The One He Dismissed Became The One He Died For novel Chapter 271

It was 4:00 AM, and the sky was already beginning to lighten by the time Claire and Miles finally returned to Grandview Heights.

She pushed the man down onto the bed and reached straight for his trousers.

"I can do it."

Claire swatted his hands away. "Stop moving. I need to check the wound on your leg."

Miles was genuinely exhausted. After six hours of intense, high-stakes concentration, the sudden drop in adrenaline left his arm muscles trembling.

Claire efficiently stripped off his trousers. The bandages behind his left knee were coming loose. She carefully peeled them back layer by layer. The wound had mostly healed, but the edges were still a bruised, sickly purple.

She fetched a hot towel, knelt beside the bed, and pressed it gently against his skin.

Claire looked up at him.

His eyes were closed, his long lashes casting faint shadows over his cheeks, his breathing deep and heavy.

"Dr. Zimmerman."

"Mhm," he let out a lazy hum.

"Do you get nervous when you go into surgery?"

"Yes. Anxiety is a fundamental requirement for a surgeon. Maintaining that high level of tension is the only way to guarantee you don't make a mistake."

Claire thought of the parents breaking down and sobbing in the hospital corridor.

If waiting outside had been that agonizing for her, she couldn't even begin to imagine the crushing pressure he endured inside the room, carrying the weight of a family's desperate hope.

She choked back the lump forming in her throat. "Go to sleep, Dr. Zimmerman. Get some real rest."

Lying in bed, Miles turned his head to look at her. "You're not sleeping?"

"I am, I just need to wash up."

Claire changed into fresh clothes and tiptoed out of the bathroom, terrified of waking him.

The man on the bed was already fast asleep, his breathing slow and rhythmic.

She stood by the bed, staring at him. Her mind was entirely consumed by the image of him in his lab coat—composed, professional, absolute.

She used to think he was cold, indifferent, and utterly unapproachable. Yet every patient he treated, no matter how severe the illness, received meticulously handwritten medical notes from him.

Dr. Zimmerman was their final beacon of hope.

In an instant, an overwhelming wave of inspiration hit her. She grabbed her iPad, her stylus flying furiously across the screen.

Back at the studio, Julian scrolled through the sketches, his knuckles white as his grip tightened on his phone. The others might not see it, but it was glaringly obvious to him.

The faceless male model in every single drawing was Miles. Even the core aesthetic of the clothes was drenched in that man's aura.

*Claire, what has gotten into you?*

Even when she had been dating Jefferson Sterling, she had never been this irrationally obsessed, completely blurring the line between her personal and professional life!

With a cold expression, he replied with a curt [Received].

Three days later, the Empire City International Exhibition Center was bathed in dazzling lights.

The rows flanking the runway were packed with media outlets exclusively invited by OCHH, alongside industry peers eager for a spectacle.

Dressed in a sleek, light grey suit with her hair pinned up flawlessly, Claire stepped onto the stage to deliver her opening remarks.

"Good evening, everyone. Welcome to the OCHH Luxury press conference. The Urban Voyager Collection is a line of professionally inspired garments tailored specifically for the modern man."

Standing directly under the spotlight, she articulated her design philosophy with crisp, compelling energy.

"The conceptual inspiration for The Urban Voyager was drawn from a surgeon. Through the structural lines of these garments, I wanted to capture the sheer power of an unwavering conviction..."