His After The Heartbreak (BL)-Chapter 176: Deal With Those Bastards

Chapter 176 – Deal With Those Bastards

Declan’s POV

I didn’t wait for permission.

I pushed the ER doors wide open with both hands and dragged Beatrice’s hospital bed in with me like a madman.

The wheels screeched against the floor as I shoved her bed across the room. I didn’t even look back.

"Move!" I shouted. "Get in here and do your damn jobs!"

The surgeon and doctor behind me froze at the door for a second, hesitating like I was leading them into a crime scene. I didn’t give them time to think twice.

"Now!" I snapped at them, and just like that, they followed me in.

The surgeon who was already operating on someone inside turned around with a shocked look on his face, eyes wide like we had just crashed into his house. But I didn’t even blink.

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t care.

I wheeled Beatrice straight to the second operating table.

Lucky for everyone, there were two beds in here. Two setups. Two surgery spaces.

If there had only been one? I would’ve dragged that other patient out myself—don’t care who they are. I would’ve pulled the plug if I had to.

The nurses rushed around, finally getting the message. They ran to grab scrubs, gloves, masks—whatever they needed to start.

And there I stood, arms folded tight across my chest.

It’s crazy, isn’t it?

I own over 90% of this damn hospital, and I still don’t know shit about how it runs. It’s not exactly like I come here every day.

I glanced at the big wall clock that hung just above the operating lights.

Thirty-five minutes left.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. "Oh fuck... oh shit..."

I cursed quietly, pacing back and forth like a lion trapped in a small cage.

What the hell would I tell Tyler if Beatrice died?

How do I explain this to my son?

"She didn’t make it?" No. No way in hell I’m saying that.

I tried to shove the thought out of my head and focus on the moment—on hope. Beatrice was strong. She just needed time. That’s all. Just thirty-five minutes, damn it. She could make it.

I looked back at the team. They were finally in place—gloves on, tools ready, everything set to go.

But then... they stopped.

They were staring at me.

"What?" I snapped. "Why the hell are you all looking at me? What’s the delay?"

No one said a word at first. Just silence.

Then one of the younger nurses stepped forward.

"Sir... you’re not allowed to be in here."

I blinked, slowly turning my head toward her.

"Excuse me?"

She swallowed and continued, "Only patients, surgeons, and nurses are allowed inside the ER during a procedure. Not even the board members. Not even... the owner."

I stared at her like she was speaking a different language.

"You’re telling me... that I can’t stay?" I said slowly, my voice rising with each word. "You’re saying... I have to leave and wait outside like some random idiot on a chair?"

"It’s hospital policy, sir," the surgeon added. "We just need you to step outside so we can focus. We promise we’ll—"

"Who made that rule?" I cut in, my voice sharp and loud now. "Who the fuck made that stupid rule?"

"You made the rule, sir."

The words echoed in my ears.

I froze.

My mind went blank for a second. Then everything came rushing back—like a slap to the face.

"Ooh shit," I cussed under my breath, dragging my hand down my face.

Of course. Of course I was the one who set that damn rule.

No family members allowed inside the ER during surgery. No exceptions. Not even if the patient is your child. Not even if it’s your spouse. Not even if the world is falling apart.

I made that rule myself.

Why?

Because emotions mess things up. I’ve seen people scream at doctors in the middle of operations, beg them to stop bleeding, ask them to "please save him!"—like that alone would bring someone back from the dead.

So I shut that down. I said, "Keep everyone out."

It was logical. It was clean. It was professional.

But now here I am.

Beatrice is lying half-dead on that table.

And I’m being told by my own hospital that I can’t stay with her.

Because of a rule I created.

A rule I never thought I’d have to fight against.

I let out a bitter laugh. "Glad you just said I made the rule," I said, my voice low.

"Because that means I can bend it too."

I turned toward the surgeon, my eyes burning. "I’m staying here. I don’t want to leave her sight. Or maybe..." I paused. "Maybe I just don’t want her to leave mine."

"We understand, sir," one of the nurses said.

