Chapter 112: Chapter 112: The Child Was Not Saved
Victoria Monroe was carried into the car by Rhys Hawthorne. Although the car had heating, with her whole body soaked, the wind felt like it was seeping through her pores rather than offering warmth, making her shiver uncontrollably.
Fortunately, Rhys had prepared a blanket for her in the car. His movements weren’t exactly graceful; they were almost rough as he pulled the blanket apart and wrapped Victoria tightly with it.
Even though Rhys himself was drenched, he didn’t bother changing his clothes, holding Victoria with one arm and lifting a thermos cup to her lips with the other.
"Drink some hot water first to warm up your body."
Victoria was already weak, and exposure to cold and blood loss had brought her to the brink of collapse.
Yet, she didn’t dare close her eyes, fearing she’d hear bad news when she reopened them.
Her hand reached out from the blanket to grasp Rhys Hawthorne’s wrist, her voice weak and tearful, "Rhys, the child... my child..."
Her pale little face was so helpless and terrified, thinking about how happily she bought so many little clothes and toys for the child, yet now she faced the possibility of losing the child.
There was nothing Rhys could do to help her with this; he could only do his best to comfort her.
"Don’t be afraid, the doctor will help you. Let’s wait until we get to the hospital; it might not be so bad. Just drink some water now."
Victoria took a couple of sips of water, feeling a bit warmer, but her anxious heart couldn’t find peace.
When they reached the hospital, the doctors had already been notified and were ready with an emergency stretcher, with everyone from the attending physician to the nurses prepared.
The car door hadn’t even opened when the hospital director was ready with an umbrella, and Rhys raced inside with Victoria, briefing the attending physician as soon as he placed her on the emergency cart.
"She accidentally fell into the pool, with bleeding below, no other physical injuries; the first task is to save her child."
The attending physician looked at the blood-stained blanket with a furrowed brow, already having an idea given the amount of blood loss, "We will do our best."
Victoria was extremely frightened, her eyes locked onto Rhys as if seeing him eased her helplessness.
She reached out, and as Rhys kept pace with the swiftly-moving emergency cart, he held onto her hand.
"Rhys..."
"Don’t be afraid, I’m here, I’m always here."
Through teary eyes, Victoria looked at the man wearing only a white shirt, who was like a god from the clouds, yet now he was adorned with bright red blood.
His hair was still wet and not fully dried, the strands falling over his full forehead, and his eyes were no longer aloof.
He finally had a touch of human warmth.
It was her blood that stained him.
It was almost laughable; in such a vast world, Rhys was the only one she could rely on.
The young master she had taken in as a child.
Tongue-tied with countless words, Victoria, in a hoarse voice, clutched his hand again and said, "Thank you..."
Rhys wanted to wipe the tears from the corners of her eyes, but she had already entered the operating room.
Rhys could only stop in his tracks.
He watched the attending physician go in and said, "No matter what it costs, you must save her child."
The doors to the operating room closed.
Rhys stood disheveled in the corridor, watching the tightly shut doors.
From a young age, everything had gone smoothly for him, getting what he wanted whenever he wanted.
Status, power, money; all the best adjectives one could think of were attributed to him.
Possessing so much left him with little desire.
At the age of five, he first learned that there existed such poverty in the world.
They would pickle fresh vegetables to last through the long winter.
The children there wore patched-up old cotton clothes, unable to afford even cocoa butter substitutes for chocolate.
Living in such a poor place, Victoria Monroe had the most brilliant smile on earth.
She bloomed radiant flowers in barren mud.
She had many dreams: to have money, live in a big house, drive a small car, take her grandmother to an amusement park, having heard of a carousel that glows at night.
When Victoria told him all this, her eyes were shining.
In that moment, Rhys seemed to find the meaning of his existence.
He no longer lacked desires; he wanted to protect her smile.
A million dollars back then was enough to fulfill all her wishes.
At twenty-four, Rhys was just like five-year-old Rhys; his thoughts had never changed.
He didn’t want to see her tears; he loved her smile.
But at this moment, he felt a profound sense of powerlessness.
Even though he was not a doctor, he knew there was a high probability of losing Victoria’s child given such blood loss.
He possessed supreme power but couldn’t control the passing of life, only watching helplessly as it all unfolded.
It was his fault; if he had just arrived a little earlier, he could have stopped it all.
But no one in this world has the power to foresee the future.
The driver approached with a clean set of clothes.
"Sir, you should change clothes first."
Rhys, always attentive to his appearance, didn’t want to leave the operating room at this moment; Victoria’s only relative was in a sanatorium. He couldn’t walk away, fearing something else might happen to her.
He was her only support now.
Rhys stood tall at the door, unwilling even to sit and wait for the result.
He wanted to be the first to see Victoria when the door opened.
His voice was cold and sinister: "Tell Kylian to guard the hospital entrance, and if Julian Fordham dares to intrude, break his legs!"
"Yes."
"Find out who’s behind the online rumors."
"Yes."
"Get the surveillance records from the Fordham Family; I want to know how she fell into the water."
"Understood."
"Prepare some nutritious soup."
"I’ll take care of it now."
In a short time, Rhys arranged everything. Originally, he didn’t want to interfere in Victoria’s marriage, as it wasn’t what a gentleman does.
But now, with Victoria lying on the operating table, if she had a D&C, she might never have children again.
She shouldn’t suffer alone; those who hurt her or harmed her would not be forgiven!
Just then, the operating room door opened.
It had only been a few minutes, and Rhys’s heart tightened.
Did Victoria encounter trouble on the operating table?
Did the blood loss cause other complications?
Rhys took two steps forward, his dark pupils fixed on the chief surgeon, whose expression was unreadable behind the mask.
"How is she?"
"Sir, you need to be prepared; there’s bad news and good news."
"The child..."
"I’m sorry, we did our best, but the child couldn’t be saved."
Rhys’s heart seized; after all this, what good news could there possibly be?
His voice was hoarse as he asked, "Then... what’s the good news?"