Chapter 136

Chapter 136

A month passed.

Flynn walked into the hospital room carrying a file.

"Mr. Mitchell, Dr. Smith declined." Flynn held out the document.

Caspian looked up but didn't take it. "Reason."

"He said waking vegetative patients is a global challenge. He doesn't take cases without certainty. And he's got a symposium next month—his schedule's completely full." Flynn replied.

Caspian stood. "Donate ten million dollars to his research institute. Tell him to come, whether he's certain or not. Charter a plane to pick him up. If he refuses, buy controlling shares of his institute and fire him."

Flynn nodded. "Understood. I'll handle it right away."

Flynn thought to himself: 'Mr. Mitchell's throwing money at the problem. Classic capitalist move. But it'll work. Dr. Smith will definitely come. Nobody says no to money.'

In the hallway, Theodric sat on a bench.

Today he wore casual clothes. An old jacket. Faded jeans.

His company had officially declared bankruptcy yesterday. The Clifford Group was gone. Assets liquidated by the courts. He was drowning in debt. The villa had been seized. He was renting a studio apartment now.

He held a bank card in his hand. It was the last of his money.

Flynn stepped out. Theodric stood.

"Mr. Cooper," Theodric called.

Flynn stopped. "Mr. Clifford. What is it?"

Theodric held out the card. "There's five hundred thousand dollars on here. It's the last of my money. For Camilla's medical bills."

Flynn didn't take it. "Mr. Mitchell already paid. There's ten million dollars in the account. We don't need your money."

"It's the thought that counts," Theodric said, his hand still extended.

"Your thoughts are worthless." Flynn looked at him. "Keep it and buy yourself food. Don't starve to death in front of the hospital. We'd have to pay someone to haul away your body."

Flynn walked past him toward the elevator.

Theodric stood there holding the card. He put it back in his pocket.

The elevator doors opened. Finn stepped out.

He wore a gray casual suit. Canvas shoes. A black cloth bag in his hand.

Two bodyguards stepped forward, blocking him.

Finn glared. "Move. I'm here to see a patient."

The bodyguards didn't budge. They only took orders from Caspian.

Caspian heard the commotion from inside the room. He stepped out.

He saw Finn. Caspian waved his hand. The bodyguards stepped back.

"Dr. Miller," Caspian said.

Finn walked in. He stood beside the bed, looking down at Camilla.

"A tragedy," Finn said.

He pulled over a chair and began examining her.

The room was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of the ventilator.

Five minutes later, Finn opened his eyes.

"She's very weak. Her life force is barely there." Finn withdrew his hand.

Caspian looked at him. "Is there a way?"

Finn opened the cloth bag he'd brought.

"I have a treatment method. It can stimulate the brain's nerves. Combined with herbal medicine. There might be a sliver of hope," Finn said.

Caspian nodded. "Do it."

Finn looked at Caspian. "This method carries risks. If the stimulation is too intense, it could accelerate brain death. Are you willing to try?"

Caspian looked at Camilla.

"Yes," Caspian said. His voice was steady.

Finn nodded. He began the treatment.

Sweat formed on Finn's forehead. Caspian handed him a towel. He wiped his face and continued.

Half an hour later, the treatment ended.

Finn wrote out a prescription and handed it to Caspian.

"Get these herbs. Boil three bowls of water down to one. Administer it through the feeding tube. Twice a day," Finn said.

Caspian took it and passed it to a bodyguard outside to handle.

Three days later, Dr. Smith arrived.

He brought a team of five. Three advanced diagnostic machines.

Dr. Smith reviewed Camilla's latest brain CT and MRI results.

"There's faint activity in the brain." Dr. Smith pointed to a small red dot on the screen. "This is rare. Usually in cases like this, brain waves are a flat line. Her cortex is responding."

Caspian looked at the screen. "It's Dr. Miller's treatment."

Dr. Smith shrugged. "I don't understand it. But based on the data, her brain is attempting to form new neural connections."

Dr. Smith's team began developing a treatment plan.

Every morning, Dr. Smith used transcranial magnetic stimulation to activate Camilla's brain nerves.

Every afternoon, Finn came to the hospital for half an hour of treatment.

Every evening, Caspian bathed her. Nurses administered medicine through the feeding tube.

Day after day passed.

Camilla still hadn't woken.

But her complexion improved slightly. No longer that deathly pallor. A hint of color returned to her face.

Caspian sat beside her bed every day. He read documents to her. Discussed company decisions.

"We acquired that plot in the south district today," Caspian said, looking at the file in his hand. "Right next to the cultural creative park you picked. I'm planning to build an art gallery. It'll be called 'Second Decade Studio.'"

Camilla didn't respond. Her breathing remained steady.

"The exhibition space is ready. When you wake up, you can set it up yourself." Caspian closed the file and set it on the table.

Outside, Theodric still came every day.

He'd found an ordinary job. A dispatcher at a logistics company. Scheduling shifts and vehicles every day.

After work each day, he came to the hospital. Stood at the glass for ten minutes. Then left.

He didn't speak. Didn't make a scene.

Flynn occasionally saw him but no longer mocked him.

Flynn thought: 'This guy's completely washed up. Should've known better. What's the point of playing devoted now?'

Inside the room, Caspian held Camilla's hand. He was trimming her nails.

The nail clippers made soft clicking sounds.

He felt Camilla's index finger move.

Just barely. A millimeter.

Caspian froze. He stopped trimming and stared at her hand.

"Camilla," he called.

The finger didn't move again.

Caspian pressed the call button. Dr. Stuart and the on-duty doctor rushed in.

"Her finger moved," Caspian said, pointing at Camilla's hand.

The doctor stepped forward. Tested her knee reflex with a small hammer. Pricked the sole of her foot with a needle.

"Mr. Mitchell, this may be an involuntary nerve twitch," the doctor said.

Caspian looked at the doctor. "It wasn't a twitch. She heard me."

The doctor said nothing and stepped aside.

Caspian turned back to Camilla.

"I know you can hear me," Caspian said. "Stop sleeping. Wake up and paint."

The machines beeped. The line on the screen showed a brief fluctuation. Then it smoothed out again.

Caspian gripped her hand tightly. He wouldn't let go. Not ever.