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.”

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

I’m doing. This 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

“And you diagnosed that how, with your intuition? Get out. Don’t pretend

argue. She reached into her bag, pulled out a

the bed.

to explain. I’m

she swept past

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in the Hospital Heir to a

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the top of the head. As the needle pierced the skin, the heart

What are you doing?!” one of the family members shrieked,

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

member froze, lips trembling, eyes wide

of the needle. Gradually, the heart monitor stabilized. The

silent.

moved to the

breath. Every eye was locked on

beaded on Sloane’s brow as she carefully measured depth and angle. Slowly, the old man’s breathing steadied. The ghostly pallor on his face

the family burst into tears, crowding around the

Dr. Benjamin and the hospital’s elderly director

the director caught sight of Sloane’s needlework, his pupils contracted. He took a staggering step forward, voice trembling

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