Anticipating relief, Bruce was dismayed to find the ice cubes utterly ineffective. The agonizing pain and severe swelling persisted unabated.
His face contorted in anguish, Bruce, once a formidable warden, now crumpled to the ground, resembling a little girl soiling her skirt and weeping in a muddy puddle.
Concerned, Camilla queried, “Mr. Warden, is it any better?”
Bruce shook his head between sobs, despairingly admitting, “Help me think of something. I can’t endure this. It’s too much…”
Flustered, Camilla stammered, “I can’t think of anything…”
Then, she suggested, “What if I call 911 for help? Should I?”
“No!” Bruce blurted, realizing the consequences. “Calling 911 would ruin all of us!”
Bruce comprehended the peril of being in a federal prison, with the Rothschild family connections. A scandal tonight could ruin his career and relationships.
Enduring the torment, he pleaded, “Go to my pocket, get my phone. I need to make a call, find someone to help.”
Relieved at the thought of assistance, Camilla hurriedly retrieved Bruce’s phone.
Bruce’s call for help wasn’t directed at Charlie, the recent acquaintance, but at a friend, a physician at a nearby hospital.
Impatiently, Bruce exclaimed, “Mark, where are you?”
A middle-aged voice responded, “On duty at the hospital. What’s wrong?”
Bruce urgently revealed, “I’m in trouble. You might be the only one who can help me!”
inquired, “Bruce,
life-threatening situation, and you’re
“Where are you? I’ll come
Mark alone might be ill-equipped, Bruce insisted, “Prepare a private treatment room. No other doctor should touch me. I’ll
two or three times bigger than usual.
Mark exclaimed, “Did you take any
suddenly, like it’s possessed. It’s on
If
stammered, “I…I’ll be there right away!” He tossed the phone aside, locking eyes with Camilla and the other girl, urgency in his voice, “Quickly, help me
uttered, “Warden, you… I’m afraid
a sinking feeling in his heart. The awkward posture made wearing
Camilla suggested, “Warden, how about I get you
urging, “Go
Universes, donned in sunglasses and masks, flanked Bruce Weinstein, hastily wrapped in a bathrobe.
mercy, each step delivering torture akin to needles relentlessly piercing him. Yet, he understood the gravity of
Camilla, behind the wheel of Bruce Weinstein’s car, skillfully navigated
minutes later, the car halted at the hospital entrance. Bruce Weinstein’s close friend Mark awaited, pushing
door. Witnessing Bruce Weinstein curled up
April Fool’s Day. I don’t have the energy for pranks. For
the car. Observing Bruce’s silhouette through
exasperated, exclaimed, “Mark, I’m not here for jokes!
drugs first. Then, we’ll perform an angiogram to check for
in agony, veins protruding,
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