Chapter 8
The wind howled outside the hospital window, making Scarlett burrow deeper under her
blankets with a small shiver.
Elías noticed immediately and rose to close the window tighter. As he watched the chaotic gusts sending fallen leaves spiraling across the parking lot, Charlotte’s image unexpectedly
surfaced in his mind.
She had looked so damn fragile today–paper–thin and ghostly pale. Just looking at her, Elias could almost feel the echo of her pain. If he had chosen to give her the anesthesia instead…
Elias shook his head sharply, annoyed at himself for even considering the alternative. If he had chosen Charlotte, Scarlett would have been the one suffering. Scarlett had always been sensitive to pain, while Charlotte… well, Charlotte was tough. She’d understand his choice.
She always did.
Decision justified in his mind, Elias turned back to Scarlett with a tender smile, leaning down to press a lingering kiss on her forehead. The nagging thought of Charlotte’s ashen face as she limped away was firmly pushed aside.
Five days later, Scarlett was finally discharged from the hospital.
It wasn’t until Elias had carefully settled her into the back of his Audi that he remembered–with a jolt of something like guilt–that Charlotte was still at the hospital. He smacked his forehead lightly. He should go back for her. After all, she had just donated a kidney to save Scarlett. The least he could do was give her a ride home.
When Elias returned to the hospital, he suddenly realized he didn’t even know Charlotte’s room number. For the past five days, he had been completely focused on Scarlett, barely sparing a thought for Charlotte’s existence.
Frowning, he stopped a passing nurse. “Excuse me, do you know which room Charlotte
Whitmore is in?”
“Charlotte Whitmore?” The nurse checked her tablet. “We don’t have a patient by that name
currently.”
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The Moment I Let Go My Uncle: Escaping the Forbidden Past
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Chapter 8
Elias’s expression darkened. “That’s impossible. She had kidney donation surgery the same day as my fiancée, Scarlett Yates.”
The nurse’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh! The donor without anesthesia. I remember
now. She was discharged five days ago.”
“Discharged?” Elias stared at her in disbelief. “That can’t be right. She had just undergone
major surgery.”
“I’m certain,” the nurse insisted. “The doctors strongly advised against it, but she was
adamant about leaving. Said she had somewhere important to be.”
As the nurse walked away, Elias stood frozen in place, an unfamiliar tightness gripping his
chest. Five days ago–the day of the surgery. That meant when she said she was going for a walk, she was actually leaving the hospital altogether.
A disturbing thought suddenly crystallized in his mind: Charlotte was gone.
But he immediately rejected the idea with a short, dismissive laugh. It was ridiculous.
Charlotte had been in love with him for years–she’d donated part of her liver for him, for
God’s sake. She wouldn’t just leave. Not Charlotte. Not the girl who wrote him those
embarrassing weekly love letters.
She must have been uncomfortable in the hospital and decided to recover at home instead. Yes, that had to be it. Charlotte was predictable that way.
Reassured by his own logic, Elias hurried back to the car where Scarlett waited.
“Where’s Charlotte?” she asked, looking past him expectantly.
Elias’s expression hardened. “Don’t worry about her. Let’s go home.”
When they arrived at the mansion, Elias impatiently called Charlotte’s name, receiving only echoing silence in response. A flicker of unease crept up his spine, but he pushed it away.
He took the stairs two at a time, pushing open her bedroom door to find a hunched figure sorting through drawers.
A smirk of vindication crossed his face. He knew Charlotte couldn’t leave him. She never
could.
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The Moment I Let Go My Uncle: Escaping the Forbidden Past
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Chapter 8
“Seriously, Charlotte?” he said sharply. “Checking yourself out of the hospital without telling anyone? What were you thinking? Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for you?”
But when the figure turned around, it wasn’t Charlotte–it was Mrs. Peterson, the housekeeper, her eyes wide with alarm.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Delaney,” she stammered. “Miss Whitmore left the house five days ago. I was just… cleaning her room.”
The smirk froze on Elias’s face as something cold and unfamiliar settled in his stomach.
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