Chapter Ninety-one Estera Roberts’ POV (Present Time)

“Dr. Roberts?” Cole’s voice sounded from behind me and I glanced back over my shoulders. I had just finished my second operation of the day and was in the doctors’ lounge having lunch with Ashley, Ameera and Meredith. Ashley was recounting her encounter with a rude patient which got us all laughing and the smile was still on my face when I turned to gaze into Cole’s face. And as soon as I met his gaze, my heart lunged in the wall of my chest and I swallowed. The smile wiped off my face.
“Is something wrong?” I asked. My first thought went to Evan. I had been trying to suppress the fear of the knowledge that Evan had gone to have a meeting with someone who was capable of ordering the death of another human being. And who could as well want us all dead now? But I suppose the reprieve was over. I placed the cup in my hand down and stood up, wiping my palms down the sides of my green scrubs. “Please, tell me he is fine … ” I said, walking up to him. He nodded.
“He is fine. He is wounded though,” he replied.
“Where is he?”
“In your office. We have quite a situation,” he said. I nodded.
“Let’s go,” I said.
“Estie?” Ameera called. I turned around to face my friends.
“We are here if you need us … ” she said. I nodded my thanks.
“For anything … ” Ashley said.
“Count me in too … ” Meredith interjected.
“Thank you. All of you,” I said.
“Doctor Rasheed, I believe you would like to have this case. A patient with no history of a heart attack or partial paralysis of any kind suddenly slumps. He is in room 102. The new private ward on the first floor,” Cole said, passing a file to Ameera. She took it from him opened the file and raised widened gaze at him. “Take Doctor Benjamin and Nurse Meredith with you…” Cole added.
“Y - Yes, of course, Doctor Foster,” Ameera replied and I could see she was doing her best not to meet my gaze.
“Doctor Roberts—” Cole prompted and left the doorway. I hurriedly followed him, darting a questioning glance at Ameera and then Ashley. Ashley shrugged. I rushed after Cole trying to match his long strides.
“Who is in room 102?” I asked, sounding a bit breathless.
“Doctor Rasheed’s patient,” he replied in his usual superior tone. I rolled my eyes.
“Fine, be that way—” I muttered, thinking to get the information out of my friends later. “How badly wounded is Evan?” I asked in a quiet tone, and whatever Cole denoted from it, made him let out a sigh and reached for my hand, interlacing his strong ones with mine. His hand against mine felt warm.
“He is fine. He is not the problem,” he replied in a gentler tone. The reply brought a frown to my face and so did the path he led me to. We were not heading to my office where he said Evan was but to the operating ward. He lowered his dark intense gaze at me when my fingers tightened against his. “You need to be strong,” he added. My heart picked up pace. I swallowed.
A minute later, we headed down the corridor leading to one of the operating rooms and I could see six of our surgical team doctors already at the door with the hospital director all dressed in green scrubs. They all look solemn. And two, tall, muscular men in black pants, and white office shirts, stood further down the hallway away from the medical team. They both assessed me with keen gazes as we approached and I wondered who they were. I released a shaky breath, nodding my greetings to my colleagues.
Without stopping to acknowledge the rest of the team, Cole ushered me inside the washroom and he didn’t let go of my hand until we stood in front of the washing basin. He nodded at me as he took one of the operating aprons hung on the hanging hook mounted to the sidewall, and helped me to wear it over my scrubs while I strapped on my surgical N95 respirator. He picked one for himself and I helped to tie it at the back while he quickly adorned other surgical protective gears. We were both already wearing a bouffant, and Cole’s glasses hung around his neck.
He then walked to the washing basin to pick up a bar of soap from the sink and started to wash his hands. I immediately imitated the act.
“Who are those men?” I said in a low tone. My curiosity was quite palpable.
“Security—” Cole replied in a mysterious tone. I sighed, thinking it may be a new high-profile patient. That would explain the reason for security and the director’s presence, but why Cole was tightlipped about it was beyond me.
“Who are we operating on?” I asked.
“You will see…” he said and I glared at him as he shook off his hands, holding them up. He grinned and leaned forward to press a kiss on my forehead. I rolled my eyes. He chuckled, drawing back.
