Chapter 216 Chris is So Gentle at Heart
At Prestige High School, students were handled like fine china—too precious to risk even a single crack. The administration worried over every bruise, every fainting spell—as if the school's reputation depended on keeping its charges untouched.
So when Amelia fell from a horse in full view of the crowd at the riding arena, panic rippled through instantly. Donny had likely heard within minutes.And once word spread that Zander had carried her off without hesitation, Donny immediately contacted Kevin—her legal guardian.
On the other end, Kevin's voice was taut with urgency. Only then did it hit her—her phone was still in the locker room at the arena.He must have called her over and over—each unanswered ring deepening his fear that she'd lost consciousness or suffered something far worse.Frantic, he'd gone straight to Zander.
"Kevin, don't panic." Zander shot a quick look at Amelia. "She fell. The injuries... they're not minor. But she's stable. We're in a cab, headed to Central."
"Not minor?!" Kevin's sharp inhale nearly swallowed the word "stable." "Keep her safe. I'm heading to Central now."
"Mr. Martinez, your meeting in ten minutes..." a secretary's voice murmured faintly on the other end.
"Cancel it. We'll reschedule when I'm back." Kevin's answer came without hesitation, brooking no argument.
Then, turning to Zander: "I'll call Chris—have him ready for her. Go straight to him when you arrive."
"Understood." Zander's voice was clipped but steady.
Chris was a surgeon at Central—a prodigy, by any standard. He'd started university early, skipped two grades, and earned his medical degree from one of the most prestigious schools abroad. The hospital expected him to become the youngest attending physician in its history.
When Kevin's call reached him, Chris was in the duty room. It was his day off, but he was covering for a colleague who'd fallen ill.
Pen in hand, gaze fixed on the report before him, his voice was steady as he picked up.
But the moment Kevin said Amelia had fallen at school—and was being brought in by Zander—Chris's breath caught. His head snapped up, the pen stilling in his fingers. His expression shifted in an instant—composure giving way to razor focus. "A fall from a horse? How serious?"
"I don't know the details," Kevin admitted. "Zander said it's not minor. They'll be there in ten. Get her straight into imaging. I'll be there in thirty."
"I'm on it." Chris's response was clipped.
Years in the ER had trained him to read between the lines. "Not minor" painted a picture of blood, of fractures.He knew riding accidents rarely reached that level—but the thought still made his fingers tremble. Forcing a steady breath, he hung up.
Kevin had told Zander to page Chris when they arrived. He didn't need to. When the taxi pulled up to the hospital, Zander looked up to see Chris already outside—tall in his white coat over a pale shirt and black trousers.
His features were cool and sharply defined, carrying the kind of reserve that kept people at a distance.
The reserve dissolved the instant his eyes found the cab. He crossed the distance in long, urgent strides—nearly running.
"How is she?" Chris's voice was low, urgent, as he pulled the door open.
Dust clung to Amelia's hair; her cheek was streaked with dried blood. Her forearm bore matching marks—the skin broken and crusted dark. One look, and Chris knew this was no simple fall. His chest constricted.
He kept his expression steady, but Amelia caught the hitch in his breath. "Chris, I'm okay. Don't worry."
Amelia wasn't one to dramatize pain. Even with a fracture, she'd never claim to hurt more than she did.But she also knew her brothers—worry wasn't something they could simply switch off.
Chris didn't ease up. He bent slightly, voice taut. "Can you walk?"
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "My leg won't move. I don't think I can."
"That means the bone is affected." He drew a deep breath, brow furrowed. Without a word, he slid one arm under her knees, the other around her back—lifting her with careful precision."We'll start in the on-call room—clean the wounds, check mobility—then imaging."
"Okay," she murmured.
The hospital corridors were quiet, the hour edging toward the end of the morning shift.
In the on-call room, Chris examined her injuries with methodical care, questioning every ache, every sensation. Once he was satisfied there was no concussion, no internal trauma, his shoulders relaxed—just slightly.
He cleaned and bandaged the cuts on her face and arms, then sent Zander to find a wheelchair. She was light, but carrying her everywhere wasn't practical—the wheelchair would make the trip to radiology easier.
X-ray, CT, MRI—Chris ordered them all. Caution was his instinct, especially when it came to family.
When the results came in, he reviewed them at once. As Amelia had guessed, her lower back was bruised—no sprain, no fracture. The injury to her leg was a small, non-displaced crack in the bone. A cast would stabilize it; a few months' rest, and she'd be fine.No other bones or organs were damaged—thankfully.
The doctor in him saw it as fortunate. The brother in him finally exhaled.
They spent half an hour in the exam room before Chris called an orthopedic colleague. Off-duty or not, the man agreed at once—Chris's name opened doors.
As he wheeled her toward orthopedics, she tilted her head up. "See? I told you it wasn't so bad."Maybe you should call Kevin—tell him not to hurry."
"You're sitting there with a fracture, and you call that 'not so bad'?" He glanced down at her, his tone cool—but something warmer lurked beneath.
Amelia knew him—cool on the surface, but patient and gentle underneath. That was why he'd chosen to heal instead of hurt.
She was about to answer when Chris halted the wheelchair, crouching before her unexpectedly...