Chapter 84

He turned to Ivy, who was lying on the gurney, and teased, “You’re in luck! With such a minor wound, Professor Ludwig himself is handling your case.”

After that, he grabbed a sterile drape and covered Ivy’s head, leaving only the injured spot exposed.

“Nurse, I told you–I don’t want him working on me. Get someone else…” Ivy’s face was suddenly shrouded, her vision dimming, and her voice muffled under the cloth.

The nurse ignored her protests. Seeing that the cut ran close to Ivy’s hairline, she simply said, “We’ll need to shave some hair,” then deftly picked up a razor and got to work.

Right now, Ivy felt like a fish laid out on the chopping block–completely at their mercy.

“All done, Professor Ludwig,” the nurse announced.

“Alright,” Jamison replied gravely. He examined the wound, a frown creasing his brow, and stepped forward to begin cleaning it.

When the alcohol-soaked swab brushed over her skin, a bolt of pain shot through Ivy. Her whole body jerked and her hands clenched the fabric of her shirt in a white-knuckled grip.

“If it hurts, just scream,” Jamison said, matter-of-fact. He knew it stung, but disinfecting the wound was non-negotiable.

But Ivy wouldn’t show any weakness in front of him. She bit her tongue and stayed silent.

After a while, the pain was so intense her nerves went numb, and she drifted into a haze.

Jamison glanced at her chest, saw it rise and fall with each breath, and, reassured that she was still conscious, turned back to his task.

“I’m going to start stitching,” he warned, picking up tweezers and suture thread.

Ivy, her mind reeling from the pain, snapped out of her daze at his words. “You’re just going to sew it up like this? No anesthetic? Jamison, I need–ah!”

Before she could finish protesting, the needle pierced her skin.

The pain was so sharp, so sudden, she couldn’t hold back and let out a cry.

“It’s only three stitches. If I gave you anesthetic, that’d be another poke for nothing,” Jamison said coolly, his voice muffled behind his surgical mask as he continued working with practiced efficiency.

Even with the gloves on, the elegance and precision of his long, deft fingers were obvious.

His movements were calm and methodical, every stitch neat and measured.

Ivy was in so much pain she could barely speak, her jaw clamped tight. All she could do was pray he’d finish quickly, that time would speed up and put her out of her misery.

Her senses blurred, but she could feel each tug and pull of the thread through her skin, agony radiating so deep it drew cold sweat from her pores.

At last, there was a sharp snip–scissors slicing through the suture. Jamison’s voice, icy and detached, broke the silence. “Done.”

Ivy’s body went limp with relief, and only then did she realize tears were streaming down the sides of her face.

The nurse pulled away the sterile drape. The sudden burst of light made Ivy instinctively squeeze her eyes shut; when she opened them again, her lashes were still wet, her gaze vulnerable and fragile.

“Oh? You’re crying? And here I thought you weren’t afraid of pain.” Jamison peeled off his latex gloves, tossed them in the trash, and shot her a mocking glance.

Ivy didn’t bother replying, refusing even to look at him.

The nurse helped Ivy sit up and reminded her, “You need to go for an X-ray. Is anyone here with you?”

Ivy’s voice was hoarse. “No…” After a pause, she added, “I’ll be fine on my own. Just give me a minute.”

She moved to sit on a bench at the side. As another patient was wheeled in, the medical team launched into the next emergency with brisk efficiency.

After a few minutes, Ivy gathered her paperwork and stood to head for radiology.

But she’d barely taken a few steps before the world began to spin. It felt like she was drunk–her brain no longer in control of her legs, forcing her to steady herself against the wall.

Suddenly, a firm grip caught her under the arm, holding her upright.

Startled, she turned–and her expression immediately soured.

Jamison had taken off his mask, though the sterile cap still covered his hair, and he was still in his scrubs.

He looked nothing like the man she was used to seeing.