Chapter 7

Gabriel's face changed instantly, and he rushed out of the manor.

When Irene arrived at the hospital, the attending physician had just walked out of the emergency room, peeling off gloves stained with blood.

He looked at Gabriel with a grave expression and announced, "Ms. Baker's condition is critical. Her hematopoietic function has completely collapsed. We must perform a bone marrow transplant immediately. If we wait even a minute longer, she could die from intracranial hemorrhage. Can you please contact the donor?"

Before Gabriel could answer, Irene’s voice came from behind him: "I can do it."

Irene walked over, clutching the side of her face that was swollen and red from the slap. Her heart was now numb, devoid of any hesitation.

She only wanted to pay off this debt as quickly as possible, leave Gabriel, leave the Thorne family, sever all ties, and never look back.

A complex emotion flashed through Gabriel's eyes. He looked at the finger marks on her face, his Adam's apple bobbing as he murmured hoarsely, "Thank you."

Irene did not respond. Instead, she unlocked her phone and changed her flight to Istanbul to late that very night.

Twenty minutes later, she lay prone on the operating table. What she felt in that moment was not fear, but relief and freedom.

Just as the doctor was preparing for the puncture, the anesthesiologist rushed in, panic-stricken: "There's a problem. Ms. Lockhart just fell down the stairs and shows signs of a concussion. Plus, she just donated blood, so her blood pressure is too low. If we use general anesthesia now, she will likely go into cardiac arrest!"

The doctor frowned deeply, then went out to confer with Gabriel.

Moments later, Irene heard Gabriel’s voice through the intercom—firm and ruthless: "Chloe cannot wait. If general anesthesia isn't an option, then use local. As long as it saves her, nothing else matters."

...

When the doctor returned, the look in his eyes was one of pure pity. "Ms. Lockhart, given your physical condition and Mr. Thorne's request, this bone marrow collection cannot be performed under general anesthesia. It will be excruciatingly painful. If you cannot accept this..."

"No need to explain. Just do it," Irene replied, her voice terribly calm.

Although Irene had anticipated this outcome, when the reality was laid bare before her, her heart turned completely cold. Gabriel, her only guardian, had unhesitatingly pushed her toward torture for the sake of another woman.

The doctor said no more and signaled the nurses to restrain her limbs.

The surgery was a living torture. The thick aspiration needle pierced the periosteum and drove into the iliac crest. Without general anesthesia, an agonizing, bone-dissolving acid pain exploded through her body instantly.

Veins bulged on Irene’s forehead, and cold sweat soaked the operating table. Although she clenched her teeth tightly enough to draw blood from her lips, she couldn't hold back a shrill, wretched scream.

By the time the collection ended, she had long since passed out from the pain.

...

When Irene woke up, the ward was empty. Only a nurse came in to change her dressing, casting a concerned look her way. "Ms. Lockhart, you're awake. Your guardian is truly heartless; for the sake of his fiancée, he actually let you suffer such torment."

Irene merely responded with a weak, ghost-like smile and said nothing. After the nurse left, she glanced at the clock on the wall.

Three hours left until boarding. Just enough time to grab her luggage and rush to JFK Airport.

She let out a soft breath of relief and tried to get out of bed, but a tidal wave of agony washed over her lower back. Every movement felt like a saw cutting through her bones.

Even so, the thought of leaving Gabriel forever made her grit her teeth, brace herself against the bed rail, and step onto the floor.

After struggling to change out of her hospital gown, she took out the agreement for the dissolution of guardianship she had prepared long ago. Then, dragging her feet, she shuffled step by step toward Chloe’s intensive care unit.

...

In the ward, Gabriel was staring at the IV drip, completely unaware of Irene’s entrance. It wasn't until she thrust the document in front of him that he finally noticed her.

Upon seeing the contents of the document, his face darkened. He lowered his voice to a growl: "What is the meaning of this? At a time like this, are you seriously trying to cut ties with me?"

"I told you, we have nothing between us but a guardianship. Why do you have to use this method to get attention?"

Irene was sweating profusely from the pain, her face as pale as paper. She gritted her teeth, forcing a few words through her clenched jaw: "You promised. Sign it."

Gabriel looked at her teetering figure and felt an inexplicable surge of irritation and panic. To stop her from continuing this farce, he snatched the pen from her hand and signed his name on the document.

Irene was finally free. She took back the document, turned, and limped toward the exit.

Gabriel frowned and asked, "You just finished the aspiration; your body is weak. Why aren't you wearing your hospital gown and resting? Where are you going dressed like that?"

Irene swallowed the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. Her frail body looked as if it would collapse at any moment. "The hospital is too stuffy. I just want to go out for some fresh air."

Gabriel looked at her back and said something that sounded rare and caring: "It's raining outside. Come back soon."

Irene gave a soft acknowledgment, but deep in her heart, she murmured, *I won't be coming back, Gabriel.*

She picked up her simple luggage, dragged her battered body to the airport, and boarded the flight to Istanbul.

As the plane pierced through the clouds, leaving the glittering nightscape of New York behind, she looked back one last time at the city. "Goodbye, the cage I lived in for eleven years. Goodbye, Gabriel."