A small smile quirked the side of my lips. Despite the two of us agreeing to keep our relationship platonic, I knew on his part he was still fighting his attraction for me. I figured he sometimes loses the reins on his emotions and subconsciously reacts to me as if we were still a couple. And because I knew he would never deliberately cross the line with me, I let him and even found it cute. I bit down on my lower lip, thinking to tease him about it much later. He caught me staring at him and arched an eyebrow at me. I shrugged noncommittally, fighting down a giggle, realizing he might not even be aware of his actions.
He strode to the swinging door, pushed it open with his shoulders, and held it open for me. I nodded my thanks and walked outside, holding my hands up.
The others parted ways for us to take the lead and we all entered the operating room together. My eyes settled on Mary Antoinette’s ashen face and then the other two still bodies on the other operating tables drew my attention. I swallowed a gasp. Anastasia Dallas was in the hospital bed next to her daughter. Her left shoulder was covered with a bandage that was now soaked with blood.
Antony Dallas had a ball pen stuck to his neck and was bleeding on the operating table. And they all had oxygen masks attached to their faces. I swallowed and my heartbeat accelerated. Cole came to stand beside me and I knew why he hadn’t told me who we were operating on.
“If these two are like this, are you sure Evan’s wound isn’t serious?” I asked, clenching my jaw. Then it occurred to me that Cole may be hiding more than the identities of my patients. Perhaps Evan was the patient in room 102! The one who he said collapsed with no prior underlining conditions. My heart lunged and I jerked my face up to hold his gaze. My eyes darted hurriedly in their sockets. Cole shook his head, silently replying to my silent query.
“Evan is fine, Roberts. He is even planning to pick up the boys later. Anastasia Dallas shot him in the upper arm, grazing his triceps, I attended to him myself. I promise you, he is fine. He, however, told me it was an accident,” Cole replied in a low, husky tone. I nodded, noting the sincerity in his tone and the earnestness in his attractive eyes.
“Did Evan confirm if Antony was responsible for my parents’ death?”
“Yes, Antony Dallas’s bodyguard, Gaius, did cause their accident. But it wasn’t Antony that sent him,” he said, I turned a puzzled gaze at him. “It was his wife, Anastasia Dallas,” he added, gesturing in Anastasia Dallas’s direction while he deftly put on a pair of latex gloves. A nurse offered me a pair in a tray. I nodded my thanks, took them and slipped them on. “He has been taken into custody. Evan and his lawyers are on it.”
“What is the situation here?” I asked in a shaky tone, knowing we were not alone I had to be strong despite what I just heard. Cole held my gaze and I saw him clench his jaw. It was evident he was worried about me but there was nothing he could do since we have an emergency surgery to perform and we were not alone.
“You already know what your patient, Mary Antoinette, needs. Antony Dallas's lungs have collapsed due to the stab wounds inflicted on him by his wife and it has affected his heart, causing hemodynamic collapse. There are limited blood flow to his organs and you know what that means. Anastasia Dallas has a bullet lodged in the left side of her chest and she already gave consent for her organ donation to her daughter…”
“Okay, thank you, Dr. Foster,” I said and moved closer to Mary Antoinette. I understood what Cole said, it was what he didn’t say that resounded in my head. He knew I have the power now to decide who lives and who dies. And it was a hell of a place to be. I don’t even think I wanted to go near Antony. He was a vile man and does not deserve a second chance but the thing was, whatever it was that I felt, or thought, I was a doctor first. And in this room, wearing these scrubs, my job was paramount.
“Doctor Foster, I need one kidney and liver from the male donor,” I said, assuming my role as the professional that I was.
“On it—” Cole replied.
“Doctor Yen, I’m performing a Laparotomy on my patient and I need replacements for her ovaries. Her cancer has spread and affected her lymph nodes in the pelvis, the bladder and the ureters. I need to replace, repair and reconstruct all affected organs.”
“Noted. You want the ovaries from the female donor, the bladder and lymph nodes—”
“Yes, please—” I replied, and continued to give instructions while I gestured to the nurse by my side to hand over a scalpel. She did so promptly. I made an incision from the center of Mary Antoinette's chest and all the way to her abdomen, opening her up. I was aware this was a very risky procedure and she might not make it, but I was prepared to do my damndest to make sure she did. If anyone deserves a second chance it was her.