Maybe it was another Desmond she doesn't know about. Though, her mind kept racing in thought. She turned quickly to face the nurse. Her lips slightly parted as if she were about to ask the obvious question... 'the Desmond who had once been her husband?'
But as quickly as the question formed in her mind, she quickly changed her mind and pushed it away. "No, it couldn’t be him."
There were plenty of people named Desmond. This had to be another person entirely. And even if it was the Desmond she knew, how would he have any kind of medical expertise? He wasn’t a doctor. He wasn’t a specialist. He's just a businessman. There was no way.
She chose not to ask. Instead, she crossed her arms tightly and tried to brush the thought away.
Dr. Maxwell, who was still standing by Sir Orton’s bedside, looked at the nurse with a skeptical expression, and his brows furrowed slightly. He had been a doctor for over two decades, and he wasn’t the type to accept suggestions lightly. Not in a situation that was that critical.
"How do you know that this person you are suggesting can actually handle this? You said he isn’t a doctor or a specialist, so why would I trust him with Sir Orton’s life?” The doctor asked the nurse, and she has her hands clasped together as she responded, “In the hospital where I first worked, I witnessed him help a patient who was in a very similar condition. At the time, none of the doctors were able to stabilize the patient, but he stepped in and handled it perfectly. It was incredible. He said he inherited the skill from his dad.”
“Even if he's a descendant of herbal doctors, it won't be enough to handle his case,” the doctor said bluntly. “I don’t believe in miracles or unexplained interventions. We are dealing with a man’s life, and I will not take unnecessary risks. We will wait for the specialist I called.”
Even though Anabel was still struggling to process her emotions, she felt herself tense at the doctor’s outright dismissal. They had already been told the specialist would take three hours to arrive, and her father was far too weak. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, like it was pulling him further and further away from them.
Still, Dr. Maxwell remained firm in his decision. “Sir Orton will be fine for the next three hours." He said as he adjusted the IV drip. “The machines are keeping him stable, and his vitals are being monitored. I understand the tension and urgency, but I cannot allow his body to be used for experimentation.”
The nurse frowned, and her lips pursed slightly before she spoke up. “Doctor, please,” she pressed. “I wouldn’t suggest something that I didn’t trust completely. You don’t have to believe me, but I know this man can help. He can handle this case without stress." She urged, but Dr. Maxwell shook his head in disagreement. “This isn’t about trust. It’s about medical science. We do not guess when it comes to treatment. We use experience, study, and careful precision. I cannot—and will not—allow someone without proper credentials or a doctorate certificate to intervene in such a delicate case.”
The nurse sighed, knowing that the doctor would never listen to her. She was clearly frustrated but unwilling to argue further. “Alright, doctor,” she finally gave up, lowering her gaze. “I understand. Let's wait for your trusted doctor."
Anabel remained silent, not knowing what to say. All she wanted was for her dad to be okay. Even Jethro, who had been trying his best to keep his composure, now looked slightly unsettled.
Dr. Maxwell nodded, then turned back to Sir Orton, checking his vitals again. The machines continued their rhythmic beeping. Anabel exhaled tiredly. She had her gaze settled on her father’s pale face. The fear in her heart was growing. Three hours was a long time. And she wasn’t sure he had that long to stay.