Chapter 430 - 433: Going Out on Some Business

Wren watched as Claire Bennett was about to turn down the corridor, her figure about to disappear from sight. She quickened her pace, wanting to follow.

Just then, the gentle, clear voice of a medical staff member called out from behind her.

"Mrs. Lancaster, Mr. Lancaster’s surgery is complete. It went very smoothly."

Wren froze and turned back to look at the opening doors of the operating room.

Without hesitation, she put Claire Bennett out of her mind for the moment and quickly turned back toward the operating room.

Right now, nothing and no one was more important than Adrian Lancaster, who had just come off the operating table.

She wouldn’t ignore the man who had willingly undergone a vasectomy for her just to chase down an unknown lead.

Soon, a nurse emerged from the operating room, pushing a hospital bed with Adrian Lancaster lying on it.

He was conscious and his eyes were clear, free of the grogginess that follows general anesthesia. His face was just a little pale, and his lips had lost some of their color.

The moment he saw Wren, the slight tension in Adrian Lancaster’s brow eased instantly. He gently lifted the hand resting at his side and reached out toward her.

Wren rushed forward to grasp his hand, a prickle of emotion stinging her nose as she carefully studied his condition.

"Honey, the doctor said the surgery was a success. Thank you for going through this."

"Yes, don’t worry. I’m fine."

Once she confirmed Adrian Lancaster was lucid and not in any discomfort, Wren’s anxious heart finally settled, but she still felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"Is it going to hurt when the anesthesia wears off?"

Adrian Lancaster shook his head, smiling. "It doesn’t hurt. There’s just a slight, heavy sensation, but it’ll be better soon."

"Really?" Wren asked softly.

Seeing the worry in his wife’s eyes, Adrian Lancaster raised a hand to stroke her face, gently reassuring her. "Really. I promise."

The attending physician accompanying them explained the post-operative instructions to Wren in a gentle tone.

"Mrs. Lancaster, please don’t worry. The surgery was a complete success. We used a local anesthetic, so it’s a very minor procedure."

"He’ll need to rest in the observation room for two hours post-op. As long as we can confirm there are no abnormalities like bleeding, dizziness, or infection, he can be discharged."

"He should avoid strenuous exercise and emotional swings for the time being. He also needs to stay away from spicy foods, take his medication as prescribed, and he should be fully recovered in about a week."

Wren committed every word to memory, nodding repeatedly. "Thank you, Doctor. We appreciate it."

"Of course, Mrs. Lancaster."

Subsequently, Adrian Lancaster was wheeled into a private VIP observation room, with Wren remaining by his side every second.

She carefully moistened Adrian Lancaster’s dry lips with a sterile cotton swab dipped in cool water.

Every so often, she would reach out to check his temperature, asking if he was uncomfortable, if his incision hurt, or if he needed to turn over...

Adrian Lancaster watched the taut concern etched into his wife’s features and savored her meticulous care, his heart filled with a soft warmth.

He couldn’t resist taking her hand and holding it tightly in his own.

"Honey, thank you for being here with me, for taking care of me. Don’t worry. I’m a grown man, and this is just a minor surgery. It’s nothing to be so worried about. Please, sit down and rest for a while. Stop fussing over me."

Wren leaned down and hugged Adrian.

"Okay, I believe you. My husband is the best."

Adrian was overjoyed. He let out a soft chuckle, and before Wren could straighten up, he raised a hand, gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead, and pressed a kiss between her eyebrows.

"I love you."

A smile graced Wren’s lips as she replied softly, "I love you too."

The two-hour observation period passed quickly.

The doctor returned for a follow-up examination, confirming that the surgical site showed no signs of bleeding or swelling. With no adverse reactions, Adrian was cleared for discharge.

Someone else was responsible for handling the discharge paperwork, so Wren didn’t have to worry about it.

She helped Adrian out of his hospital gown and into his own clothes, then bent down to straighten the cuffs of his pants before carefully helping him rise slowly from the bed.

"Slowly now, there’s no rush. The car is right downstairs."

