Chapter 17
Julian gave a derisive snort. “We stay to take care of you and you’re eager to chase us off. Perfect-then you can play the victim later and say we never cared whether you lived or died.”
A dull ache throbbed in Elena’s chest.
Fine words: they claimed to be looking after her, yet when she truly needed help, not a soul could be found.
Adaline scolded, “Julian, how can you speak to your sister that way? Elena, the doctor says you must be admitted, and someone has to stay with you. I’ll remain so I can keep an eye on things.”
Annie chimed in, “Elena’s suffered so much-I’ll stay, too. If I hadn’t come home, none of this would’ve happened. I’ll look after her until she’s discharged.”
Elena said nothing more, she simply closed her eyes.
When the IV finished, a nurse wheeled Elena off for the gastroscopy while the family waited outside the operating room.
Roughly ten minutes later, a doctor strode out, removed his mask, and asked gravely, “Who is Elena Bennett’s family?”
Adaline sprang up. “Here! All of us are here. What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“The patient’s blood pressure fluctuated during anesthesia. It’s critical, but we’re doing everything we can. I do need a relative’s signature on this notice of critical condition.”
Adaline’s face drained of color. “What did you say?”
Julian barked, “A critical notice? Impossible-my sister can’t—”
“Annie!” Adaline suddenly cried, cutting him off.
Julian whirled around to see Annabelle collapsing into their mother’s arms.
He bolted toward her, the doctor’s words forgotten.
“Annie!”
Adaline turned frantic eyes on the doctor. “Doctor, please-save my daughter!”
The doctor frowned. “Ladies and gentlemen, the patient inside is—”
Julian’s shout sliced him off. “Treat my sister first! Didn’t you hear me?”
The doctor’s expression darkened. “I can’t help her.”
Without another word, Julian swept Annabelle into his arms and sprinted toward the emergency room.
Adaline hurried after him.
The doctor, seeing every relative depart, grabbed Lawrence Bennett, who was last out the door. “Wait-what about the patient in the operating room?”
Lawrence snarled, “Is this the time for chatter? Do whatever you have to. If anything happens to my daughter, I’ll bring this whole hospital down!”
Without another word, Lawrence Bennett broke into a brisk stride and hurried after the departing figure.
That particular “daughter” was obviously not the one stretched out in the operating room; Dr. Harris cast a helpless glance at the critical-condition notice crumpled in his fist.
Dr. Hamis crushed the form into a tight ball anu vaikeu,
Operating Room.
After a frenzied round of resuscitation, Elena Bennett’s monitors finally leveled out. She drifted into consciousness beneath the blinding lights and the stifling stench of disinfectant, the hushed gossip of nurses brushing past her ears.
Che nurse whispered, “This poor girl-bruises everywhere. Who knows what kind of abuse she’s been through.”
The other scoffed, “Forget it-she was already marked critical, and all three ‘relatives’ bolted the second their other daughter fainted. Family? Yeah, right.”
