Chapter 1462

Two nurses were laying out the surgical tools when, to their shock, one turned around and the patient was gone. One nurse dashed off in pursuit while the other hurriedly dialed Dr. Amelia’s number.

Dr. Amelia answered the phone, her voice laced with surprise and urgency. “Mr. Laurence, it’s an emergency – Mrs. Laurence has just bolted from the operating room…”

Bernard, freshly clad in his sterile scrubs, felt his heart skip a beat. He flung open the locker room door and sprinted down the hallway, the soles of his shoes barely touching the ground as he raced to find Eleanor.

Eleanor, with the nurse following her, stumbled and weaved her way through the corridors, looking back anxiously. Distracted, she collided with someone…

The man steadied the wobbling Eleanor with a firm grip, then fixed her with a piercing, icy gaze. “Why the hell are you running?” he asked, his voice a blend of irritation and concern. Recognizing the man as Robin, Eleanor mumbled an apology before attempting to sidestep him and continue her escape. But before she could get far, Robin caught her hand and yanked her back. “Who are you trying to dodge?” he asked.

the nurse charging down the corridor toward her. In a panic, she tried to shake

as she was about to lash out, Robin shouldered his way through the onlookers and fixed his gaze on the approaching nurse. “I have no clue what’s going on, but that nurse is clearly after

suddenly bent down, scooped her up in his arms, and made

her seatbelt. Glancing out the window, she intended to see if the nurse had followed

fleeting look, the car moved and sped away. Eleanor pressed her face against the window, lips parting to say something, but the sight of Bernard’s eyes, filled with despair, stabbed at her heart. She knew he must despise her

his scrubs, obviously about to enter the OR as a support person. Eleanor was also

he glanced at Eleanor. “What the hell is

heart gently touched her belly. “The doctor said my heart transplant and sudden pregnancy-induced hypertension are a bad mix. They’re

medical jargon but asked bluntly, “What happens

a moment before replying, “Without the surgery, there’s only a 10% chance for me to survive… With it, maybe 30%.

me that either way, the odds

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