Adrian took the opportunity to wrap an arm around Wren’s waist, his steps steady as he walked forward. "Let’s go home."

The two left the observation room, crossed the corridor, and headed for the elevator.

Their private car was already waiting downstairs. The chauffeur had set the temperature inside to a comfortable level and arranged soft cushions on the seats.

When the chauffeur saw Wren helping Adrian out of the building, he quickly came forward to assist.

"Young Madam, allow me."

He carefully helped Adrian into the back seat.

Wren got in right after, sitting close to Adrian and shielding him throughout the ride to prevent any jolts from aggravating his incision.

The car pulled away from the hospital smoothly.

...

After arriving home, Wren helped Adrian upstairs to the bedroom, changed him into lounge clothes, and settled him in bed to rest.

"Honey, for the next week, I want you in bed at all times, except to use the restroom. No walking around," Wren instructed sternly, like a teacher giving out an assignment.

Adrian chuckled, his features relaxing. "Honey, you don’t have to be so dramatic. The doctor never said I couldn’t get up and walk."

"The doctor said you need to rest. And ’rest’ means not getting out of bed, doesn’t it?" Wren argued, as if it were obvious.

Adrian was about to say something else, but she cut him off.

"Honey, please listen to me. Just for one week. Otherwise, I’ll worry."

"Last time, when I burned the back of my hand, you were so worried you made me stay in bed for five days, and I listened to you."

"This time, it’s your turn to listen and cooperate with me, okay?"

His wife had made her case, her tone soft and coaxing, every word brimming with concern for her husband.

How could Adrian possibly refuse? His heart felt as if it were melting in a cloud of cotton candy.

"Alright, I’ll do whatever my wife says."

"That’s more like it." Wren smiled, pleased.

"You haven’t eaten all morning. You must be hungry."

Just as she said that, a maid knocked and entered, carrying a nutritious, well-prepared lunch into the bedroom.

Wren helped Adrian sit up against the headboard, then washed her hands and began to feed him herself.

Adrian was so overcome with happiness he was at a loss for words, his gaze fixed on Wren, burning with deep affection.

Wren felt a flush of heat under his intense gaze and chided him playfully, "Don’t stare at me like that. Concentrate on eating."

The smile spreading across Adrian’s lips only grew wider.

After they finished eating, Wren personally made sure Adrian took his medication.

They talked for a little while until drowsiness overcame Adrian, and he unknowingly drifted off to sleep.

Wren tucked the blanket around him and sat with him quietly for a bit before getting up, leaving the bedroom, and heading downstairs.

"Young Madam, where are you going? You haven’t had lunch yet."

"I’ll eat when I get back. I have to go run an errand. Adrian is asleep, so don’t take the baby in there and disturb him."

With that, Wren got in a car and left the Lancaster estate.

The chauffeur did as he was told, returning to the private hospital and parking out front.

The afternoon sun slanted across the polished floor of the corridor. The private hospital was relatively quiet, and the hallway was silent.

Wren went to the correct floor and followed the same path she had seen Claire Bennett take that morning, walking all the way to the end of the corridor.

There were no intersecting hallways. After she rounded a sharp corner, the view opened up before her.

Beyond the turn, the entire stretch of hallway contained only a single, isolated clinic. There were no other departments, no other passages.

On the doorframe was a clean, neat metal plaque. The words on it were written clearly: Department of Rehabilitation Medicine · Prosthetics & Orthotics Center

Wren stood before the clinic door, her face a mask of shock. It felt as if the blood in her veins had frozen solid.

"..."

’Only patients who need to be fitted for, maintain, or have follow-up appointments for a prosthesis would come to this department. An able-bodied person would have no reason to be here.’

’Combined with the way I saw Claire Bennett walking in the hall today... her left leg was clearly abnormal.’

Wren took a deep breath. Countless theories flashed through her mind, each one bringing her closer to the truth.

’It seems Claire Bennett’s left leg is fake. She wears a prosthesis.’

’Claire Bennett... had an amputation...’