The One He Dismissed Became The One He Died For novel Chapter 10

Claire pulled a compact umbrella out of her purse and charged after him without a second thought.

Out on the sidewalk, an elderly man suddenly let out a muffled groan, clutched his chest, and violently collapsed to the ground, his face rapidly turning a terrifying shade of blue.

“Somebody fainted!”

“Call 911!”

Pedestrians stopped and screamed, but everyone maintained a safe distance. No one dared to step forward.

A torrential storm. A collapsed senior. A sudden medical episode.

The combination of those severe liability factors ensured the crowd firmly opted to play the role of 'wise bystanders'.

“Move.”

The crisp, authoritative command slashed straight through the panicked crowd.

Miles bolted over to the old man and crouched down, letting the hem of his ludicrously expensive suit pants plunge straight into the filthy puddles.

He quickly flicked on his phone's flashlight to check the man's pupils, professionally pressed two fingers against the carotid artery, and ripped open the buttons of the man's soaked shirt.

His voice was rapid-fire and clinical. “Tension pneumothorax. We need to perform an immediate needle decompression.”

Miles snapped his head up, scanning the horrified onlookers. “Does anyone have something sharp? A pen? A hairpin? Anything! Hurry!”

The crowd fell dead silent, the gawkers instinctively taking two massive steps backward.

Everyone was terrified of catching a lawsuit.

“Does anyone have anything? Hand it over!” Miles yelled, raw urgency bleeding into his voice.

“I do!”

Claire sprinted out of the crowd, yanking a silver styling pin out of her hair. It was a specialized embroidery tool she used at her atelier, but she often used it to hold up her buns.

“Dr. Zimmerman, will this work?”

Miles grabbed it. As his hand brushed against her freezing fingers, he hesitated for a microsecond before borrowing a lighter from a bystander to run a hasty sterilization over the metal.

He shot a commanding look at Claire. “Hold him down. Don't let him thrash.”

“Okay...” Claire dropped to the ground beside the old man, locking her hands onto his shoulders to stabilize him, her own fingers trembling uncontrollably.

Miles located the exact intercostal space between the ribs, and with a terrifyingly fast, precise, and steady thrust, drove the pin straight in.

*Hiss—* The faint sound of rushing air followed instantly.

The lethal, high-pressure air trapped in the chest cavity violently escaped, and the sickening blue tint in the old man's face miraculously began to fade.

The surrounding crowd exploded into cheers.

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