And The Daddy Is… The Infertile Guy?!

Chapter 135

At Bayridge Hospital, within the confines of a sterilized room, a doctor, illuminated by the harsh fluorescent lights overhead, was inspecting a series of X–rays.

“Most of it looks okay, but the ring finger on the right hand is shattered. Even after it heals, she’s likely to lose some dexterity in that finger.”

He was well aware that Gwendolyn was a surgeon in her prime, any loss of dexterity was a career– ending catastrophe.

“Isn’t there anything else we can do?” Howard was hushed as he stood by Gwendolyn’s bedside, her eyes closed tight against the world.

“I’m afraid this is beyond even Dr. Yates. Our best bet might be to see if Enoch, that alternative therapy guru, can work his magic with some post–op rehab.” The attending physician drifted his gaze to Howard’s legs with curiosity, but he didn’t dare to pry further. He had a hunch that Howard might have a connection to Enoch.

“I understand,” Howard replied simply.

After the doctor offered a few more words of caution, he left the room, the door closing with a soft click behind him.

Gwendolyn shivered slightly under the thin hospital blanket, and a tear slipped from the corner of her closed eyes.

She wasn’t asleep; she had heard every word.

Seeking out Enoch for her injury? It seemed a fantasy too bold to entertain.

She was a doctor herself. She knew all too well the grim prognosis for her hand.

As Howard turned back to her, he saw the silent sobs shake her chest. He reached out, his fingertips gently cleaning the tears on her cheeks.

“Gwendolyn, it’s okay to cry out,” he said, his voice laced with a tender ache.

But Gwendolyn bit her lip, refusing to make a sound.

Howard leaned in, pulling her into an embrace. “Don’t be afraid. It’s going to be okay. Just give me two days.”

Gwendolyn’s hands, wrapped in gauze, felt clumsy and foreign. She took a deep, steadying breath and said, “Mr. Chadwick, Sandra’s cell phone was smashed. Could you buy a new one for me? I’ll wire you the money.”

“Sure,” Howard said, his ‘response immediate. “Anything else you need?”

“I… I want to be alone for a bit,” her voice quivered with effort.

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Howard gave her a long look, his eyes carrying a weight of unspoken promises, before he slowly exited the room.

The door closed and Gwendolyn crumbled her composure. Her sobs, muffled by the pillow, were desperate and heart–wrenching.

To reach Enoch was a feat akin to scaling a mountain with no peak in sight.

Bill had fled, Sandra’s phone had been destroyed, the evidence gone.

She knew that with no medical license and her hands impaired, her path had come to an abrupt end.

On the other side of the door, Howard clenched his fists as Gwendolyn’s stifled despair reached his ears.

When Nathan arrived at the hospital, he found Howard looking like a storm ready to burst. “Howard!” He called out, his gaze dropping to Howard’s unblemished legs and added, “I’ve managed to contain the news, they don’t know you’ve recovered. Your parents wanted to come to the hospital, but I convinced them to stay home.”

Fresh from the police station, Nathan was quick to update Howard with the latest, “Waldo has been caught and hasn’t spilled on who’s behind all this. Bill and his wife are on the run, still being hunted. Waldo must have caught wind of something to go after Gwendolyn like

this.”

“It’s Bainbridge’s doing,” Howard said without hesitation,

“That snake always plays dirty. I bet Waldo won’t give us a straight answer. How’s Gwendolyn’s condition?” Nathan glanced at the closed door of the hospital room, concern etching his features. Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

“It doesn’t look good.”

Howard was ice cold, then he asked, “What’s the word on Gwendolyn online?”

“The heat is high,” Nathan said gravely. “Do you want me to spend some cash to cool things off? But the impact of Gwendolyn’s unlicensed practice is significant. The Health Association has even issued a statement, banning her from practicing medicine for life.”

With the situation escalating, whether Bill was faking his condition had become irrelevant. “Unless Gwendolyn can prove she wasn’t practicing without a license,” Nathan added.

Howard was a mask of ruthless intent, a cold smile playing on his lips. “Stir the pot. Hire some keyboard warriors to blow this whole thing up. The bigger the scandal, the better.”

Why would he want to fan the flames?