Chapter 401 Choice
Maintaining an indifferent tone that Sidney couldn't decipher, he calmly said, "Daddy needs to have a conversation with Grandma. You go home first." "But your wounds…" Sidney told his father. "It doesn't matter. The person who cared the most doesn't care about me anymore." Lawrence arrived at the hospital. Madam Rodriguez was still awake, tilting her head back with a cotton swab to stop the bleeding. When she saw her son, she complained, "These doctors are too nervous. It's just a nosebleed, and yet they called you." Lawrence remained silent, sitting by her bedside, and tightly holding her hand. He asked carefully, "Are you feeling, all right? Any discomfort? Any headache?" The elderly lady smiled and replied, "I feel a little dizzy, and I had a bit of nausea at lunch. It's strange, though. Wasn't I recovering from the organ transplant? Why would I have a nosebleed? But don't worry, once my organs are fully healed in a few months, I can leave the hospital, right?" Lawrence fell silent, unable to hide his uneasiness and sorrow. Keeping his thin lips tightly pressed, he nodded and said, "Yes, you will certainly get better." "Only when I'm better can I care for a grandchild for you. The first two darlings didn't have a chance, but I'll make it with the next ones," Madam Rodriguez said, attempting to lighten his mood, unaware that she had touched upon the most sensitive topic for him tonight. Lawrence took a slow deep breath to regain his shattered emotions, but before he could speak, Madam Rodriguez's nose started to bleed again, instantly staining the cotton swab red. The man's already reddened eyes filled with panic as he called out, "Dr. Moore!" After a chaotic round of first aid, Madam Rodriguez fell into a dazed sleep. Lawrence stood stoically outside the hospital room, gazing heavily at his mother through the window. Dr. Moore stood beside him, speaking cautiously yet failing to mask his anxiety. "Once the nosebleed starts, it indicates that the condition is worsening. Madam Rodriguez's bone marrow can no longer produce blood. If we continue like this, she will soon develop other complications. Mr. L, how did your conversation with the donor go? I ran Madam Rodriguez's blood tests again tonight, and her red blood cell count and platelet levels are rapidly decreasing. She must start receiving blood transfusions to prolong her life. It would be best if we arrange it within this month, so we can stabilize her body with continuous transfusions without causing serious complications. After careful adjustment for six months, we can proceed with the bone marrow transplant, and she will be able to survive." Lawrence took a deep breath, pressing his temple with his hand. He never expected it to happen so soon. Witnessing his mother's nosebleed and the need for urgent intervention shook him to his core. Dr. Moore's words severed the remaining thread of hope in his mind. His mouth, tense and rigid, managed to utter, "I understand." Dr. Moore was unsure of what Lawrence's "understood" meant. He sighed and said, "Madam Rodriguez is getting older, and time waits for no one. We've found a suitable Rh-negative blood globally, and you really can't afford to lose it."
Lawrence furrowed his brow, waving his hand to indicate that he didn't want to hear any more.
