Spencer, forgive me for speaking frankly, but based on my medical knowledge, Ms. Tudor is beyond treatment."
"I think your health is more worthy of concern."
William raised his head, his gaunt cheek twitching.
"You have got it wrong. I do not need any treatment. I am perfectly fine."
"The one who needs to go to the hospital is my wife. The bones in her neck might be displaced, or even broken."
"As a doctor, do you not even understand this basic knowledge?"
William paused. He scratched his hair, suddenly thinking of something.
"Right, immediately, right now, send my wife to the hospital. First, give her a CT scan, then perform orthopedic surgery on her."
Not just the doctor — even the medical staff waiting on the side were stunned.
The doctor looked at Isabella's body, then tentatively asked again, his voice even weaker than before.
"May I ask, is this lady currently..."
William took a deep breath, suppressing the anger in his heart, then suddenly raised his voice and shouted,
"I know she is already dead. I called you here to check if her cervical spine is abnormal."
"Since you cannot tell, then let the machines check. Do a CT scan first. If the CT cannot detect it, use ultrasound. In any case, we need to make sure Isabella's body is intact."
The doctor looked at Isabella's corpse again, questioning whether his own ears were working properly.
After repeatedly comparing Isabella's and William's faces, he finally stood up.
"Mr. Spencer, please do not joke with me."
"I do not think Ms. Tudor should be sent to a hospital right now. She should be sent to a funeral home."
William cut him off. "I am not asking for your opinion."
He grabbed the doctor by the collar. "Just do what I tell you. Why all this nonsense?"
William let go, and the doctor's white coat tore along a seam.
But he still braced himself and said, "This does not follow protocol. Mr. Spencer, I think..."
William threw a check at him, hitting him in the face.
"However much money you want, fill it in yourself."
Seeing the doctor unmoved, Dylan stepped forward. He picked up the check, handed it to the doctor, then lowered his voice and said something in his ear.
"Do as Mr. Spencer says, or you will not be leaving through that door."
The doctor looked at William's murderous eyes, wiped the sweat from his neck, and finally called the medical staff to put Isabella on the stretcher.
When the medical staff carried Isabella down on the stretcher, both women in the cage looked up.
Fortunately, the hospital staff was all busy, and no one noticed the two naked women in the corner.
Juniper raised her head, watching William follow closely beside the stretcher, one of his hands constantly holding Isabella's hand without letting go.
She saw Isabella's other hand slip out from under the white sheet, dangling in the air, swaying back and forth.
She suddenly remembered that she herself had once dreamed of being in that position, having others call her Mrs. Spencer.
But now she did not dare think about it anymore.
She just felt cold down her back and had difficulty breathing.
Isla huddled in the corner, eyes staring straight ahead, mouth open but unable to make a sound.
Her gaze followed the stretcher until it disappeared from view.
Dylan canceled the family doctor's visit while in the car.
He looked at William, who still had not let go, looked at those two hands held together, his feelings mixed.
If only Isabella were still alive, how wonderful that would be.
But on second thought, he found this idea terrifying.
If Isabella were alive, would William still treat her this well?
Dylan had no definite answer in his heart.
Outside the car window, the night was thick, with only passing headlights and streetlights flickering.
William lowered his head. He touched Isabella's hand and said, "Isabella, do not be afraid. We will be there soon."
"This time, I will not let go of your hand again. I will stay with you the whole time, I will not let you go through the darkness alone."
The ambulance siren tore through the night. The remaining medical staff in the vehicle all sat upright, no one daring to move, much less speak.
They watched William talking to the corpse, all feeling cold down their backs.
But what terrified them was not Isabella's corpse — it was the living William.
They looked at him like a mental patient who might violently attack at any moment, all consciously keeping their distance from William.
Five minutes later, the ambulance finally arrived at the hospital.
As the stretcher was being carried down, William started urging again.
"Faster, faster."
"We cannot delay."