Stella turned to see Antoney escorting a distinguished older man, Mr. Burton. He was flanked by several doctors in white coats who were urgently briefing him on Joshua's condition.
The sight of Mr. Burton brought a rush of tears to Stella's eyes. The crushing weight on her chest eased, as if she were seeing a beloved family member.
"Mr. Burton," she said, her voice thick as she went to meet him.
Mr. Burton had been filled in on the way over. He placed a comforting hand on Stella's shoulder. "Stella, don't you worry," he said in a warm, steady voice. "As long as that boy has a single breath left in him, I'll pull him back from the brink. You can trust me with his surgery."
Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "Thank you, Mr. Burton. Thank you."
She had called him on the way to the hospital, and he had agreed to come without hesitation. Entrusting Antoney to bring him had been the safest and most reliable choice.
Harold and Jake's tense expressions also softened with relief. Mr. Burton was a legend who had retired years ago, vowing never to set foot in an operating room again. He ran a small clinic, prescribing medicine, but it was nearly impossible to persuade him to perform surgery. His skill was beyond question; even they knew of no one better.
As Mr. Burton disappeared into the OR, Jake glanced down at his phone, a strange look crossing his face.
"What is it?" Harold asked in a low voice.
"I think I made a mistake," Jake muttered.
"What happened?"
Jake showed him the text on his phone. Harold's eyes widened when he saw the recipient's name.
"Why did you call *her*?" he hissed, keeping his voice down.

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