Half an hour later, Jeremy and Benjamin found Lawrence in a booth at the bar, with three empty bottles of vodka before him. The lights in the bar cast vibrant colors on his handsome face. Benjamin frowned and hesitated to snatch the wine glass from his long, slender fingers. "Mr. L, your wound is still oozing blood. Alcohol could lead to an infection." "Why do women become so heartless, cutting off and withdrawing whenever they please?" Lawrence muttered coldly. Benjamin and Jeremy exchanged helpless glances, observing Mr. L's drunken and confused state. It was surprising to see such a stern and distant man expressing deep emotions and sadness like this. Benjamin caught wind of a rumor and couldn't help but comment, "Winnie has every right to be angry at you because of Darcy and Oscar. Mr. L, your quest to win back your ex-wife is far from over. You can't be discouraged by a few harsh words from her. To regain her trust, you need to be shameless, use any means necessary, and persist relentlessly." Lawrence tugged at his lips; his eyes filled with coldness. "I tried, but I missed the chance she gave me. She told me to stop daydreaming, which crushed my hopes. With icy resolve, she insisted on separation—you would understand if you saw it." A bitter smile and heartache silenced Benjamin, pondering if Winnie had been hurt too deeply. Jeremy furrowed his brow and said, "Winnie is angrier because of the misunderstandings caused by those photos. Mr. L, you're not really a scoundrel. Why would you go on a date with a young girl at a time like this? What's going on?" Lawrence was at a loss for words. He had no intention of revealing his mother's illness and didn't want Winnie to hear any rumors. "It's just a misunderstanding," he helplessly muttered. Jeremy looked sharply at him, sensing that he was hiding something. He knew Lawrence's love for Winnie was unwavering, and under normal circumstances, Lawrence wouldn't entertain the company of other women. However, Darcy was an exception, having deceived him three years ago, when she appeared as a ray of light during his darkest period. "Who is that woman? If it's a misunderstanding, avoid her," Jeremy said. Lawrence sighed deeply, a bitter smile on his face. "I'm afraid it's not possible." Then, he collapsed onto the table, intoxicated. No matter how hard Benjamin and Jeremy tried to pull him away, they couldn't. He kept drunkenly calling out, "Winnie, Winnie," each word stubbornly grinding against his teeth. Eventually, the cries turned into murmurs, as if he were a heartbroken person unwilling to lose the most precious thing. He seemed burdened with sorrows and consumed with sadness, verging on the edge of madness. Jeremy and Benjamin couldn't help but feel sympathy and confusion, wondering what had happened to Mr. L. Tonight, it felt like a final farewell. In the end, Lawrence vomited until he lost consciousness, poisoned by alcohol, and was taken to the hospital. Such a strong man unexpectedly crumbled. Benjamin couldn't bear it and secretly made a call to Winnie. After a long busy tone, a hoarse voice of a woman came through. "Benjamin, what do you want?" "It's me, Winnie. I'm drunk..." Lawrence stared at the IV drip, weakly wishing he could tell her he was in the hospital, his subdued voice filled with nostalgia. But before the nostalgia could be conveyed, the woman hung up without hesitation. In the final second, he still heard Rock's cheerful voice. "Don't worry too much, my teeth aren't knocked out. Check again if you're not confident." At that moment, Lawrence's blood ran cold. His achy body could no longer feel pain, only the coldness of the IV drip as it entered his veins, drop by drop, until it reached his heart. The coldness sent shivers down his spine, mocking his nostalgia. A self-mocking smile slowly formed at the corner of his mouth as he lay in the hospital, feeling neglected while she took care of Rock's "wound" at home. Perhaps it was not just anger or idle threats, but rather Winnie's genuine resolve to initiate a new relationship. Lawrence couldn't deny that Winnie's unwillingness to reconcile was indeed the truth, nor could he overlook the truth of letting himself give up hope. With a heavy heart, Lawrence resigned himself to this reality before releasing his frustration in a fierce motion, slamming his phone forcefully against the wall. Observing the shattered phone in silence, trembling, Benjamin contemplated whether he had unintentionally caused trouble. "Don't disturb me; let me rest," Lawrence hoarsely spoke. Benjamin and Jeremy had no other choice but to leave, not daring to protest. The emergency room door slowly closed behind them as they left. Lawrence gazed at the deepening moonlight to the west. It was already early summer, but his eyes remained in the depths of winter, carrying a hint of cynicism. It didn't matter anymore. He picked up his phone and dialed a number he remembered from the hospital office today. The man's deep and hoarse voice came through as he said, "Miss, I agree to your request... we can discuss the details tomorrow." As the call ended, he closed his eyes in a desponded manner.
Winnie didn't accept him and she had personally put an end to it. It doesn't matter if he was with another woman. None of them were her. As painful as it was to lose Winnie, the thought of losing his mother was unbearable, for there was no replacing her. - Late at night, Ishara answered the phone, pausing for a moment. Not having fallen asleep, she curled up her lips. "Claire, he agreed to my terms."
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