Heir to a Lost

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Chapter 102 Emergency in the Hospital

Technique

Appliepie’s parents stared at Sloane, their expressions torn between disbelief, shock, and a deep, complicated anger. Boone’s fate–committed to a psychiatric hospital for life—was hard to process, even after everything he had done.

After a long pause, Appliepie’s mother murmured, “I guess… that’s karma.”

Sloane didn’t linger. After finishing the acupuncture session, she left behind a personalized massage and rehabilitation regimen for Appliepie’s father, then quietly exited the ward.

But as she passed by a nearby room, her steps came to a sudden stop.

Inside, several doctors were gathered around a hospital bed, their faces grave. On the bed lay an elderly man, pale as paper. The monitor beside him showed dangerously weak vitals.

“Prepare the cardiac stimulant,” the attending physician instructed. “Standard dose.”

Sloane’s expression changed. She pushed the door open without hesitation.

“Stop! Don’t inject that! You’ve misdiagnosed him!”

Her voice cut through the tension like a blade. The room went silent. All eyes snapped to her.

The attending physician frowned, clearly annoyed. “Who are you? This is a critical patient. Don’t interfere.”

her, bristling with anger. “Who do you think you are? If something happens to our father because of you, can

isn’t a typical cardiac condition–this is a rare form of variant cardiomyopathy. If you give him that stimulant, you’ll only accelerate the

out. Don’t pretend to be a doctor just because you’ve read a

didn’t argue. She reached into her bag, pulled out

the bed.

explain. I’m

protests, she swept past them, stepping up

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102 Emergency in the Hospital Heir to a Lost

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the top of the head. As the needle pierced the skin, the heart monitor suddenly flared with jagged spikes,

of the family members shrieked,

them. “Wait! That needle’s near the cerebral cortex. One wrong move and

froze, lips trembling,

fingers remained steady as she adjusted the angle and pressure of the needle.

silent.

the second needle–straight to

room held its breath. Every eye was locked

angle. Slowly, the old man’s breathing steadied. The ghostly pallor on his face gave way to a

family burst into tears,

the doors burst open. Dr. Benjamin and

Sloane’s needlework, his pupils contracted. He took a staggering step forward,

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