The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 9

She answered, and her assistant's panicked voice flooded through the speaker. "Doctor, we have a crisis! Patient number three in the phase three trial is experiencing severe rejection! His vitals are crashing! The expert panel is running a remote consultation, but the prognosis is extremely grim!"

Evelyn's expression instantly turned deadly serious. "Send me the data. Right now."

"But Doctor, you just pulled an all-nighter..."

"Send it to me!" Evelyn commanded, leaving no room for argument.

Five minutes later, the entire medical file, test reports, and real-time monitoring data flooded her laptop screen.

She put on her glasses, her fingers flying across the keyboard to pull up Patient 3's complete history. Sixty-seven years old, late-stage lung cancer, had already undergone three rounds of chemotherapy, body extremely frail. Upon joining the Serenity-1 trial, initial responses were highly positive, with significant tumor shrinkage.

But this morning, he had suddenly spiraled into acute respiratory failure.

Evelyn stared at the dense wall of data, her mind racing at lightning speed.

It wasn't an allergic reaction. It wasn't a dosage error. It was...

"Doctor, the patient's blood oxygen saturation just dropped to 75!" The assistant's voice cracked with terror.

"Prepare for endotracheal intubation," Evelyn ordered with ice-cold precision. "Administer 10mg of dexamethasone and 40mg of methylprednisolone intravenously. Notify the anesthesia department to stand by for emergency resuscitation."

"But Doctor, steroids like dexamethasone might—"

"Do as I say!" Evelyn's voice spiked with authority. "The patient is experiencing an immune storm, not a standard drug reaction! Execute the order. Right. Now!"

Her commanding presence shattered all hesitation. Over the line, she could hear the immediate scramble to execute her orders.

Evelyn stared at the real-time monitoring data, her fingers subconsciously clenching into tight fists.

This was the drug she had poured three grueling years of her life into developing. If this severe adverse reaction caused the clinical trials to be halted, all of her painstaking efforts would be completely obliterated.

More importantly, this patient would die.

She absolutely could not let him die.

The seconds ticked by, each moment feeling like she was burning on a pyre.

Ten minutes later, the assistant's voice broke through the silence, vibrating with relief. "Doctor! Blood oxygen is back up to 85! The patient has stabilized!"

The rigid tension in Evelyn's shoulders finally shattered. She collapsed back into her chair, her back slick with cold sweat.

"Maintain constant monitoring. Notify me immediately of any changes."

"Understood!"

Hanging up, she took off her glasses and rubbed her burning eyes.

Glancing into the mirror, she realized she looked terrifyingly pale. Her lips were completely devoid of color. Only her eyes—exhausted from the sleepless night and the adrenaline of the emergency rescue—were so bloodshot they looked like they were bleeding.

And her?

She had wasted three entire years of her life on a marriage that had died before it even began.

It wasn't worth it.

It really wasn't worth it at all.

…

After carrying Leo out of the dining room, Lyra didn't immediately head upstairs. Instead, she slipped through a side door leading into the gardens.

Pushing open the glass doors, a rush of crisp air laced with the sweet scent of blooming roses washed over her. The three-year-old boy immediately began squirming with excitement. "Mommy! Flowers! Pretty flowers!"

"Shh—" Lyra pressed an index finger to her lips, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Be a good boy, Leo, and keep your voice down. Christian is working."

The little boy immediately clamped a hand over his mouth, his big eyes blinking rapidly, looking so sweet it made the heart ache.

Lyra carried him deep into the gardens, finally sitting down on a bench nestled beside a cluster of violently blooming pink roses. It was far enough from the main house, completely shielded by the dense foliage, so she didn't have to worry about being overheard.

She set the boy down beside her, pulled a handkerchief from her purse, and gently wiped the remaining oatmeal from the corner of his mouth.

"Leo, you were such a good boy in the dining room just now," she murmured softly, as if sharing a secret. "Christian fed you, and you ate perfectly."