Chapter 134

Chapter 134

The red light above Emergency Room Two went dark.

The heavy automatic doors slid open. The lead surgeon stepped out. He wore green surgical scrubs, the chest and sleeves stained with dark crimson. He raised his hand and pulled down the blue surgical mask, letting it hang from his left ear. His forehead was drenched in sweat.

Theodric stopped slapping himself. The marks on his face were swollen and purple, his left cheek grotesquely puffed up, a thin line of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. He scrambled forward on his hands and knees across the cold tile floor. The knees of his dress pants smeared with dust. He crawled to the doctor and grabbed the hem of his pants with both hands.

"How's my son?" Theodric looked up, his voice hoarse.

The doctor looked down at him. "We saved him. The wound was deep—ruptured spleen. We performed repair surgery. Thanks to the gentleman who provided blood. Five minutes later and the boy would've been gone. His vital signs are stable now. We're transferring him to the ICU for observation."

Theodric released his grip. He collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air, his chest heaving violently.

"Go down to the first-floor lobby and settle the surgery and hospitalization fees. Come back after you finish the paperwork." The doctor turned and walked back into the emergency room.

Theodric sat on the floor for a minute. He used the wall to pull himself up. His legs were weak. He limped toward the elevator.

Caspian sat on the bench across the hall. Legs crossed, spine straight. His eyes never left the closed doors of Emergency Room One. He didn't look at the doctor. He didn't look at Theodric.

Flynn approached with a tablet. "Mr. Mitchell, should you go to the blood draw room and rest? You donated eight hundred milliliters. Your body can't take much more."

Caspian shook his head. "No."

Two hours passed. The hallway was quiet except for the hum of the ventilation fan. Theodric came back after paying the fees. He stood in the corner at the far end of the hall. He didn't dare approach Caspian. He kept his head down, staring at the floor.

The red light above Emergency Room One went dark. The door opened. Dr. Stuart stepped out. He hadn't removed his mask. He walked over to Caspian.

Caspian stood. He was a head taller than Dr. Stuart. He looked into the doctor's eyes.

"Talk."

Dr. Stuart sighed. "We saved her."

Caspian nodded. "Good."

"But." Dr. Stuart slowed his words. "Her brain was oxygen-deprived for too long. Severe blood loss. Combined with complications from her terminal illness. Her bodily functions have dropped to their lowest point. The resuscitation was successful, but she's fallen into a deep coma."

Caspian stared at him. "What does that mean?"

"Persistent vegetative state." Dr. Stuart said. "A vegetative state. She can't breathe on her own—she needs a ventilator. No consciousness. No sensation. Only a heartbeat."

Caspian didn't move. His fingers curled into fists.

Theodric heard from the corner. He rushed forward. Two bodyguards immediately blocked him.

"You're lying!" Theodric screamed. "How could she be in a vegetative state? She was yelling at me yesterday! There's no way she won't wake up!"

Caspian turned to Flynn. "Shut him up."

Flynn walked over. No wasted words. He drove his fist into Theodric's stomach. Theodric doubled over, retching up acidic bile. He couldn't make a sound, clutching his abdomen as he dry-heaved.

Caspian turned back to Dr. Stuart. "Move her to the best room on the top floor. Use the best medication. The best equipment. Whatever it costs, get it from Flynn. I want her alive."

Dr. Stuart nodded. "We'll do our best. I'll arrange the transfer immediately."

A nurse wheeled out a gurney. Camilla lay on it. Eyes closed. A thick breathing tube inserted in her mouth. Wires and IV lines connected all over her body.

Caspian walked alongside the gurney. He didn't touch her. He looked at her face. Deathly pale. Not a trace of color. White as paper.

The gurney entered the VIP intensive care room on the top floor.

The room was spacious. A living area outside, the patient room inside. A private bathroom and a caregiver's bed.

Several nurses carefully transferred Camilla to the hospital bed. They connected the heart monitor and ventilator. The machines beeped in steady rhythm.

Caspian pulled over a chair and sat beside the bed. He watched Camilla.

Flynn stood outside the door, pulling out his tablet. He began handling company business.

Flynn thought to himself: 'Mr. Mitchell definitely has no mind for the company right now. I have to shoulder this. Serena—hired a hitman. The evidence is solid. I need to have the legal team bury her. She can't be allowed to recover from this. The Mitchell Group's stock can't fall—I need to contact PR and release a statement.'

Flynn dialed the legal department. "Serena's case. You handle it completely. I want her locked up for life. No settlements."

The lawyer on the line said, "Understood. The evidence is strong. We've obtained the offshore account records. The fanatic confessed. Serena's personal assistant turned state's witness. This case is airtight."

Flynn hung up. He looked at the hospital room door.

Theodric sat on the hallway floor, leaning against the wall. He looked at his hands. Blood still stained them.

Theodric thought: 'What have I done? I treated Serena like treasure. She wanted to kill my ex-wife. Ollie took a knife for Camilla. Ollie hates me. Camilla's a vegetable. I have nothing left. The company stock is crashing. Shareholders want to remove me. I'm done. I'll stay here and watch over her. When she wakes up, I'll take her home.'

The next morning.

Flynn entered the room. Caspian sat in the chair. Same position as yesterday. He hadn't changed clothes. The bloodstains on his shirt had dried black.

"Mr. Mitchell. Clean clothes arrived. Go take a shower and change." Flynn set a paper bag on the sofa.

Caspian didn't move.

"Mr. Mitchell, you smell like blood. Ms. Lavien won't be comfortable." Flynn said.

Caspian stood. He took the bag and walked into the bathroom. Water ran.

Flynn walked to the bedside. He looked at Camilla.

Flynn thought: 'Ms. Lavien is so unlucky. Met a man like Theodric. Finally divorced, and then this happens. I hope she wakes up. Otherwise Mr. Mitchell will lose it. If Mr. Mitchell loses it, the Mitchell Group is finished. And so is my bonus.'

Caspian came out in fresh clothes. Black shirt. Black slacks. Hair half-dry.

He walked to the bed. He picked up the warm water cup from the nightstand. He dipped a medical cotton swab in water. He dabbed it gently across Camilla's cracked lips.

Slow. Careful. Three passes.

Doctors came for rounds. Dr. Stuart led. The neurology chief and oncology chief followed.

They checked the data on the machines. Lifted Camilla's eyelids. Shined a penlight.

"No pupil response." The neurology chief said.

"Brain waves are flat. No fluctuation." The other chief said.

Dr. Stuart wrote in the chart.

Caspian watched them. "When will she wake up?"

Dr. Stuart closed the chart. "Mr. Mitchell, medically speaking, if a persistent vegetative state lasts beyond three months, the probability of waking is extremely low. Her physical condition is very poor. Chemotherapy for her terminal illness has been forcibly interrupted. We need to prepare for the worst."

Caspian looked at Dr. Stuart. "There is no worst. Treat her. Use the best medication to sustain her. Whatever equipment is missing, I'll buy it."

Dr. Stuart nodded. They left the room.

Caspian sat in the chair. He took Camilla's hand. It was cold. He wrapped it in both of his.

He looked at her face.

"You promised me." Caspian spoke. "The exhibition hasn't happened yet. The studio hasn't opened. You can't break your word."

Camilla didn't respond. The machines beeped. The waveform on the screen stayed flat and even.