Chapter 539

Chapter 539:

She had severed every tie with the Lancaster world. She had no reach into the circles where a single phone call could move a specialist’s schedule. There was only one person in New York who could get Dr. Hale into that ICU without delay.

Grayson.

The thought pressed against something raw inside her, but reality offered her no alternative. She had believed that leaving Grayson meant simply walking away from a broken marriage — that her financial independence was enough, that she could rebuild everything she needed on her own terms. She had been right about most of it.

But not this. Wealth alone meant nothing in a moment like this. She had money, and she had no one.

She stood in the crowded corridor, surrounded by noise and quiet grief, staring at the sealed ICU doors. Pride could not fix this.

ѕ𝗍o𝘳𝗶е𝘴 yo𝘂 𝘸on’𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝘯 оn 𝘨а𝘭𝗇𝗈𝘷𝘦𝗹𝘀.с𝘰𝘮

And she knew it.

The hospital corridor burned with cold white light all through the night, casting a heavy, anxious pall over everything beneath it. Isolde had spent the entire night on a hard plastic bench outside the ICU, barely managing two hours of broken, uncomfortable sleep. She didn’t dare move far, terrified of missing any update from the doctors. The early morning chill seeped through the bench and into her bones, and her back — already throbbing from days of strain and the blow at the Lancaster estate — ached worse with every passing hour. She paid it no attention. Every fragment of her focus was fixed on her uncle, fighting for his life on the other side of those sealed doors.

The nanny had stayed with Effie in a lounge near the hospital entrance. Isolde had stopped by once for a quick check before returning immediately to her post. Ellyn had not slept at all either. The two of them endured the longest, most suffocating night of their lives in the quiet tension of that hallway.

As faint dawn light began to streak the sky, the attending physician pushed through the heavy ICU doors, pulled off his mask, and walked toward them. He looked exhausted, but there was a flicker of reluctant relief in his expression. Isolde and Ellyn rose simultaneously and hurried to meet him.

“The patient’s condition has stabilized temporarily,” the doctor said. “His vital signs have steadied and are no longer deteriorating.”

The two women exhaled — but his next words pulled them immediately back.

“However, the general ICU carries a high risk of cross-infection due to patient volume. In his current state of multiple organ failure, even a minor infection could be catastrophic. He must be transferred to a private VIP intensive care unit without delay, for isolated monitoring.”

Isolde didn’t hesitate. “Then transfer him immediately. Arrange it now — I will cover every cost.”

The doctor’s expression tightened, his brows drawing together. “Miss Carson, I understand. But this is not a question of money. All VIP intensive care units are at full capacity. Admission is only possible through the official waiting list.”

Ellyn’s legs buckled. Isolde caught her before she fell. Ellyn seized the doctor’s white coat with both trembling hands, her voice breaking completely.

“A waiting list takes days. He can barely last twenty-four hours. How is he supposed to hold on, Doctor?”

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