Chapter 463
Benjamin Kensington writhed in agony, curling into a tight ball on the leather seat. His hands clamped over his abdomen as a guttural moan tore from his throat. “Argh!”
Isabella Montgomery’s brow furrowed instantly. “What’s happening?”
“It…hurts…so much!” he gasped before his body went limp. He collapsed onto the aircraft’s cold floor.
Thud.
He was out cold. Isabella dropped to her knees, her fingers urgently tapping his pale cheeks. No response. Within seconds, his complexion turned a ghastly, ashen grey. A cold dread shot through her. She pressed two fingers beneath his nose, seeking any sign of breath. Her hand recoiled sharply.
He wasn’t breathing.
Panic surged, but she forced it down. “The emergency kit! Now!” she barked, her voice cutting through the cabin’s hum.
Maxwell Carter was already moving. He retrieved the advanced medical kit, stocked with experimental drugs and cutting-edge resuscitation equipment.
Isabella’s fingers flew through the contents. She seized a single, unmarked white pill. Reborn. A prototype developed by her mentor, Silas Granger, and his top research team. It was designed for catastrophic organ failure, a last-chance gamble that had to be administered within thirty seconds of clinical death.
She pried his jaw open and placed the pill on his tongue. It would dissolve instantly.
Next, she grabbed the portable CPR device, pressing the electrode pad firmly to his chest. The machine whirred to life, delivering rhythmic, precise compressions.
“Divert to the nearest hospital in Westhaven!” Maxwell ordered the pilot.
“No!” Isabella’s command was absolute. “Continue to Westchester! Full speed!”
Westhaven was Takashi Yamamoto’s domain. Any hospital there would be compromised. Benjamin would be a sitting duck.
Maxwell nodded grimly, understanding the unspoken danger. He clipped small electronic nodes to Benjamin’s palms and the soles of his feet. They emitted a low-frequency current, designed to prevent neuromuscular lock-up and stimulate neural activity.
Sweat beaded on both their foreheads. The only sound was the mechanical thump of the CPR device and the low hum of the nodes.
Isabella’s mind raced. He couldn’t die. Not like this. Victoria Kensington had manipulated him his entire life. He had only just begun to see the truth. He deserved a chance to live it.
And Theodore Montgomery… How could she ever tell that gentle old man he had lost his grandson?
Her will became a tangible force. She poured every ounce of her focus into the fight for his life.
Nearly an hour later, a miracle. Benjamin’s index finger twitched.
“He’s back!” Maxwell exclaimed, relief washing over his face. “Vitals are stabilizing!”
Isabella’s breath hitched. She checked for a pulse. Faint, but there. Steadying.
She immediately shut down all the devices, removing the pads and clips. She leaned close to his ear, her voice low and fierce.
“Fight, Benjamin. Do you hear me? Your grandfather is waiting. Everyone is waiting. Victoria needs to be exposed. You can’t leave this unfinished. You will not drag me down with your failure. Stay. Alive.”
He remained unconscious, unresponsive, trapped in a fragile state between life and death.
It was a critical situation.
The jet finally touched down at the Westchester private terminal. Maxwell’s team was already waiting on the tarmac with a stretcher. They carefully transferred Benjamin’s still form.
Isabella never left his side. She slid into the back of the waiting SUV beside the stretcher.
“Grace Memorial Hospital. Now,” she instructed the driver. It was the largest, most secure private hospital in the city, located mercifully close to the airport. Their exorbitant fees guaranteed immediate, discreet, and top-tier medical attention. It was his best chance.