The Real Heiress Is Coming Back (Hannah Carter) novel Chapter 81

Chapter 81

Chapter 81

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But as Barnaby’s primary physician, Percival had made his call, and they had no choice but to swallow their objections.

In the sterile quiet of the OR, Hannah’s eyes finally found Barnaby.

He was unconscious on the table, pale as a ghost, a stark contrast to the startling crimson of his lips.

The back of his hand, where the IV was taped down, was a mess of purple and green, littered with needle marks.

The man who usually commanded every room now looked fragile, almost ethereal.

Even in unconsciousness, his sharp brows were drawn together in a frown. Beneath his eyelids, his eyes darted restlessly as he was trapped in some terrible dream.

His heart rate and blood pressure were both dangerously low. This was worse than she’d imagined.

Her fingers came to rest gently between his furrowed brows. His skin was burning to the touch, a heat that seared straight into her heart.

“The fever is caused by an infected wound,” Percival explained. “We’ve administered antibiotics and antipyretics, but the response has been minimal.”

He watched Barnaby’s elevated temperature with growing concern. If this continued, even if they saved the leg, the neurological damage could be irreversible.

Hannah’s fingers gently smoothed the tension from Barnaby’s brow.

With practiced precision, she selected needles from her kit, identifying and targeting acupuncture points in one fluid

motion.

Within moments of needle placement, the strained expression on his face began to ease.

“Maintain the needle positions while we proceed with intubation. Prepare to begin the procedure,” Hannah directed as she assessed Barnaby’s condition, carefully removing the IV from his bruised hand.

“Okay,” Percival responded.

Though he hadn’t assisted in surgery for over five years, having long transitioned to leading operations himself, he found himself falling seamlessly into the supporting role.

What unfolded before him was nothing short of remarkable, the sophisticated integration of traditional acupuncture techniques within a complex surgical intervention.

Clad in green surgical attire, Hannah stood focused over the operating table. Her movements remained deliberate and steady, her complete attention devoted to the patient.

*****

Beyond the operating room, Magnus paced the sterile corridor. His measured steps carried him back and forth past the sealed doors, his gaze frequently lifting to check for any change,

The other physicians maintained their vigil nearby.

“Mr. Croft, perhaps we should notify the Thole family about Mr. Thole’s condition.” A man in his forties stepped forward, thick glasses framing his weary eyes, his scalp gleaming under the surgical lights.

This was Daniel Vance, whose receding hairline had become an unspoken legend among the medical staff.

Chapter 81

Barnaby was the former commander of the special ops unit “Warg,” and more critically, the younger brother to the patriarch of the foremost among the four great families.

Should the surgery fail, none of them wished to contemplate bearing responsibility for the death of a Thole.

“Not yet.” Magnus let the words hang in the air before adding with measured gravity, “Barnaby’s situation stays contained. Nothing leaves this room.”

He knew the politics all too well, how the Tholes circled like sharks around the shares Leopold had left Barnaby.

Should news of his incapacitation spread, every vulture would circle, devising ways to transfer those assets before they could default to charity.

Moreover, shadowy forces targeting The Scepter House, compounded by internal faction struggles, would inevitably trigger

chain reactions.

Barnaby’s injury simply could not become public knowledge.

“Got it,” the physicians responded in unison.

“But the surgical consent forms…” Daniel hesitated before producing the unsigned documents. “Shouldn’t they be authorized by Mr. Thole’s family?”

Given Barnaby’s unique circumstances, formal consent wasn’t strictly mandatory, but since Daniel wasn’t performing the procedure, he had no intention of assuming liability.

Magnus glanced at the documents, then at the physicians’ strained expressions, and understood.

They distrusted Hannah’s surgical capabilities, unwilling to become scapegoats for potential failure.

The realization kindled his irritation.

He said coldly, “Unnecessary. His family member is already in there with him. It’s Hannah.”

“His family?” Daniel’s jaw went slack.

The other doctors exchanged stunned looks. None had known Barnaby was married, least of all to someone who appeared barely of age.

Though burning with curiosity, not one dared voice the questions hanging thick in the air.

*****

The pitch-black night outside the window enveloped the entire world. The torment and anxiety of waiting felt like centuries, but finally, the break of dawn arrived.

In the operating room, beads of sweat glistened on Hannah’s smooth forehead. Her left hand moved steadily as she used a pair of forceps to clamp a bullet drenched in blood.

With a clatter, the bullet fell onto the metal tray, its sound unusually loud in the operating room, where only the hum of machines could be heard.

Percival’s eyes lit up, and an overwhelming sense of joy surged within him.

The surgery was a success, and all the data on the life monitor was normal.

He and a team of top surgeons had debated for over ten hours without landing on a viable approach.

Yet Hannah, after just a glance at the CT scans and a quick assessment of Barnaby, had stepped in and pulled it off.

Chapter 81

Suddenly, Percival thought of the Nameless Healer and felt that there was no longer any need to search for Barnaby. Hannah was the miracle doctor right before their eyes.

“Come here and close the incision,” Hannah said.

While Percival was suturing the wound, she applied a few more acupuncture needles to Barnaby.

Once the surgery concluded, Percival went to open the operating room door.

Hannah removed her gloves, gently stroked Barnaby’s check, and finally let out a sigh of relief.

His body was still warm, but the fever had subsided. The flushed redness of his lips had returned to their natural hue, and his expression was peaceful.

Apart from his still-pale complexion, he looked like a prince serenely asleep, waiting for his princess to wake him with a kiss.

Outside the operating room, Magnus saw the red surgery light turn off and immediately rushed to the door.

“How did it go?” he asked the moment the door opened.

Percival was the first to step out, his face showing the exhaustion that follows intense mental focus and subsequent relief.

Seeing his expression, the several doctors present felt their hearts sink, assuming the surgery had failed.

If Barnaby had died, their careers would have ended right there.

“Mr. Croft, I… I’m so sorry,” Daniel began, voice thick with guilt. “If I’d just stopped this last night, or insisted on being in there… Mr. Thole wouldn’t have…”

The other doctors shifted, unsure if they should join the chorus of apology.

“For God’s sake, stop it,” Percival cut him off, a tired edge to his voice. “No one’s dead. The surgery worked. We saved the leg.”

“Really?” blurted a man with a receding hairline, disbelief evident.

Percival didn’t bother to reply, simply turned back to help Hannah wheel Barnaby out.

The success of the surgery was undeniable, and the men who were hailed as master physicians couldn’t help but feel a sense of shame, having been thoroughly outdone by a young woman.

The doctors who had been hesitating just moments before immediately gave a respectful bow. “Mrs. Thole, that was incredible work. Thank you.”

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