Chapter 416

Isabella felt something wet on the back of her hand, and her heart sank.

Everyone was fussing over Lova in the next bed.

Isabella shut her eyes and whispered, "Mom, I don't want to die."

Esme just cried.

Isabella stared at the ceiling, tears streaming down her face. "I still have Sweetie, Seb, and Nina. They're waiting for me, Mom."

"Bella," Esme's voice cracked. "I'm sorry."

"Mom, I'm your daughter too. You left me once. Are you going to do it again?" Isabella's tears fell like rain, her heart breaking.

Esme kept saying, "Bella, I'm sorry."

Isabella closed her eyes. Esme had apologized like this before, and Isabella had forgiven her, thinking it would make things right. She didn't want her mom to live with guilt.

But now, Isabella realized Esme's apologies were just words to ease her own guilt. They weren't for Isabella; they were for Esme. How fake and disgusting.

Isabella didn't want to talk anymore. She pulled her hand away. "Go. I never want to see you again."

"Bella," Esme's lips trembled, her face full of pain.

But Isabella didn't look back.

Quentin came over and helped the shaky Esme out. "Mom, sit here for a bit. The surgery will be over soon."

Esme grabbed Quentin's hand. "Quentin, what are the chances? Can Lova get better? Does Bella have to die? Is there no other way?"

Quentin paused, patted Esme's hand, and said, "I'm confident. Mom, if Lova can get better, it's worth it. Bella is her sister, even if they didn't grow up together. If it were Nina, Bella would do the same."

Esme's expression softened a bit.

Quentin continued, "Mom, Lova has suffered so much. If we give up now, what was all her suffering for? You saw Lova. Did you see the hope in her eyes? Isabella is her only hope. Are you going to take that away?"

Esme's heart ached. "No. But Bella..."

Quentin said, "Whether the surgery works or not, I'll make it up to Bella. If she dies, I'll bring Sweetie to Silvercrest. Lova and I will raise Sweetie as our own. What we couldn't give Isabella, we'll give to Sweetie tenfold. We'll make her the happiest girl. You can help raise her too. It'll be a way to make up for Isabella."

Esme said nothing, just looked at Quentin. "Quentin, you have to save Lova!"

Quentin sighed in relief. "Don't worry. I want Lova to live more than anyone!"

A doctor walked over. "Mr. Black, everything's set. We're just waiting on you."

"Got it," Quentin nodded. "Mom, I'm going to start Lova's surgery now. You'll see her soon."

With that, Quentin turned and left.

Esme was in a daze for a moment, then she got up and followed. "Quentin, I want to watch. Let me go with you."

Quentin frowned. "Mom, it's best if you don't."

He refused her and instructed someone nearby, "Take care of Mrs. Black."

As Esme watched Quentin walk into the operating room, and then the door closed, she took a couple of shaky steps back and almost fell.

One of Quentin's men said, "Mrs. Black, please sit and wait. The surgery will be quick."

Esme sat on the bench, but her mind was filled with the image of Bella crying and begging her. "Mom, I don't want to die."

"Bella, Bella," Esme started crying again.

"Administer the anesthesia."

"Blood pressure normal, heart rate normal, pulse normal, the surgery can begin."

Isabella lay on the hospital bed, listening to the people around her chattering like they were counting numbers.

Quentin had already changed into a white coat; he was taller and more prominent than everyone else. He bent down, his gloved hand gently caressing Lova's cheek. "Lova, welcome back."

Suddenly, Quentin felt a gaze on him. He looked up and met Isabella's eyes.

Isabella stared at him. "Quentin, I will remember your face. Even after I die, I won't let you go!"

Quentin frowned. Isabella's gaze made him feel uncomfortable, like he was being skinned alive.

Quentin said nothing and told the anesthetist, "You can anesthetize her now."

The anesthetist walked over with the syringe and injected the anesthetic into Isabella's vein.

Under the drug's effect, Isabella blacked out within seconds, losing all consciousness.

The anesthetist said, "Mr. Black, we can start now."

"Okay." Quentin pulled up his mask, but at that moment, a hand grabbed his pinky finger.

Quentin looked down. First, he saw the emaciated hand, merely skin and bone, and then, following the line of that hand upwards, he met Lova's eyes. "Lova?"

Years later, he finally saw a spark in Lova's eyes, which had been dull before.

Quentin was a bit emotional. He held Lova's hand tightly. "Lova, do you recognize me?"

Under the oxygen mask, Lova moved her mouth slightly, making no sound, but it was a response to Quentin.

Quentin was almost in tears with joy. "I knew it. My decision was right. Lova, don't worry. I will save you!"

He was full of confidence, but Lova slowly shook her head.

Lova's outstretched finger wrote a single word on Quentin's hand: [No.]

Quentin's pupils contracted sharply. "You refuse the surgery?"

Lova slowly closed her eyes.

Quentin refused her, "Lova, you must have this surgery! I've prepared too long for this day. I can't give up now. Lova, hold on. The surgery will be quick."

Lova closed her eyes in disappointment, a tear sliding down her cheek.

Quentin kissed away her tear, then he stood up, his voice more determined than before. "Start the surgery!"