We Died So He Could Love Chapter 04

We Died So He Could Love Chapter 04

The psychiatric clinic was in the suburbs, and the roads were clear at first.

But as soon as we hit the city, we ran into a wall of traffic.

Preston laid on the horn, but the line of cars ahead didn’t budge.

He threw the door open and ran forward, shouting as he went.

“Fuck! I have a patient in my car! Who’s blocking the road?”

Several bodyguards in black suits had sealed off the entire intersection, letting no one through.

Preston exploded. He stormed up and jabbed a finger at one of them.

“Who gave you the right to block the whole road? This isn’t your private driveway!”

The men stood their ground, unmoving.

Just as Preston was about to start swinging, a man who looked to be in charge hurried over.

“Mr. Preston, my apologies. I’m so sorry.”

“My men didn’t know any better. I’ll have them clear a path immediately.”

Preston frowned as he watched them open the road, then turned back to his car.

He was in too much of a hurry to hear the man whirl on his subordinates.

“Do you have any idea who you just stopped? That was Preston.”

“His family is even more powerful than the Vitales. Keep your eyes open from now on. Don’t go looking for trouble.”

The bodyguards froze.

“We had no idea he was that important.”

By the time Preston got back to the car, I had already passed out.

Seeing my breathing grow shallow, he slammed on the gas and raced toward the hospital.

When we arrived, Preston carried me into the emergency department, but the lobby was eerily empty.

“What the hell is going on today? Where are all the doctors?”

“Doctor! Somebody get over here!”

He didn’t dare put me down, afraid I would die in his arms the moment he let go.

Just then, several doctors hurried down from the upper floors.

The man in the lead was shouting,

“Hurry, find a compatible donor. Her reconstructive surgery needs to start now!”

When the head of emergency saw me in Preston’s arms, he stopped short.

“No need to look.”

He strode over.

“Sir, how did she sustain such severe injuries?”

Preston looked as though he’d found a lifeline.

“I don’t know. I found her like this at a psychiatric clinic. Just save her, now.”

“Of course, we’ll take it from here.”

“But her condition is critical. Please sign this emergency medical consent form first.”

Preston didn’t even glance at it before signing his name.

He couldn’t afford to waste a second.

Several doctors placed me on a gurney.

The movement jostled my wounds, and the pain jolted me awake.

When I opened my eyes and saw the white coats, I felt a last shred of hope. I grabbed the doctor’s sleeve.

“Doctor… I don’t want to die… and I don’t want my baby to die… please save us…”

He didn’t answer. He just drew my blood.

I thought he was simply in a hurry, but in the next second, he picked up a scalpel and cut straight into my private area.

I struggled wildly, but he still sliced me open.

“Dr. Miller, she’s a match!” the nurse beside him suddenly shouted.

The doctor’s face broke into a relieved smile.

“Wonderful. Wonderful. My career isn’t over after all.”

“You, my dear, are my savior.”

“The tissue Mr. Vitale wanted has delivered itself right to my door.”

Mr. Vitale.

The name hit me like a physical blow.

In New York, who else commanded that kind of deference but Kieran?

“If we’d been any later, I might have lost my own life.”

“Mr. Vitale’s partner has severe perineal tearing. She wants a complete reconstruction.”

“But who would willingly donate tissue from that part of their own body?”

Every word was a knife in my heart.

I couldn’t believe Kieran would go this far for Carla.

There wasn’t a single place on my body that didn’t ache.

A few minutes later, my blood pressure suddenly cratered.

The numbers on the heart monitor plummeted until, finally, they flatlined.

But no one in the room stopped what they were doing.

They simply placed the tissue harvested from my body into a temperature-controlled container and wheeled me to the morgue.

An hour later, Carla’s surgery was over.

When she was wheeled out of the operating room, Kieran was pacing the corridor.

“Carla, how are you?”

Carla just shook her head weakly and was taken to the VIP ward.

Kieran tried to follow, but the doctor stopped him, explaining that she needed to be observed and couldn’t have visitors yet.

Seeing that Carla, though weak, was finally out of danger, he breathed a sigh of relief.

But his mind was still in turmoil.

Only then did he remember that I was still locked up.

He pressed his fingers to his temple and called his assistant.

“Let Blythe out.”

Half an hour later, his assistant called back, his voice trembling.

“Sir… our people… found Mrs. Vitale in the hospital morgue.”