And then the surgeon spoke up again. "With all due respect, sir... you were the one who said the rule cannot be bent. You said even if someone you cared about was being operated on, you shouldn’t be allowed inside. That no one should."

I stared at him.

Why the fuck did he have to remind me of that?

Why did I have to be so sure of myself back then?

I only made that rule because I believed—deep down—that nothing like this would ever happen to me. I thought no one close to me would be shot, or dying, or being rushed into emergency surgery while I stood by helpless.

I thought I was untouchable.

I thought my people were untouchable.

Turns out, life doesn’t give a shit about what I thought.

It does what it wants. And today, it did exactly that.

I’m not even here because of some deep love for Beatrice. Hell, I don’t even know what love is anymore.

I’m here... because of Tyler.

I want my son to look at me and not see a monster.

I want him to believe—even just for once—that I’m not the heartless bastard he thinks I am.

That I’m capable of protecting someone. Of standing by someone. Of not running away when things get hard.

I want him to see me as a father.

Maybe even a friend.

That’s why I’m doing this.

Not because Beatrice means the world to me, but because Tyler does.

"Sir..." the surgeon said again, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"We have thirty minutes left. We really need to begin. Please... excuse us."

I looked at him. Then at Beatrice.

She looked like she was hanging on by a thread.

I didn’t say anything. I just nodded slowly.

Then I turned toward the door.

But just before I could take a step forward, something inside me snapped.

I stopped.

I turned back toward them, my hand still hovering near the doorknob.

"Make sure you try all your best to save her," I told them, staring straight into the surgeon’s eyes. "Because she is my son’s everything... and I don’t want anything to happen to someone he holds that dear."

They nodded.

But I don’t even know if they truly understood what I meant. Maybe they did. Maybe they didn’t. I wasn’t in the mood to read faces or guess emotions.

I turned around and walked out of the room.

The moment I stepped outside the ER, I took a deep breath.

I dragged myself to the waiting area, the one where people usually sit down, staring at the walls, hoping for a miracle.

But I couldn’t sit.

I just... couldn’t.

Instead, I started pacing. Back and forth. Like a mad man.

One hand on my head, the other dragging down my face. I kept ruffling my hair, pulling at it like it would stop my thoughts from spinning.

Beatrice is in the ER, fighting for her life. frёeωebɳovel.com

And Tyler... my son... he’s nowhere to be found.

That’s two different problems.

And right now, I have no solution to either one.

I kept pacing.

I didn’t realize I had been moving like that for over thirty minutes. Maybe even more. I was just drowning in my thoughts—thinking about everything all at once.

What if she dies?

What if Tyler blames me?

What if he never forgives me?

What if this is all too late?

I don’t even know how long I stood there like that until I heard the sound that brought me back to reality.

The ER door flew open.

The surgeon walked out, his scrubs drenched in sweat, his hands slightly trembling.

I didn’t waste a second.

I ran to him cutting off his path before he could even take another step.

"How is she?" I asked, standing in front of him, my body blocking the hallway.

His face was half-covered with a mask, but I could see the sadness in his eyes.

My heart dropped.

Don’t tell me she’s gone.

Please... don’t.

"Answer me, surgeon," I said again, this time my voice sharper, louder, almost desperate. "How is she?!"

He looked up at me slowly, then removed his mask.

For a second, I saw a flicker of something on his face.

Then came a small smile.

"The surgery was successful," he said softly. "We were able to remove the last splinter of the bullet from her body."

I swear I almost dropped to my knees right there.

I didn’t even realize I had been holding my breath the whole time.

I exhaled. Slowly. Deeply. Like I just escaped death myself.

"She made it?" I asked again, just to be sure.

He nodded. "Yes, sir. She’s stable now. But we need to let her rest and recover properly. So, if you don’t mind, we’d prefer that you return tomorrow to check on her. She should be awake by then."

I stared at him for a second, then nodded.

"Alright," I said quietly, a tired smile crossing my face. "I’ll see you tomorrow then."

I gave him one last look and turned to leave.

Now that she was safe...

It was time.

Time to deal with those bastards.