Chapter 270 He Became a Murderer Again
When the night shift nurse came forward, the first thing she saw was that face.
The young nurse screamed in fright and almost sent the gurney flying.
The doctor on duty had already learned what had happened on the way over. Although he was mentally prepared, he still froze when the body was actually placed before him.
In all his years of practicing medicine, this was the first time he had seen someone call an ambulance for a corpse and insist on running tests on it.
If the man in front of him had not been William, he would definitely have thrown him out.
He turned to look at the doctor who had come with the ambulance, but the latter just kept a stern face without any reaction.
He took a deep breath and finally stepped forward to stop them.
"Mr. Spencer, this... this is out of the question. She has already lost all vital signs. I think doing a CT scan on a dead person is a serious misuse of medical resources."
William lifted his head, his gaze cold. His patience had already been exhausted by the ambulance doctor.
He did not want to explain again.
The duty doctor opened his mouth, his prepared speech not yet spoken, when someone came rushing over from the other end of the corridor.
It was the hospital director, putting on his white coat as he walked, with two buttons of his suit underneath fastened crookedly.
"Mr. Spencer, I am sorry I am late."
The director walked to the gurney and just glanced at that hand. His Adam's apple bobbed, but he quickly regained his composure.
"I have already heard about Ms. Tudor's situation. The CT room is ready and can run tests for Ms. Tudor at any time."
The duty doctor stood frozen in place, forced back by a look from the director.
Clearly, that look carried more warning than anything else.
In this hospital, anyone could be refused, except William.
This man was someone the hospital could not afford to offend.
William said nothing, holding Isabella's hand the entire time.
He looked exactly like a husband whose wife was critically ill and distraught.
Because it was nighttime, the hospital was much quieter than during the day.
The corridor was empty, with only the sound of the gurney wheels rolling and the footsteps of several people.
Only after the CT room lights came on did William have no choice but to let go of her hand.
But he still did not leave, unable to feel at ease leaving Isabella alone.
Normally, outsiders were not allowed here.
Because he was William, he could stay.
The gurney was pushed into the scanning chamber. As the machine started up, a low humming sound echoed in William's ears.
The director stared at the screen. As the scan progressed layer by layer, images of bones appeared.
The director's brow furrowed and never relaxed again.
Isabella's bones could only be described as riddled with holes.
She had died from jumping off a building. Even with professional care after the procedure, her leg bones and ribs still had cracks, some light, some severe.
In comparison, her cervical spine was the worst.
At the throat, the bone had already fractured and shifted.
Before, Isabella's head had just been drooping. Now, without the support of bone, her head had fallen down, connected only by flesh and blood vessels.
As long as Isabella was in a standing or sitting position, her head would even touch her chest.
The director reviewed it three times before walking out of the operating room.
Standing before William, his face was grave.
"Mr. Spencer, the trauma Ms. Tudor's body has suffered is far more severe than I imagined."
"Her cervical spine is already fractured, along with her ribs and leg bones. If you want to ensure the body does not change shape, the best approach is not to move it."
"Otherwise, the cracks in her bones will worsen, and at some point, her body will fall apart."
William stood frozen. He suddenly clutched his hair, hitting his head again and again.
Do not move. Fall apart.
These words turned his original worry into guilt and regret.
He never would have thought that even after death, Isabella still could not escape being punished by him.
Even dead, her body had to continue suffering.
Now her cervical spine was broken, and it was because of him.
Because of his selfishness, because he feared loneliness, he had kept tormenting Isabella's broken body.
He thought this was companionship, belated love.
He was wrong. William was destined never to give Isabella love.
All he could give was harm.
William could not speak. His eyes turned red.
The director's brow was tightly furrowed. He opened his mouth, then swallowed back his words of comfort.
When William lifted his head again, his tone had become very calm.
Right now, he too wanted to stand on a rooftop and jump off.
That way, he would never hurt Isabella again.
"Is there a way to repair her bones?"
William's calm voice had lost all emotional fluctuation.
The director's furrowed brow turned toward Isabella's body. He hesitated, then slowly spoke.
"The only way is to open Ms. Tudor's body and use steel pins to fix the fractured bones in place."
"However..."
At this point, he suddenly did not know how to continue.
William stared into his eyes and pressed, "However, what?"
The director took a deep breath. "Ms. Tudor has been dead for over two weeks. All the cells in her body have lost their vitality."
"This means that once we use the knife, the wounds on her flesh will not heal, and the scars will never disappear."
William narrowed his eyes. Only after hearing this did the last bit of hope in his heart completely die.
He walked silently to the bedside and quietly looked at Isabella.
Every glance was like a final look.
He finally made up his mind.
"As long as Isabella can stay by my side, any method is fine."
"Except using the knife."
William bent down and touched Isabella's cheek.
"I have already left Isabella with so many scars. Her body cannot endure any more harm."
The director sighed. "Then there is only one last option - put Ms. Tudor in a preservation casket."
"As long as her body does not move anymore, she can stay in her current state forever."
William contacted Dylan and had a crystal casket custom-made for Isabella that very night.
William could not bear to put Isabella alone in a dark, oppressive coffin.
He could not bear not being able to see Isabella even more.
Two days later, that special room had been newly renovated.
The windows painted with black lacquer had all been removed, and half the walls had been torn down and replaced with large floor-to-ceiling glass walls.
The original double bed was removed, and the crystal casket was placed in the center of the bedroom.
Isabella lay inside the casket, her hands folded on her abdomen.
She could finally rest in peace.
William stood before the crystal casket, standing guard like a paper cutout.
He stood for a day and a night without feeling tired.
He just stood by the casket, quietly watching Isabella.
Even Dylan was kept outside, unable to see him all day.
No matter how Dylan knocked on the door or spoke, he did not respond.
Another piece of William's heart had broken off.
He had become a murderer again, killing Isabella for the second time.
William coughed and suddenly spat out a mouthful of red blood.
The blood splattered on the surface of the casket like a sudden burst of flowers.
But William had no reaction to coughing up blood, only pained that he had dirtied Isabella's bed.