Chapter 665 Gunshot Wound
"Is that so? Then let's settle this ourselves." Michael suddenly pulled out a handgun, aiming it right between George's eyes. "You messed with my woman and kid. Today's your last day."
"No!" Without thinking, Emma stepped in front of George.
Michael's hand trembled slightly. "Emma! I let him go once before. This time, I can't let him off!"
"No!" Emma pushed down Michael's arm holding the gun and whispered in his ear, "I won't let him die in front of me! Michael, I'm laying it all out for you! I love him. If you want to kill him, you'll have to kill me first!"
Her voice was so soft that George didn't hear it, but to Michael, it was like a bomb going off. His face turned ghostly pale, and the veins on his hand bulged as he gripped the gun tightly. "What did you say?"
George looked at Emma, confused, not knowing what she had said to Michael that caused such a drastic change in his expression.
The gun wavered violently in Michael's hand, his eyes filled with a storm of destructive madness. "Emma, you're forcing my hand."
The gunshot rang out, and Emma shielded George, but George pushed her aside and took the bullet himself. Blood quickly soaked through his white shirt.
"George!" Emma screamed, rushing to him.
"Doctor! Help him!" Emma knelt on the floor, pressing her hands against George's bleeding wound. His warm blood soaked through her hospital gown, staining her trembling fingers red.
Medical staff rushed into the room, but Michael raised his hand to stop them. "Nobody move!"
"Michael!" Emma looked up, her eyes filled with despair and anger. "Are you going to watch him die?"
Michael sneered, his eyes swirling with a crazed hatred. "He should have died a long time ago."
"Fine. Very well." Emma looked at the unconscious George, then suddenly grabbed a pair of surgical scissors from nearby and held them to her own stomach. "Then I'll send your child to join him!"
The cold glint of the scissors stung Michael's eyes. He suddenly remembered Celeste... the woman who had loved him deeply and protected their child, but ultimately couldn't save them.
Now, even Emma was using their child to threaten him.
"Don't you dare!" Michael's voice was hoarse and terrifying.
"Watch me!" Emma's scissors had already cut through her hospital gown, a thin line of blood appearing on her skin.
Michael's fists clenched tightly, and he finally forced out a sentence through gritted teeth. "Save him."
The medical staff finally moved in, quickly starting emergency treatment.
"Blood pressure is dropping!"
"He's losing too much blood. We need a transfusion immediately!"
"The bullet grazed the edge of his heart. We need to operate right away!"
The doctors' urgent conversations made Emma's whole body go cold. The lead doctor removed his mask, his face grave. "Ms. Stuart, Mr. Russell's injuries are too severe. Our hospital's facilities are limited. We need to transfer him to the Royal Hospital immediately."
"Then transfer him!" Emma grabbed the doctor's arm.
The doctor glanced at Michael with difficulty. "Royal Hospital requires special connections to get in."
Emma turned to Michael, her eyes filled with a last glimmer of hope. "You can help, can't you?"
Michael leaned against the wall, watching everything coldly. "Why should I save someone who tried to kill me?"
Emma's tears fell to the floor.
Right, why should he?
She could give her life for George, but why should Michael?
Time ticked by, and George's face grew paler. The numbers on the monitor kept dropping, the alarm beeping shrilly.
"There's no time." The doctor shook his head. "If we delay any longer..."
Emma knelt at Michael's feet, clutching his pant leg. "Please. If you save him, I'll do anything you want."
Michael looked down at her, his eyes filled with pain and anger. "For him, you're willing to give up your dignity?"
"Yes!" Emma lifted her tear-streaked face. "I can give up my dignity, my life, as long as you save him!"
Michael's pupils contracted violently.
He remembered Celeste begging him, too.
But what had he done back then?
At that critical moment, the door to the room was suddenly thrown open.
"Move aside!"
A tall figure strode in, a black trench coat billowing, long hair flowing behind a face that was both unfamiliar and somewhat familiar... Primrose.
She didn't even glance at Michael, going straight to George's bedside to check his injuries. "Prepare for transfer to Royal Hospital."
The doctor looked at Michael with difficulty. "But..."
"No buts." Primrose efficiently removed unnecessary tubes from George. "The ambulance is already downstairs."
Michael finally snapped out of it, his face dark as he blocked her. "Who gave you permission..."
Primrose shot him a look, cutting him off decisively. "Move."
Before Michael could react, Primrose was already directing the medical staff to lift George onto a stretcher. She skillfully placed an oxygen mask on him, quickly issuing orders:
"Prepare O-negative blood, at least 2000cc."
"Contact Dr. Black at Royal Hospital. Tell him Celeste needs him."
"Notify the OR to prepare ECMO."
Emma watched in a daze until Primrose stood in front of her. "You, stay here."
"But..."
"Don't worry, I won't let him die."
With that, she followed the stretcher out without looking back.
Michael stood there as if struck by lightning, his eyes fixed on the direction Primrose had gone, her words echoing in his mind. "Contact Dr. Black at Royal Hospital. Tell him Celeste needs him."
"Celeste. It really is you." Michael murmured, a flash of excitement in his eyes. He turned abruptly and strode out.
At the hospital entrance, Primrose was directing the medical staff to load George into the ambulance. Her movements were swift and decisive, her tone calm and commanding, nothing like the lively and sweet Celeste of the past.
"Celeste!" Michael grabbed her wrist, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "Is it really you?"
Primrose, or rather Celeste, coldly shook off his hand. "Let go."
Michael refused to release her, his eyes burning as he stared at her face. "You didn't die. Why? What happened? Why didn't you come back to me?"
Celeste laughed mockingly, her eyes full of sarcasm. "Come back to you?" She raised a hand to her face, her fingers tracing the features that no longer resembled her old self. "Michael, take a good look. Does this face still look like the Celeste you knew?"
Celeste's features were delicate but carried a cold, unfamiliar beauty. The gentle eyes of the past were now sharp and unyielding.
"You had plastic surgery?" His voice was hoarse. "Why?"
"Why?" Celeste laughed coldly. "You have the nerve to ask?" She stepped closer. "Everything I went through was because of you!"
Michael was pained by the hatred in her eyes, his heart feeling like it was being squeezed tightly. But his expression only further agitated Celeste, reminding her of the last time she saw him at Lakeside Haven, pretending to care.
He had always hated her, yet now he acted like he was overjoyed to see her again. Who was he trying to fool?
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