The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 244

After Evelyn and Dr. Wright walked away, a sudden, heavy silence fell over the corridor.

Sebastian stood rooted to the spot, watching her silhouette vanish around the corner. She didn't walk quickly—in fact, there was a sluggishness born of sheer exhaustion in her steps—but her straight posture still carried that unique, unbreakable resilience of a true healer. The morning light poured in from the window at the end of the hall, stretching her shadow long and thin against the floor.

And then, the exact second her shadow disappeared—

Sebastian stumbled.

The single string of tension that had kept him upright all night finally snapped.

He shot a hand out to brace himself against the wall, his knuckles turning stark white from the force just to keep himself standing. But his legs were entirely hollowed out, as if every ounce of strength had been completely drained from his body. Slowly, almost collapsing, he sank onto the bench, hunching his back and burying his face in his hands.

The terror, anxiety, and absolute despair he had violently suppressed all night finally shattered the dam. He sat there, his shoulders shaking subtly, but no sound escaped him. The tears refused to fall; they stayed lodged in his chest, suffocating him until he could barely breathe.

"Mr. Thorne..." Mrs. Cunningham approached him cautiously.

Sebastian waved a hand, signaling her to leave him be.

He stayed like that for about three minutes, right up until the operating room doors swung open again.

Seth swiftly walked over. "Mr. Thorne, Isabella is coming out."

Sebastian threw his head up.

The medical staff wheeled the hospital bed out of the surgical wing. Isabella lay on the mattress, covered by sterile sheets, an oxygen mask over her face, leaving only her pale forehead and tightly shut eyes visible. A bank of machines hung off the side of her bed—the portable monitor displaying her heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen levels; the ECMO machine still churning, two thick tubes extending from the dressings on her neck to the external bypass unit; and an IV pole hooked up to five or six bags of fluids, ranging from heparin for anti-coagulation to dopamine to raise her blood pressure, alongside nutritional supplements.

Her chest rose and fell rhythmically with the ventilator, each breath causing the tangle of tubes and wires resting against her to shift slightly.

Now, it was his turn to watch over her.

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The ICU was located on the top floor of the retreat. The entire level had been retrofitted into a state-of-the-art intensive care unit. The bed was wheeled into an isolated VIP suite. Through the massive glass partition, one could clearly see everything happening inside.

"Mr. Thorne," Dr. Wright offered. "Would you like to go inside and see her? We can get you prepped in a sterile gown..."

"No need," Sebastian cut him off, his voice finally returning to its usual, icy composure. "I'll just watch from out here."

He knew the protocol. The absolute greatest threat in an ICU was infection, especially now when his mother's immune system was critically compromised. The slightest exposure to outside bacteria could be instantly fatal. He refused to take that risk, even if it was a one-in-a-million chance.