"I originally intended to use peripheral blood for collection so Tamara wouldn't be harmed. But the machine for the procedure broke, and that intern nurse—she went ahead and used the pelvic method without my knowledge."
Emerald glanced at the young intern nurse, who looked like she had just graduated. Her face turned pale as she heard Emerald's words.
"I'll go and fire her immediately. Please, Celestine, just agree to let us collect the peripheral blood."
The intern's eyes widened in shock. "Dr. Winston, you told me to use the bone—"
"Enough!" Emerald snapped, her voice cutting through the intern's protest. "You've made such a grave mistake and still want to argue? If I record this in your performance evaluation, no hospital will ever want you!"
The terrified intern fled in tears, too frightened to defend herself further.
The crowd murmured amongst themselves, realizing they might have misunderstood Emerald. To them, she now seemed like a desperate mother trying to save her son. What ill intentions could she possibly have?
Clinton tenderly helped Emerald to her feet, gently wiping away her tears and the dust from her knees. Then, turning his fury toward me, he growled, "Emerald's already done all this, and you still won't help Yale?"
He sneered, his eyes blazing. "Using the peripheral blood collection method means the blood is reintroduced into the body after collection. You have no more excuses now, do you?"
I narrowed my eyes. "So, you know about these different methods of bone marrow collection, don't you?" I mocked, tightening my hold on Tamara.
Clinton's face darkened for a moment, but he quickly recovered, his voice growing colder. "Of course, with Yale's condition, I had to research transplant methods. Tamara is incredibly lucky to be able to help him."
He took a step closer, his voice hardening. "Celestine, Yale is also just six years old. Can you really watch him die?"
"All it takes is a little blood to save him. Are you truly this cruel and heartless?" With that, he lunged forward, trying to snatch Tamara from my arms.
"No!" I cried, struggling to stop him, but my arms, already weak from holding Tamara for so long, couldn't keep him at bay. Clinton wrenched her away from me.
In the scuffle, he yanked off the bandage covering Tamara's wound, causing fresh blood to seep out. He didn't even notice and was about to send her back into the operating room.