A Beauty With Multiple Masks
As Arielle recalled, the Wilhelms would bring her and Henry for medical checkups every year. The
checkups, however, were always only physical, never psychological.
It might be true that she, like Trisha, could have a little mental disability.
It seemed like it was about time she consulted a psychologist.
Arielle’s deep-rooted frustration evaporated instantly after she convinced herself that she was suffering
from a mental disorder.
Night was drawing in slowly.
A thick blanket of darkness covered the earth. While the stars and the moon hung high in the sky,
Rocher Private Hospital was illuminated as brightly as day.
In an emergency room.
“Adrenaline, stat!”
“Get more blood from the blood bank!”
“Platelet count is dropping!”
“It’s no use. We need Queenie here. You, page Dr. Mill right now.”
“Yes, Dr. Ziegler.”
The situation in the emergency room was disastrous.
Half an hour ago, Malorie unexpectedly fell unconscious and was rushed to the hospital’s emergency
room.
On top of being anxious, Henrick was unable to sit still. He paced back and forth in front of the
emergency room entrance. Smoking cigarettes as he paced, stick after stick, the ashes rained down and
covered the floor.
At that precise moment, the emergency room’s door opened.
A nurse rushed out from the emergency room.
Henrick rushed over and asked her, “How’s my mom?”?
Henrick’s breath smelt strongly of cigarette smoke as he talked. The nurse tightened her mask and
replied, “We’re still trying to save her. Just a reminder, sir. You can’t smoke in here.”
“Okay. Okay.” Henrick put out the cigarette in his hand. He begged, “You must save my Mom!”
The nurse nodded. “I’m going to page the greatest surgeon in the hospital right now. Don’t worry, we’ll do
everything we can to save her.”
“Thank you, thank you.” Henrick continually nodded. He didn’t want to disturb the nurse’s work.
Queenie was writing a thesis on a robotic pacemaker in
her office.
She wasn’t personally involved in the previous robotic pacemaker surgery. She could, however, write a
thesis based on the meticulously kept operative report. She might be able to advance her career in
medicine as a result of the thesis.
Queenie carefully studied the operative report. According to the report, the surgical operator was the
doctor from General Hospital. However, Zachary mentioned that Arielle was the one who installed the
robotic pacemaker.
Why didn’t Arielle sign her name if it was actually her? Likewise, how could she have performed surgery
while still a student? Zachary must have made a mistake. That idiot.
Even though the surgery was not difficult, it did require a high level of experience and precision. Such
skills could only be attained by a highly experienced surgeon who was also well-versed in the costly
robotic pacemaker.
The more assumptions Queenie made, the more certain she became in her judgment.
At that moment, Queenie’s office door was slammed open. A nurse frantically rushed into her room and
yelled, “Dr. Mill, you need to get to emergency room number one as quickly as possible. The elderly
woman who needed the robotic pacemaker yesterday is unconscious.”
“I’ll go now.” Queenie shut off her laptop and quickly followed the nurse to the hospital’s emergency
room.
While walking, she asked, “Do we have the robotic pacemaker yet?”
“No. It would be great if we did. I think surgery is all you can do now.”
Queenie’s surgical history was perfect. She had never had a failed surgery. Therefore, she wasn’t
pleased to learn that Malorie’s procedure was incredibly risky. Not to mention that Malorie’s vitals were
critical. The procedure’s success rate was reduced to only three percent.
A three percent success rate might easily jeopardize her spotless surgical history.
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