Chapter 87
Stepping out into the chilled morning air, I overheard the nurses chatting animatedly. “Dr. Hilton’s been straight onto the operating table since dawn. Two surgeries back-to-back. They don’t call him the ‘Miracle Doctor’ for nothing. No one can snatch a life from his skilled hands.” “Absolutely. And today’s pile-up was horrific. I heard the Goodwin family’s darling, the jewel of their family, got caught up in it, too p>
Curious, I edged closer.
“Surface wounds, but her boyfriend seemed super stressed. Oh, right, her boyfriend’s the guy who was looking for Dr. Floyd last week p>
“So, the Goodwin’s ballet prodigy, who treated us to coffee the other day, is dating that legal eagle? Talk about a power couple. A dance sensation and a courtroom genius p>
“Dr. Floyd has some solid connections. No wonder she can swagger around Dr. Hilton like she owns the place p>
I looked down at my scuffed shoes, contrasting the high flyers they discussed. I had no influential backing for me, just a precarious existence.
Arriving at the ward with them, they finally noticed my presence, greeting me with a nod, which I returned softly. Peering briefly at Claude and Kate inside the room, they soon moved on, their gossip session over.
I remained outside, hands buried in my lab coat pockets, watching through the glass door. Claude was carefully tending to Kate’s wounds, his gentle touch making her seem even more precious. It was a sharp contrast to the routine treatment I received the previous night, even though I was also hurt.
“Claude, isn’t Mrs. Hart visiting you and Claire at home today? Maybe you should take Claire back. I’ll be fine here,” Kate suggested, pausing Claude’s ministrations.
“It’s okay. I’ll talk to Mom. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Claire’s reckless adventure yesterday. Thankfully, it’s just some scratches,” Claude reassured her. Kate bit her lip, silent. Was her concern genuine or just an act?
I was about to knock when Max appeared behind me, gripping my wrist. “Looking for more trouble p>
I stared back, puzzled by his
intervention, but instead of waiting for an answer, he pulled me back down the corridor toward his office, which drew curious glances from
the nursing staff.
I tried to wriggle free, but his grip was firm. Was he this desperate to keep me away from Claude and the others?
“I’ve been on my feet too long in
surgery. Help me with a new
dressing, Max finally said, a hint of
amusement in his voice, as if the
request was the most natural thing in the world. en
“Dr. Hilton, you do live up to your nickname, don’t you? Lie down. Wounded, you still performed surgeries ‘quipped, helping him
remove his coat and shirt while et
my
professionalism was battling with the awkwardness. If I werena doctor tasked with changing his dressing, I’d feel like I was taking
advantage of him.
As I unbuttoned his shirt, I subconsciously checked the hem but saw no initials. It looked like the Room 6088 I was talking about wasn’t the same Room 6088 he was referring to. After replacing the dressing, I packed all the used materials in a black bag to dispose of them discreetly.
“You got feelings for Claude?” Fastening his cuffs, Max paused, a slight tilt to his head as he asked, the air charged with unspoken thoughts.