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CHAPTER- 33 Dark Intentions And A Tragedy

Author's POV

It is around 9 PM, and a mysterious figure enters the private room of Mrs. Easterwood in the hospital, dressed in a doctor's coat. The figure moves silently, blending into the sterile environment. Their face is obscured by the shadows cast by the dim light, but an ominous aura surrounds them. 

They smirk evilly as they approach the saline bottle attached to Mrs. Easterwood's IV line. With swift and precise movements, the figure inserts an injection into the saline, watching as the liquid disperses into the solution.

 The deed done, the mysterious figure quickly exits the room, leaving no trace of their sinister intentions.

Estella's POV

Today is my night duty. Night shifts are really hectic because sometimes we get the worst accident cases, mostly at night. I am checking all the patients, ensuring that everyone is stable. 

Despite the chaos, my thoughts keep drifting to Mrs. Easterwood. It's been four weeks since her surgery. She is showing much improvement, and there's a possibility she might wake up from her coma soon.

Last week, I saw how much Alaric feels miserable because of his grandmother's condition. He truly loves her a lot. She was the only one who supported him more than his parents. I can understand his pain, but I cannot comfort him because of the misunderstandings between us. I hope maybe everything will get better with time.

As I finish my rounds, I decide to check on Grandmother. I reach her room and enter quietly. The machines beep steadily, indicating stable vitals. I begin to monitor her closely, ensuring everything is in order. 

Suddenly, her body convulses violently. She's having a seizure, and it looks like she's about to have a severe heart attack.

Panic surges through me, but I quickly ring the emergency bell. The nurses rush in, and with their help, we manage to stabilize her condition temporarily. Despite our efforts, she is still in grave danger. My mind races as I try to think of the next steps.

I hurriedly call Dr. Vincent, "Dr. Vincent, Mrs. Easterwood is having severe complications. I think she's going into cardiac arrest," I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite the urgency.

"Prepare the operation theatre immediately. I'll be there in five minutes," he instructs.

I follow his orders, instructing the nurses to get everything ready. My heart pounds as I run through the corridors, my mind a whirlwind of fear and determination. I cannot let her die.

One of the nurses calls Alaric. We cannot mislead him regarding his grandmother's condition as he is guardian of the patient.

Within minutes, the operation theatre is prepared, and Dr. Vincent arrives, taking charge with his usual calm and authoritative presence. "Let's move her," he orders. We transfer grandmother to the operating table, and I assist Dr. Vincent as he begins the critical procedure.

The room is tense, the air thick with the weight of the situation. Dr. Vincent works methodically, his hands steady and sure. I follow his lead, handing him instruments, monitoring her vitals, and providing support wherever needed. The minutes feel like hours as we fight to save her life.

Despite our best efforts, Grandmother's condition remains precarious. After a grueling surgery, we both step outside, drained but relieved.

As we remove our gloves and masks, Dr. Vincent frowns, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"There's something wrong," he mutters, more to himself than to me. "Her symptoms don't match her previous condition. She shouldn't have had a heart attack. She never had any heart conditions before. We ran all her tests, and her heart was perfectly healthy."