Chapter 957
Her face was ashen, lips utterly drained of color. She looked as if she were lost in a sleep so deep that nothing could reach her.
“Mavis, don’t be afraid. I’m here.” Calliope set her bag down and hurried to the bedside, taking Mavis’s hand in hers. Her skin was burning with fever, her breathing shallow and almost imperceptible. The readouts on the monitors offered no comfort —her life seemed so fragile, as if it could slip away at any moment.
Calliope’s heart twisted with worry and pity. “Mavis, you idiot,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What were you thinking, throwing yourself in front of him like that?” Her eyes darted over to Uriah, and the glare she gave him was sharp enough to cut.
Standing there, Uriah looked like a schoolboy caught red-handed-head hung low, cheeks gone pale, shame and anxiety written all over his face. He wanted to ask if Calliope had any way to save Mavis, but the words stuck in his throat. He didn’t have the nerve. Deep down, he knew Calliope’s fear and urgency ran even deeper than his own.
Calliope wasted no time. She checked Mavis’s pulse, firing off questions to the team of doctors, asking for updates and pressing for every scan and test result they’d gathered in the last few days.
The medical team-some local, some brought in from abroad-each wore an air of professionalism, but it was clear Calliope’s reputation preceded her. As she started her questioning, several of them paused, exchanging uncertain looks. Uriah had promised them a world-class specialist, a miracle worker. None of them expected her to be so young-a vision of sharp, radiant beauty that felt almost too striking for a hospital ward.
Doubt flickered in their eyes. Was this really the renowned doctor they’d been
waiting for? Someone so young and, frankly, stunning—could she possibly handle a case this dire?
But with Uriah present, none of them dared voice their skepticism. They briefed Calliope on Mavis’s condition and handed over the charts.
Calliope skimmed the data, sharp eyes absorbing every detail. “There’s clear evidence of poisoning-the bullet wound is dangerous, but not necessarily fatal. If we’re careful, we can remove it.” Her tone shifted, irritation coloring her words. “But the infection is severe too severe. With the resources you’ve got here, there’s simply no excuse for it to have gotten this bad. What on earth happened p>
A few of the doctors colored under her anger. Where just moments ago they’d doubted her, now, under her fierce scrutiny their confidence wiffed Heads lowered, no one dared defend their mistakes. There was a commanding weight to her, a presence that needed no
explanation.
Calliope didn’t hold back-she laid into them, explaining exactly where they’d gone wrong, how things should have been handled differently from the start. The doctors stood transfixed in shock, the realization slowly dawning that her methods were indeed a league above their own. The approach had been crude by comparison, and that
miscalculation had put Mavis in greater danger. None could question her expertise now.
“The situation’s stable for the moment,” Calliope said at last. “Get everything ready -we’re operating immediately. I want you as my assistants.” She brushed her hair back and took a steadying breath. “I just need to shower first p>
She’d come straight from her journey, exhausted and still reeling from the aftereffects of too many drinks on the ferry. She needed a moment to clear her head, to shed the fatigue and be ready for what was to come.
“We’ll get everything set up right away,” one of the doctors replied.
Uriah visibly relaxed for the first time, hope flickering in his eyes as Calliope took charge.
He instructed the others to prepare for surgery, then led Calliope to a room where she could get cleaned up and ready to fight for Mavis’s life.