Chapter 7 The Famous Doctor’s Verdict, Speaking Out in Public

Two days passed quickly.

During those two days, Cole entered Sophia's room at nine every morning and came out at five in the afternoon.

Cole held Sophia's wrist, using his bloodline power bit by bit to stimulate her phoenix crystal core.

Over these two days, Cole observed that the toxins in Sophia's body were being suppressed by the phoenix crystal core, but it was only suppression—the poisoned state hadn't been completely resolved.

Cole knew that with just his limited power, he couldn't break the current deadlock.

But he didn't need to break the deadlock.

He only needed to create a signal—

A signal that doctors could detect, that everyone could see, that would prevent Victor from making any open moves.

Third day, nine in the morning.

Cole entered Sophia's room right on time.

After the door closed, he walked straight to the bedside, drew out the silver dagger, and gripped it in his right hand.

Then he placed his left hand on Sophia's wrist, fingertips against her pulse.

Cole closed his eyes and felt the temperature in his chest begin to rise.

He actively channeled the bloodline within him. The heat of his bloodline power flowed along his blood vessels to his fingertips, then connected with the phoenix power in Sophia's wrist.

At the same time, the runes on the dagger lit up.

The dark red patterns seemed to ignite, spreading from the handle to the blade tip. The entire knife was vibrating.

Cole didn't pull back.

He poured more bloodline power in. The warmth in his chest instantly turned scorching hot, as if something was burning inside.

Cole felt his heartbeat getting faster and faster.

And on the bed, Sophia's fingers began to move.

As if responding to his call, all five of her fingers moved at once.

First her curled fingers slowly straightened, then her whole hand lifted slightly from outside the blanket, suspended in the air for two or three seconds before falling back down.

Cole was startled, only then noticing that Sophia's complexion had actually become rosy, no longer the deathly pale it had been before.

The dark color at the edges of her lips had also faded a bit. Her eyelids moved, but didn't open.

Cole released his hand and returned the dagger to his waist.

He stood up, walked to the window, and pulled the curtains halfway open.

Light streamed in, falling on Sophia's face.

That face wasn't much different from two days ago—

Still thin, still pale, still with eyes closed.

But that deathly quality was gone. She looked like someone sleeping, no longer like someone waiting to die.

Cole glanced at the clock on the wall.

Ten-thirty. The doctor was scheduled for eleven.

Still half an hour.

Footsteps came from outside the door.

Not one person's, but several pairs of leather shoes hitting the wooden floor at once.

The door was pushed open.

Victor walked in first.

He was wearing a black suit today, with a dark gray tie, his hair combed meticulously.

Three people followed behind him—a gray-haired doctor carrying a black medical bag, and two young assistants pushing a mobile vital signs monitor.

Cole had seen this doctor in the news.

Alan Gray, one of the top three neurology experts in America, a tenured professor at Johns Hopkins Hospital.

"Dr. Gray, please." Victor stepped aside with a welcoming gesture.

Dr. Gray walked to the bedside, opened his medical bag, and took out a small flashlight.

He lifted Sophia's eyelid and shone the light into her left eye, then her right eye.

Then he put down the flashlight, took out a thin metal rod from the bag, and tapped Sophia's knee with the end, then her elbow.

No response.

Dr. Gray frowned slightly. He glanced back at his assistant, who pushed the monitor over.

He attached several electrodes to Sophia's temples, chest, and wrist, then turned on the machine.

A row of green waveforms and numbers appeared on the screen.

Cole stood by the window, watching.

The machine ran for about three minutes.

Dr. Gray stared at the screen, his frown deepening.

He had the assistant adjust the electrode positions twice and ran the test again.

Then he turned off the machine, removed his reading glasses, and turned to Victor.

"Mr. Rockefeller."

Victor took a step forward, his expression showing perfectly measured concern. "Dr. Gray, please speak frankly."

Dr. Gray folded his reading glasses and put them in his breast pocket. "Based on my examination, Ms. Rockefeller's brain activity has dropped to the lowest level. Brainstem reflexes are absent, with no response to external stimuli. From a medical standpoint, she has entered an irreversible state of deep coma. What we commonly call—"

He paused.

"Brain death."

The room fell silent for a few seconds.

Victor lowered his head, covering his mouth with his hand. His shoulders trembled slightly.

After about five seconds, he looked up, his eyes red, his voice somewhat hoarse. "How much... time does she have?"

"Organ failure is accelerating." Dr. Gray said, "Without machine support, at most a week. Even with support, no more than two weeks. Mr. Rockefeller, I suggest you—prepare yourself."

Victor turned around, his back to the bed, facing the wall for a few seconds. His shoulders trembled again.

Cole watched him.

Nice performance.

Dr. Gray closed his medical bag and sighed: "Mr. Rockefeller, I understand your feelings. But from a medical perspective, Ms. Rockefeller has no possibility of waking up. Continuing treatment will only prolong the suffering. I suggest you stop the machines and let her rest in peace..."

"I don't agree! Sophia can wake up!" Before the doctor could finish, Cole's voice came from by the window.

Everyone's eyes turned to Cole.

Cole leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed over his chest, his tone firm: "She's not brain dead! I can wake her up!"

Dr. Gray was stunned.

The two assistants also exchanged glances.

Victor turned around, the grief still on his face, but the emotion in his eyes had changed. He looked at Cole and asked incredulously: "What did you say?"

"I said, I can wake her up!" Cole repeated.

Dr. Gray immediately frowned, looking Cole up and down, seeing his old shirt and worn jeans, like some street punk who knew nothing about medicine.

"Young man, who are you?" Dr. Gray asked curiously.

"He's Sophia's husband!" Victor spoke up, but his tone carried undisguised mockery, "Mainly responsible for taking care of Sophia's daily needs!"

"Husband?" Dr. Gray's frown deepened. He looked at Victor, then at Cole, and finally shook his head: "Young man, I understand your feelings for Ms. Rockefeller. But I'm a doctor, and you're not! My examination results just now were very clear—Sophia's brainstem reflexes are gone, her brain waves are nearly flat. In any hospital in the world, in any country, this meets the diagnostic criteria for brain death!"

Hearing Dr. Gray's words, Cole didn't answer immediately.

Dr. Gray thought he didn't understand and patiently continued to explain:

"Let me explain this to you. The human brain needs oxygen and blood supply to maintain function. Ms. Rockefeller's brain blood supply is severely insufficient, and brain cells are dying on a massive scale. This process is irreversible. It's like—"

"Like she's been poisoned."