Chapter 188: Insane Doctor
Oliver Baxter didn’t so much as blink under the weight of her piercing question. Instead, he simply adjusted the thin silver frames of his glasses with a single, precise flick of his index finger, his expression remaining maddeningly placid.
"I am hiding nothing," Oliver stated smoothly, his voice as sharp and clinical as a scalpel. "When I realized you were the distributor, I placed an automated query across every high-tier emergency, neurological, and private transport network operating within the upper sector. Your name—or rather, a sudden transport order linked to your exact physical biometric signature—flagged on the private facility’s intake system less than thirty minutes ago."
Xavier’s dark eyes narrowed into two dangerous, icy points. His broad frame shifted forward an inch, an oppressive, suffocating aura radiating from his body. "You breached my facility’s encrypted intake server?"
"I bypassed a rudimentary firewall to track a patient of interest," Oliver corrected without a single shred of remorse or fear. He continued, using jargons that the normal period wouldn’t understand immediately. "Your cybersecurity protocol is robust for corporate espionage, Xavier Reed, but remarkably predictable for medical logistics. Once I saw the biometric match, I simply drove here and waited at the front doors."
But fortunately, he wasn’t dealing with normal people.
"You’ve got a real habit of sticking your nose where it gets snapped off, doc," Nat growled, stepping past April. He leaned down slightly, his looming frame casting a long, sinister shadow over the surgeon.
Nat’s eyes burned behind his dark shades, his hand resting casually inside his coat pocket—undoubtedly hovering over a weapon. "I don’t care how many genius awards you’ve got framed in your office. If you cross the line with her, I won’t just break your hands. I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again."
Oliver finally turned his head to look Nat dead in the eye. But the surgeon’s pulse didn’t even spike.
"Threats of physical violence are statistically ineffective on individuals driven by empirical discovery, Nat Collins," Oliver replied flatly, still spilling jargons. "You may shoot me if it satisfies your volatile temperament, but it will not alter the scientific reality of that water. Now, if you are quite finished posturing, I have notes to take."
Nat let out a dark, disbelief-filled chuckle, shaking his head. "This bastard is genuinely insane."
Great. One more insane person to add to the list.
Beside them, Alexander leaned closer to Samuel, whispering out of the corner of his mouth. "Is it just me, or does this doctor have a literal death wish? He just talked back to the Golden Dragon like he was reading a grocery list."
"He is entirely devoid of self-preservation instincts when research is involved," Samuel murmured back, adjusting his glasses. "Which makes him remarkably dangerous, yet surprisingly predictable."
April let out a slow, heavy breath, her patience wearing thin. She didn’t have the time or energy to deal with a mad scientist, an underworld lord, and a corporate tycoon locking horns on the steps of a private hospital.
"Enough," April’s voice cut through the air like a sheet of ice, sharp and commanding.
The entire group went dead silent.
April turned her unblinking gaze onto Oliver. "You want to observe? Fine. Stand behind the glass, keep your mouth shut, and do not touch a single thing. If you take one step out of line, I won’t let Nat shoot you—I’ll personally make sure you forget how to use a pencil. And trust me, I am more than capable."
For the first time since he had arrived, a tiny, almost microscopic flicker of genuine intrigue flashed behind Oliver’s silver-rimmed glasses. He gave a single, rigid bow of his head. "Acceptable terms."
Without wasting another second, April turned away from the entrance and stepped through the sliding glass doors into the pristine, quiet interior of the private medical facility.
Xavier and Nat fell into step directly on both sides of her, acting as two towering, protective walls of muscle and authority, while Samuel and Alexander followed closely behind. Oliver Baxter trailed at a strict, three-pace distance, his tablet already active as his fingers tapped out rapid clinical observations.
They navigated the sterile, white-tiled corridors of the upper floor until they reached the heavy double doors of the private intensive recovery suite.
Samuel stepped forward, swiping his master keycard. The doors hissed open smoothly, revealing a quiet, dimly lit room filled with the steady, rhythmic hum of heart monitors and soft medical equipment.
Resting on the wide hospital bed in the center of the room was Emily.
Her pale face was framed by brown hair, her breathing deep, steady, and quiet under the influence of mild sedatives.
The violent, ugly purple rope burn around her throat had completely vanished—smoothed away into flawless, pale skin thanks to the Revitalization Water April had forced down her throat the night before.
April stopped a few feet from the edge of the bed.
She stared down at the sleeping woman—at the identical brow, the identical nose, the identical curve of her jaw. Looking at Emily was like staring into an alternate mirror. She just couldn’t get used to it.
The room fell into an absolute, respectful silence. Even Oliver stopped tapping his tablet, standing quietly near the back wall as his sharp eyes analyzed the sleeping woman’s vital monitors, instantly recognizing that there was not a single hitch in her pulse monitor.
She was well, so why was she in the hospital? He wondered. Psychological reasons, I assume. He thought as he took a brief note quietly.
April slowly reached out her hand. Her fingers hovered over Emily’s pale arm for a brief, hesitating second before gently coming to rest against her sister’s cool skin.
With unblinking eyes, she watched Emily’s chest rise and fall. They tried to erase us, starve us, and break us into dust. But we somehow survived in this cruel world. But I don’t even know if yours is worth celebrating. Once you open your eyes, will it be grief you feel or relief at the fall of your enemies?
Beside her, Xavier’s dark gaze rested gently on April’s profile, his hand hovering near her back to offer a steadying, silent anchor if she needed it, while Nat stood near the foot of the bed, his eyes scanning the room with lethal vigilance.
April took a quiet, steadying breath, her composure completely returning, cold and impenetrable as she straightened her spine.
"Where’s the doctor in charge of her?" April murmured softly.
"Right here." The physician stepped forward from where he was standing right next to the monitor and April glanced at him.
"I want to talk to her. Can you wake her up?"