Chapter 9

He didn't refute Yvaine's absurd assumption. He didn't refuse.

He only pressed his lips together tightly, his deep eyes lowering slightly as he fell into a long, heavy silence.

That deafening silence was like a rusted, blunt knife plunging straight into Florence's chest, then twisting cruelly.

Florence suddenly felt like laughing. But her eyes stung with tears.

She'd thought a loveless three-year marriage where they lived like strangers was the worst it could get.

She'd thought Percival simply didn't love her. That he was just cold by nature.

She never imagined that in this man's heart, Florence wasn't just a decoration he could discard at any moment—she could even be Yvaine's walking blood bank, her organ donor.

As long as Yvaine needed it, he would silently let her life be taken.

So this was how cruel it could be when someone didn't love you.

The last fragile thread of hope in her heart turned to ash in Percival's silence.

Florence felt her heart freeze completely. A bone-deep chill spread through her limbs.

She didn't keep listening. She didn't burst in to confront him.

She simply turned around slowly, dragging her injured leg, step by step, silently leaving that suffocating hallway.

Back in Professor Coleman's private office, Florence didn't turn on the lights.

She walked to the desk, pulled open a drawer, and took out Yvaine's medical file.

Every piece of data in the file showed a body heading toward failure.

Florence pulled out a blank prescription form bearing Silverline Hospital's letterhead and picked up the pen on the desk.

The nib scratched across the paper.

Without hesitation, relying on her vast and precise medical knowledge, she quickly filled an entire page with conservative treatment protocols and medication dosages.

As a wife, she wanted Yvaine and Percival to vanish from her world immediately. But as a doctor, her professional ethics wouldn't allow her to stand by and let someone die.

This treatment plan couldn't cure Yvaine's condition. But if followed strictly, it could significantly delay the progression of her illness and buy her more time to find a donor match.

She finished the last stroke and capped the pen decisively.

Florence slipped the prescription into the file, walked out of the office, and handed it to the assistant physician waiting outside.

"Give this to Yvaine's attending physician." Florence's voice was cold, devoid of personal emotion. "Tell them Dr. Healer isn't taking any surgeries right now. I won't perform this operation. This treatment plan is the last suggestion I can offer."

The assistant physician took the file, nodding in a daze.

Florence turned and walked toward the elevator.

From this moment on, whether Percival and Yvaine lived or died had nothing to do with her.

Silverline Hospital, VIP Special Care Unit.

"What did you say? She refused?" Yvaine swept the fruit bowl off the nightstand. The sharp crash of shattering glass echoed loudly in the quiet room.

She glared at the attending physician, her usually pitiable face now twisted with rage.

The attending physician wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and handed over the handwritten prescription. "Ms. Stewart, Dr. Healer did decline the surgery. She left this conservative treatment plan. She said it's the last suggestion she can give."

"Conservative treatment? I don't want conservative treatment! I want a complete cure!" Yvaine snatched the prescription, tore it into pieces, and threw them into the air like snow.

She'd put so much effort into this. She'd even played the victim in front of Percival. All to get Dr. Healer to operate.

And that doctor—who wouldn't even show her face—dared to refuse her!

Seeing her fury, the attending physician mumbled an excuse and hurried out.

The door had just closed when the door to the adjoining room opened softly.

Beau Parker, Silverline Hospital's vice president, shuffled out, rubbing his hands together with a fawning smile.

"Ms. Stewart, don't be so upset. It's bad for your health." Beau approached the bedside and lowered his voice. "Dr. Healer is a bit eccentric, I'll admit. She's so confident in her skills that she won't even give Professor Coleman face. But at the end of the day, she's still in the medical system. With enough incentive, the hospital administration can find a way to make her comply."

Yvaine's eyes flickered with calculation.

She let out a cold laugh, pulled a gilded black card from under her pillow, and slapped it onto the nightstand.

"There's ten million dollars on this card. The password is six zeros. Percival set it aside specifically for my medical expenses." Yvaine's manicured fingertip tapped the card, her gaze vicious. "Mr. Parker, as long as you make Dr. Healer stand at my operating table, this money is yours."

Beau stared at the black card. His eyes lit up instantly, greed spilling across his face.

He snatched the card and shoved it into his pocket, nodding eagerly. "Ms. Stewart, don't worry. Leave it to me. I'll make sure she's begging to perform your surgery!"

After Beau left, the hospital room fell deathly silent.

Yvaine leaned back against the bed, her expression dark and terrifying. She opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a tightly sealed envelope.

She tore it open. Inside was a DNA and organ compatibility report.

The last line of the report read: [Compatibility: 99.9%].

And in the donor column, the name was printed clearly—Florence.

Yvaine stared at that name, a poisonous smile curling her lips.

Percival thought she'd only been asking casually. He had no idea she'd bribed one of the Churchill family's maids half a month ago and obtained Florence's hair and blood samples.

She wasn't just going to cure her illness. She was going to take Florence's life.

Once Florence was dead, the position of Mrs. Churchill would be hers.

Percival had stayed silent. That meant he didn't care whether that woman lived or died.

If that was the case, she'd make the decision for him.

Yvaine pulled out an untraceable burner phone and dialed an overseas black market number.

"Hello, it's me." Yvaine's voice was ice-cold, dripping with chilling malice. "Kidnap her. Double the price. I want her kidney intact. As for her… do whatever you want. Just make sure she's still breathing when you send her to the underground operating room. And keep it clean. Mr. Churchill can't suspect a thing."

She hung up and stared out at the dark night sky, laughing wildly and recklessly.

'Florence, let's see how you fight me this time.'