Chapter 488

The medical team trailing behind Julian Whitmore regarded him with awe, as if witnessing a miracle worker in action.

Dominic Blackwood's fingers twitched nervously despite his unwavering faith in Julian's expertise.

"How's Evelyn now?" His voice was tight with concern.

Julian stretched lazily, flashing a confident grin. "Relax. I could revive your wife even if Death himself came knocking. Your third child is perfectly safe, and no amputation needed. Satisfied with my work?"

"Thank you, Julian." The gratitude in Dominic's voice was palpable.

This stoic billionaire rarely expressed appreciation. Yet for Evelyn Sinclair, he'd thanked Julian multiple times tonight.

Julian arched an eyebrow. "Well now, that's a first."

Dominic's mood had improved considerably. "Name your price. Within reason, I'll grant any request."

Before Julian could respond, nurses emerged from the OR pushing a gurney.

Evelyn remained unconscious post-surgery.

Dominic's breath hitched. A sharp pang pierced his chest.

He reached to touch her pale cheek, but Julian blocked him.

"Don't." Julian's tone turned serious. "She's fragile right now. Your hands carry bacteria."

Dominic reluctantly lowered his hand. For once, he didn't bristle at Julian's interference.

His delicate wife lay motionless on the stretcher.

The sight tore at his heart.

"Mr. Blackwood, we'll transfer Ms. Sinclair to her room now," a young nurse murmured, casting shy glances between the powerful CEO and his unconscious wife.

Every woman in A City knew their story. While versions varied, none could deny their envy of this modern-day Cinderella.

"I'll do it." Dominic commandeered the gurney, his expression tender as he guided Evelyn down the corridor.

The nursing staff exchanged astonished looks. The infamous ice-cold CEO of T Corporation pushing a hospital gurney? Unthinkable.

Julian shook his head as Dominic disappeared around the corner. The man was hopelessly love-struck. No saving him now.

Night fell over the hospital ward.

Moonlight streamed through the windows, painting the ICU in silver hues.

Only the ventilator's rhythmic hum and Dominic's watchful gaze disturbed the stillness.

Dominic stood vigil by Evelyn's bedside. His shadow, cast by the dim wall light, enveloped her fragile form.

The usually composed tycoon looked haggard. His brows knitted together as he studied Evelyn's parched lips. With meticulous care, he moistened them with a water-soaked swab.

Those lips that usually resembled ripe peaches now looked painfully dry.

After tucking the blankets around her, Dominic lifted her left hand - the one free of IV tubes - and pressed it to his lips.

Her fingernails matched her pallid complexion.

Julian entered with the hospital director in tow.

After exchanging greetings, Julian checked Evelyn's vitals and reviewed her postoperative status.

"Your little fighter's got impressive tenacity," Julian remarked with genuine surprise. "Most pregnancies wouldn't survive such trauma. This one clung on like a champ."

Dominic's hand drifted to the slight swell beneath the blankets. His gaze softened.

Their third child had endured so much before even taking its first breath.

They'd spoil this baby rotten once Evelyn delivered.

"Thank you." Dominic's gratitude was unmistakable. "When will she wake?"

Julian grinned. "Tomorrow, most likely. I'm dead on my feet though - flew straight here after a complex procedure overseas. Two major surgeries back-to-back. How about showing some appreciation, hm? Maybe a kiss—"

"Get out." Dominic's scowl returned.

Julian chuckled. "Typical. Use me and toss me aside. Heartless."

"Dr. Whitmore," the hospital director interjected eagerly, "might I trouble you tomorrow? Just thirty minutes to discuss some medical complexities..."

The renowned director behaved like an eager student around Julian.

The older physician held immense respect for the younger man's skills. That such a talented surgeon remained absent from international conferences baffled him.

Julian offered a polite smile. "No need for formalities, Director. I'm just an ordinary physician. And my surname isn't Whitmore - it's Park."

He'd grown accustomed to being called "Dr. Whitmore" - his middle name. But Park was his true surname.

A name he rarely acknowledged. Those memories belonged buried.

"Your wife's stable now," Julian told Dominic, covering a yawn. "I'm heading home before I collapse. Try not to worry."

The director followed Julian out like an obedient puppy.

Once alone, Dominic's tender expression hardened into something dangerous.

"Whoever dared harm my wife," he murmured to the silent room, "has signed their death warrant."