Page 73 of Obsessing Over His Favorite
As he turned the corner, he spotted Taylor pacing outside, eyebrows furrowed with impatience.
The moment Taylor saw Lucas approaching, he stopped mid-step, eyes narrowing.
Lucas didn’t break stride. “Where’s the doctor who treated Emily after the night of her accident?”
Taylor blinked. “Why? What’s going on? Did something—”
“Just take me to him,” Lucas snapped. “Now.”
Taylor exhaled loudly, running a hand through his hair. He turned and walked quickly, Lucas right behind him.
They reached the doctor’s office a few minutes later. Taylor knocked briefly before entering.
Inside, the doctor stood up from behind his desk, eyes lighting up when he recognized Lucas. “Mr. Cantrell—what a surprise! We didn’t meet properly last time, but it’s an honor to see you face to face. If something’s wrong, I’d be glad to personally examine you.”
Lucas didn’t return the smile. His gaze was cold, silent. The doctor hesitated, nervousness flickering across his face.
‘Isn’t this the same VIP donor who funds half the hospital?’ He shifted in his seat, spine stiff, palms damp as he hurriedly leaned forward and placed a glass of water in front of Lucas with trembling hands.
Lucas didn’t touch it.
A bead of sweat trickled down the doctor’s temple. ‘I already treated his family member—what’s going on now? She was discharged already. She seemed fine. Those clots on her head... they were supposed to dissolve on their own. Did something go wrong?’
The doctor’s heartbeat picked up.
The man was sitting unnervingly still, jaw clenched, legs spread apart with both arms resting heavily on the chair’s armrests—like a king demanding answers. That unreadable expression, coupled with his silence, made the room suffocating.
“I believe you treated a patient named Emily Crawford a few days ago,” Lucas said, voice cold as ice.
“Yes,” the doctor replied instantly, voice higher than normal, nodding too fast. “Yes, I remember. She’s already been discharged, Mr. Cantrell. Is... is there a problem?”
Lucas leaned forward slowly, the muscles in his arms flexing as his palms braced against his knees. His eyes narrowed, dark with suspicion.
“What was her condition when she came in after the accident? Was she stable? Was she okay when you discharged her? Was there anything serious—especially concerning her head?”
The doctor straightened, pulling at his collar as if the air had suddenly thickened.
“I’m not sure what you're implying, Mr. Cantrell,” he said, fumbling to compose himself. “We treated her thoroughly. All wounds were dressed with care. Dr. Taylor informed us she was someone important to you, so we ensured she received top priority. Head to toe, everything was handled properly.”
Lucas leaned forward, his voice sharp. “How serious was her head injury?”
The doctor visibly flinched. His fingers tapped nervously against the desk before clenching into a fist on his thigh. Sweat trickled down the side of his temple as Lucas’s words struck a pressure point.
“Is there any chance,” Lucas pressed, voice low and slow, “that she lost her memory because of that injury?”
A cold chill swept over the doctor. His back went ramrod straight. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
‘That cut on her scalp. That blood clot. The temporary death…’
He couldn’t afford to mess this up.
He clasped his hands together tightly, forcing a composed smile. “Mr. Cantrell, Ms. Crawford did come in with a head injury. Yes, there were signs of impact. But we acted quickly. The best neurologists were assigned. I promise, we treated her with the highest level of care. She was fully conscious, responding, and stable when we discharged her.”
Lucas said nothing, just watched him. The doctor could feel the man’s scrutiny burning through his skin.
Desperate to stay composed, he kept talking. “Any complications from that kind of head injury—if therewereany—should have resolved in a few days. All her vitals were stabilized before discharge. Our reports to you mentioned the same.”
He was sweating visibly now. His nerves were shot.
