Kicked Out I Unlocked My Ultimate Boss Mode novel Chapter 9

**TITLE: Broken Doesn’t Mean End**
**By M. Kaushik**

**Chapter 9: I Don’t Need Their Gratitude**

Maxwell had always stood at the pinnacle of his profession, never once tasting the bitter fruit of defeat. Yet, today, a wave of humiliation crashed over him, unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was as if the ground beneath his feet had crumbled away, leaving him in a void of despair.

His complexion paled, a stark contrast to the confidence he usually exuded. He struggled to maintain his composure, lowering his voice to a near whisper, “Dr. Jefferson, why are you so confident that Helen can perform this surgery? It’s impossible without making an incision!”

Robin’s response was cool, almost chilling, as he met Maxwell’s gaze with a sharp glint of warning in his eyes. “Dr. Morgan, for you, it may be impossible. But for Ms. Helen, it is not,” he stated firmly. “Some lines should never be crossed. Just know this: Ms. Helen’s intervention means that Ms. Garcia was never meant to die here today.”

Maxwell’s heart raced, a violent flutter that threatened to escape his control. He couldn’t fathom why Robin held such unwavering faith in Helen.

Some lines shouldn’t be crossed?

A memory flickered in his mind, one of Helen living quietly and modestly beneath the Morgans’ roof. She had always seemed so unassuming, so ordinary.

Time dragged on, each second stretching painfully as he waited for news.

Finally, the red light above the operating room flickered off, signaling the end of the procedure. The door swung open, and George was about to rush forward when Maxwell, who had been anxiously pacing outside, surged ahead of him.

Helen emerged, peeling off her mask to reveal a face that was pale with exhaustion yet still undeniably beautiful.

“How’s the patient?!” Maxwell demanded, urgency lacing his tone.

Helen turned to him, her expression cold as ice. “What kind of result are you hoping to hear?” she shot back, her voice laced with an edge of disdain.

Maxwell felt his breath hitch.

In that fleeting moment, it was as if Helen had peered directly into the darkest corners of his heart, unearthing the truth he had buried deep within.

Yes.

He harbored a secret wish for the surgery to fail, for Helen to be disgraced so he could salvage his own pride from the ruins of her downfall.

A mocking chuckle escaped Helen’s lips.

Then she looked away, her demeanor shifting. “The patient’s alive. Her spleen is intact. If you follow my recovery prescription, she will be fully healed within two weeks.”

Her voice was so calm, as if she had merely dealt with a minor inconvenience rather than a life-and-death situation.

Maxwell felt an overwhelming urge to throw himself at the mobile hospital bed, his heart racing as he checked on Stella.

The girl lay there quietly, her face still pale, yet her breathing was steady and even.

His gaze darted to the monitor beside her.

All readings were stable.

He examined her abdomen next, his heart pounding in his chest.

No ghastly incision marred her skin. Just a few nearly invisible needle marks.

Maxwell’s hands trembled, disbelief coursing through him.

His pupils dilated as he quickly pulled up the real-time monitoring footage and the latest blood test results.

All internal bleeding—absorbed.

All adhesions—cleared.

The spleen was perfectly intact, not a single blood vessel harmed.

“N-no way!” he stammered, his throat tightening as shock rendered him nearly speechless.

Everything before him obliterated the pride he had once carried in his mind.

“H-how did she do it? Are you sure she didn’t use a scalpel?” he exclaimed, grabbing Talia, who was pushing the gurney, his voice hoarse and eyes bloodshot with disbelief.

Talia jumped back, startled by his intensity.

The composed man she had known was nowhere to be found.

Recalling the incredible scene she had just witnessed in the operating room, excitement bubbled within her. “Yes! Ms. Helen only used alternative medicine tools, like premium needles, long needles, and other medical-grade instruments.

“Ms. Helen is incredible! Watching her handle those needles was like witnessing fiction come to life!

“In her hands, those needles were even more precise than a surgeon’s scalpel! That wasn’t mere surgery—it was art! It was something that deserved a place in the annals of Veridia Hospital’s medical history!”

Talia’s fingers trembled with enthusiasm as she continued, “And … and most importantly, she used her specially crafted herbal hemostatic powder!”

Each word pierced Maxwell’s ears, shaking the very foundation of his scientific beliefs.

Helen had truly accomplished the impossible.

In those dire circumstances, she had performed a bloodless, incision-free procedure using only her premium tools.

She had snatched Ms. Garcia from the jaws of death.

Could traditional medicine really be that miraculous?

That little b*tch! Who was she trying to fool with this act?

Just then, Helen’s gaze swept across the room, landing sharply on Amanda.

That cool, cutting look made Amanda’s heart sink.

Then Helen’s voice rang out, cold and devoid of emotion. “Robin, it seems Veridia Hospital will hire just about anyone.”

Amanda’s face blanched in an instant, panic flaring in her eyes as she looked at Robin. “Dr. Jefferson, I—”

“Ms. Helen, don’t worry,” Robin interjected without even glancing at Amanda. “I promise you’ll never see her in this field again.”

Helen slipped her hands into her pockets nonchalantly. “Good.”

With that, she strolled toward the elevator with an air of confidence.

George hurriedly hung up the phone and jogged after her.

“Helen, wait!” he called out, urgency in his voice.

Maxwell ran after them too, his eyes bloodshot, desperation clawing at him. “Since when did you practice traditional medicine? Why didn’t I know about it?”

Helen turned slightly, a sharp mockery glinting in her eyes. “And what would you know? In the past four years, have you ever cared enough to find out what I was doing?”

Maxwell was left speechless, the weight of her words crashing down on him.

Of course, he hadn’t.

Ever since Helen had returned, he had viewed her as nothing more than a country bumpkin. Just a pretty face with no substance.

A self-proclaimed genius like him would never take someone like her seriously.

And after Lydia’s return, all his focus had shifted to her.

Disgust had been his only sentiment toward Helen.

Her question struck him hard, guilt flickering in his eyes as he licked his dry lips. “Then… then why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The mockery in Helen’s gaze deepened, her cold stare piercing through Maxwell like a blade.

She let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Are you sure about that?”

Maxwell’s pupils constricted, and the color drained from his face little by little as the weight of her words settled in.