Chapter 127

Chapter 127

Chaotic, hurried footsteps immediately echoed through the corridor.

Dr. Stuart charged into the room with five or six specialists, shoving Caspian aside.

"V-fib! Get the defibrillator ready!"

"Push one milligram of epinephrine!"

"Intubate immediately!"

A nurse wheeled in the crash cart and shouted at Caspian, "Mr. Mitchell, you need to leave! We have to resuscitate her now!"

The door slammed shut in Caspian's face.

He stood in the corridor, watching through the glass as chaos erupted inside.

The defibrillator paddles struck Camilla's fragile chest.

Her body jerked upward, then fell limply back onto the bed.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The waves on the EKG grew flatter and flatter.

Caspian's fists hammered against the glass, his knuckles splitting and bleeding, but he felt no pain.

Ten minutes later, the door burst open.

Dr. Stuart ran out drenched in sweat, clutching a form.

His hands shook so badly he could barely hold the thin sheet of paper.

"Mr. Mitchell." Dr. Stuart's voice trembled, his breathing ragged. "The rejection triggered acute heart failure. The patient could go into cardiac arrest at any moment. This is... a critical condition notice."

Caspian stared at the black text on white paper.

The words "Critical Condition Notice" stabbed at his eyes.

He grabbed Dr. Stuart by the collar and slammed him against the corridor wall.

"I poured all that money in, and this is what you show me?" Caspian's eyes blazed red, his breathing harsh and ragged. "Bring her back! If you can't, I'll make your entire hospital pay with her!"

"Mr. Mitchell, please calm down! We're doing everything we can, but you have to sign before we can proceed with high-risk open chest compressions!" Dr. Stuart shouted desperately, his voice cracking.

Caspian released him.

He snatched the pen from Dr. Stuart's hand and scrawled his signature on the form.

It was the ugliest signature he'd ever written.

Every stroke trembled with desperation, the pressure so intense it tore through the paper.

After signing, Caspian shoved away the sterile gown the nurse tried to hand him.

"I'm not wearing it."

He pushed through the door and strode into the ICU.

The acrid smell of disinfectant hit him full force.

Camilla lay on the bed, tubes down her throat, her face ashen and lifeless.

The EKG had flatlined.

A long, piercing tone shattered the ICU's silence.

The doctors stopped what they were doing, all eyes on the monitor, preparing to call time of death.

Caspian stormed over and shoved aside the doctors blocking the bed.

He grabbed Camilla's ice-cold hands and pressed them against his own face.

"Camilla!" Caspian's voice cracked with the anguished cry of a wounded animal. "You promised me yesterday! You said you'd live with dignity!"

"Are you abandoning Holden? Are you giving up on your studio?"

Tears streamed down Caspian's face, burning hot as they fell onto her hands.

He leaned down, his lips at her ear, and growled through gritted teeth. "Camilla, I won't let you die!"

"If you break this promise, I'll never forgive you! Not in this life—and I won't let you go in the next one either!"

The man's desperate roar was the only sound in the room.

Just when everyone thought all hope was lost—

The cold hand in Caspian's palm suddenly... ever so slightly...

Curled.

That barely perceptible movement struck Caspian's taut nerves like lightning.

His head snapped up, eyes locked on the hand in his palm.

"Doctor!"

His hoarse shout pierced through the ICU glass.

Dr. Stuart practically fell over himself rushing in. "There's a response! Prepare the cardiac stimulant!"

"One milligram, IV push!"

Everyone swarmed back to the bedside.

"Defibrillator ready! Charge to two hundred joules!" Dr. Stuart bellowed.

Camilla's body jerked again.

"No heart rate! Continue compressions!"

A nurse took over chest compressions, sweat pouring down her face.

Caspian stood outside the glass, his hands gripping the window frame so hard his nails drew blood.

He prayed frantically in his mind.

If she could just survive, he'd trade anything.

Finally, after the third defibrillation—

The flatline broke. The sound shifted to a weak but rhythmic beep.

"We've got it! There's a heartbeat!" the nurse cried out.

The resuscitation lasted two full hours.

Dawn broke faintly outside.

Dr. Stuart let out a long breath and removed his mask. His white coat was soaked through with cold sweat.

"Mr. Mitchell, it's a miracle." Dr. Stuart's voice still trembled. "She survived the first wave of cellular phagocytosis. All her vitals are rising. Ms. Lavien... she made it."

Caspian stood by the bed, motionless.

His tall frame was hunched, shoulders trembling slightly.

He said nothing, only gripped Camilla's hand again and buried his face in her palm.

Warm liquid splashed onto her skin, so hot her fingertips twitched.

She struggled to pry open her heavy eyelids.

Her vision stayed blurred for a long time before gradually focusing.

She saw the top of a man's head and heard his barely suppressed sobs.

"Caspian." Camilla's throat was painfully dry, her voice barely audible.

The man's head shot up.

That normally cold, stern face was now bloodshot, his eyes alarmingly red.

"I'm here." Caspian gripped her hand tightly—almost painfully so. "I'm right here."

"I didn't die." Camilla tried to smile through cracked lips but gasped at the pain.

"No, you didn't die." Caspian leaned close, forehead pressed to hers. "You won. We won the bet."

Three days later.

Camilla's vitals stabilized. She was transferred from the ICU to a top-floor VIP suite.

In the outer room—

Flynn directed several bodyguards as they carefully maneuvered a large mahogany desk through the door.

Then came filing cabinets, a leather executive chair, two high-end computers.

"Easy, don't hit the doorframe." Flynn kept his voice low, sweat beading on his forehead.

The Mitchell Group's temporary command center had been moved wholesale into the hospital.

The transparent glass partition gleamed spotless.

Caspian sat at the desk wearing a Bluetooth earpiece, facing a computer screen for an international video conference.

Dozens of executives filled the screen.

Caspian barely spoke, only occasionally tapping at the keyboard.

Every two seconds, his gaze shifted from the screen, through the glass partition, to the hospital bed.

A voice from the overseas branch manager came through his earpiece.

"Mr. Mitchell, regarding the final offer for the acquisition..."

"Lower it two points." Caspian spoke quietly into the microphone, voice barely above a murmur.

The manager paused. "But they're holding firm..."

"Then wait them out." Caspian cut him off.

His attention wasn't on the screen at all.

On the bed in the inner room, Camilla shifted, her brow furrowing slightly.