I fell silent.
Fine. So be it.
Perhaps this was simply my father-in-law's fate. His own daughter was determined to let him die—what could I, an outsider, possibly do?
I turned, picked up the iodine and a cotton swab from the tray, and walked toward Rick.
The moment the swab touched his face, he sucked in a sharp breath, exaggerating the pain.
Clara exploded instantly, shouting at me, "Be careful! Are you doing this on purpose? Tommy, I'm warning you!"
I didn't even lift my eyes, my voice flat. "Disinfecting stings. If you think I'm doing it on purpose, find someone else to do it."
That shut her up for a moment. After a pause, she gritted her teeth. "Stop wasting time. Treat Rick now."
I looked at the tiny scrape on Rick's face—so minor it was almost invisible. I genuinely couldn't understand what she was so anxious about. The wound wasn't even as big as the nick I'd accidentally given myself while shaving that morning.
A few minutes later, I placed a bandage over it. Done.
But Clara grabbed me again, her face full of suspicion. "That's it? You're calling that treated? Do you even realize Rick is an influencer with millions of followers? Do you know how important his face is? What if it scars? Tommy, are you doing this on purpose?"
I was speechless.
"At this rate, if he'd come any later, it would've healed on its own. In a few days, you won't even see a mark."
"Clara, forget it. I trust Tommy. Even if it does leave a scar, it's fine. I won't blame him."
Rick's syrupy, manipulative tone completely ignited Clara's distrust.
She pulled out her phone and dialed her assistant. "Contact the best plastic surgeon in the city immediately. Hurry! I don't trust Tommy's skills!"
No sooner had she finished speaking than the same young nurse rushed back in—this time with our family's old steward.
"Dr. Connolly! This is bad! The surgeon who took over isn't steady enough—there's massive bleeding! Please, get in there now! If you're any later, then it'll really—"
Clara's expression turned icy. "If there's bleeding, then there's bleeding. I already said—Tommy isn't going."
The old steward, who had served my father-in-law for thirty years, was now in tears, frantic with desperation.
"Ms. Stevens! What are you saying? Mr. Stevens is waiting to be saved. Please, just let Dr. Connolly go in!"
Clara's eyes brimmed with impatience. "Shut up. You're just a servant—since when do you get to speak here? Say one more word, and you can pack your things and get out!"
The steward had stayed with the Stevens family all these years out of loyalty and decades of shared history. Now, staring at the cold, unrecognizable Clara before him, his disappointment turned instantly into fury.
He pointed at her, his voice trembling. "Unfilial! You are truly an unfilial daughter!"
With that, he refused to look at her again and turned to wait outside the operating room.
As a doctor, my instincts were still struggling inside me. I couldn't help but speak again. "Clara, since you've already called another doctor for Rick, let me go to the operating room. All right?"
Such a reasonable request made her hesitate for a brief moment. Her lips pressed together, as if weighing her options.
At that moment, Rick suddenly covered his face and let out soft sobs.
"Clara… does that mean I'm not important at all? Maybe you should just leave me too… go wait outside the operating room instead."
With that calculated retreat, her fleeting hesitation vanished instantly.
"Tommy, I said—you are not going!"
Rick had achieved his goal, yet he wasn't done. He suddenly let out an exaggerated scream, his fingers trembling as he clutched his face.
"Ah! It hurts so much! Clara, my face—it hurts! Did he put something poisonous on me? Tommy, how vicious can you be? You're trying to disfigure me on purpose!"
