Chapter 296

As the last person exited the room, Donovan Prescott collapsed onto the floor, his body finally giving in to exhaustion.

Harrison Whitmore gestured sharply, and two security guards immediately dragged Donovan away.

The harsh fluorescent lights of the emergency room continued to blaze relentlessly.

Harrison, Dominic Kingsley, and Julian Hartwell paced anxiously outside, their footsteps echoing in the sterile hallway.

Dawn's first light was creeping through the windows when the operating room lights finally dimmed. The three men sprang to their feet.

They rushed toward the swinging doors just as they opened.

The surgeon emerged, peeling off his surgical mask with trembling hands.

Harrison's voice cut through the tense silence. "How is Evelyn? Tell me her condition."

The doctor exhaled heavily. "Her oxygen levels were critically low. We've stabilized her, but..." He hesitated. "She may not regain consciousness."

Harrison's face drained of color. His hands clenched into fists. "What... What are you telling me?"

"Mr. Whitmore, our hospital lacks the specialized equipment needed. Ms. Carter is likely to remain in a vegetative state."

"That can't be true!"

Julian's eyes burned with unshed tears. His voice cracked. "Evelyn will wake up. She has to."

He refused to accept this cruel reality.

Dominic ran a shaky hand through his hair. "There must be another option," he demanded.

The doctor shook his head grimly, looking like a judge delivering a death sentence.

Then, after a weighted pause, he added, "Though... there is one person who might be able to help."

Three pairs of eyes locked onto him with desperate intensity. Harrison grabbed the doctor's arm.

"Name them. We'll move heaven and earth to get them here."

The doctor sighed. "The problem is... he may refuse to treat Ms. Carter."

Dominic's voice turned urgent. "Who is this person? Where do we find him?"

The physician frowned. "He's exceptionally skilled but notoriously difficult to locate. And time is critical - if we delay too long..."

Julian interrupted, "How long do we have? We'll do whatever it takes."

"Six hours."

"Only six?"

"Yes. Frankly, it's nearly impossible. But if you can find him in time, there might be hope..."

Harrison's eyes suddenly flashed with recognition.

"You're speaking of Dr. Benedict Harrison, aren't you?"

The doctor nodded vigorously. "Exactly! But tracking down Dr. Harrison is-"

Before he could finish, Harrison was already dialing a number from his contacts.

At that exact moment, Benedict was lounging on a private beach in Bora Bora, a stunning brunette nestled against him, when his phone shattered the peaceful moment.

"Who the hell- Can't you see I'm busy?" he snapped.

Then he saw the caller ID.

He bolted upright so fast he nearly knocked over his cocktail.

"Harrison! To what do I owe this rare honor?" Benedict's voice dripped with theatrical delight. "I've missed you terribly, you know. When I heard you'd left France for Pamore, I almost booked the next flight!"

Harrison ignored the effusive greeting.

His voice was steel. "Your location. Now."

Benedict chuckled. "Bora Bora. Why? Planning to join me?"

"You have three hours to reach Dunhill General. Fail to arrive on time, and you'll regret it."