Chapter 5
For the next couple of days, the atmosphere in the hospital grew heavier and heavier.
News had spread that the prince's condition was getting worse, and there was no way to keep it under wraps anymore.
Folks from Seraphis' embassy were at the hospital every day.
Rumor had it, John's office lights never went off.
Everyone in cardiac surgery was walking on eggshells.
Vivian would sneak over on the sly to fill me in on all the latest news.
She'd come by every day at lunchtime, like my own personal insider.
She said, "Dr. Sutton, did you hear? Last night, they had to scramble to save the prince again. He almost didn't make it.
"The expert team was at each other's throats, and they shot down every plan they came up with."
I listened quietly. Occasionally, I nodded.
Vivian looked anxious. "Dr. Lane brought up a new plan at the meeting and said it was cutting-edge research. But Dr. Charles Chandler shot it down right there.
"He said the plan was totally unworkable in theory, plain crazy. Wasn't that something you suggested a while back?"
I took a sip of my soup. "That's right, I was the one who suggested it. But I ended up dismissing it myself. It had a fatal flaw."
Melissa picked up the basics, but she still had the guts to flaunt it in front of the experts. Only the clueless rush in without fear.
Vivian looked pissed. "She wanted to show off. And she almost got someone killed. Dr. Drew looked like he was about to lose it.
"Dr. Sutton, do you think they're regretting it now?"
I set down my fork. "Whether they regret it or not, that's their problem. It's got nothing to do with me."
Vivian looked at me and let out a sigh. "Dr. Sutton, I don't get it. Why are you like this now?"
She wanted to say I was giving up on myself, but she couldn't bring herself to say it.
I smiled and didn't say anything.
Some things were impossible to explain. Once my heart went numb, I stopped wanting anything at all.
Michael sent me a text. Since I'd blocked him, he went out of his way to text me from another number.
It read: [Claire, I know you're still mad at me. But it's an emergency; someone's life is at stake.
[Can you give me a clue? Do it for the hospital. For me.]
He was still playing games with me, trying to see how I'd react.
He was hoping to cash in without doing any of the work himself, treating me like his ace in the hole.
I blocked the number right away and deleted the text.
*****
That afternoon, I was sorting through a batch of old files.
The paper was yellowed and so brittle it felt like it might fall apart at the slightest touch.
I wore gloves, turning the pages with extra care.
Suddenly, I came across a name that stopped me in my tracks. It was someone I knew all too well. [Surgeon in charge: Henry Sutton.]
Henry was my grandfather, who founded our hospital's Department of Cardiothoracic Surgery.
Back then, that surgery was absolutely groundbreaking. He fixed an incredibly rare congenital heart defect: Tetralogy of Fallot associated with an anomalous coronary artery origin.
There were barely a handful of cases like that anywhere in the world.
My grandfather not only attempted the surgery, but he pulled it off.
He also pioneered a brand new surgical method: the Sutton Suture Technique, a method that maximized protection for the heart muscle.
Eventually, the technique faded into obscurity.
The difficulty was insane. Only a surgeon with near-superhuman skill could pull it off.
In the entire Sutton family, I was the only one who ever truly mastered it.
I stared at the surgical record, thick with dust.
Suddenly, a strange premonition crept over me.
*****
The next day, my premonition came true.
The hospital called a top-level emergency meeting.
The royal medical advisors from Seraphis showed up as well.
The details of the meeting leaked out almost immediately.
The prince was suffering from the exact same illness as my grandfather's legendary case.
Every detail matched perfectly. It was uncanny.
The whole hospital was in an uproar.
It seemed that fate was playing a cruel joke on us.
The only successful case was buried deep in the hospital's records. And the only surgeon who could actually pull off that operation was benched in Medical Records.
I could imagine the looks on John and Michael's faces. Must be wonderful.
And sure enough, I was right.
Not thirty minutes later, my phone buzzed again.
Michael was calling again. It was a number I didn't recognize.
I picked up.
"Claire, where are you?" Michael sounded desperate, his voice almost shaking.
"Medical Records," I said.
"Stay right there. I'm coming to get you."
He hung up.
I set my phone down. Then I went back to reading my grandfather's surgical notes.
I pored over every word, every line, with painstaking attention.
It felt like I was appreciating a masterpiece.
I knew they'd be here soon.
They'd come with their pleas, their bargaining chips, begging to the useless one they once tossed aside.
I waited and wasn't the least bit anxious.
The upper hand in this game was finally back in my hands.
*****
In the conference room, the chief medical advisor from Seraphis, a strict old doctor, pointed at a paper on the screen.
It was the piece my grandfather had published years ago.
He said, "We've gone through every piece of research out there. There's only one successful surgery on record in the whole world.
"That operation was done by Dr. Sutton right here at your hospital. Is Dr. Sutton's student still at the hospital? We need the Sutton Suture Technique."
The conference room was dead silent. Every eye in the room was glued to John and Michael.
Sweat trickled down John's forehead.
Michael's lips were pale as a sheet.