My Ex-husband Begged me to Save Him

"Greg, save Dr. Lambert now. That concrete slab is about to collapse. It's crushing her right hand." "Shut up. Rose has claustrophobia. The smoke is so thick here. If we don't get her out soon, she'll go into shock. Ronda is a surgeon. She has strong mental resilience. She can hold on." The new building site of Cyburris Hospital suddenly collapsed, sending clouds of dust into the air. Ronda Lambert was pinned beneath the reinforced concrete. A searing pain in her abdomen twisted together with a dead numbness in her right hand. Her body was long since drenched in cold sweat. She struggled to lift her head and peered through the dust-filled gaps and saw her husband, Greg Riley, the influential hospital director, carrying another woman and rushing towards the light without looking back. The woman was Rose Lloyd, Greg's junior from the same medical school. She had just returned to the country and joined the hospital yesterday. "Greg..." Ronda called out. Her voice was hoarse and broken, like it had been rubbed with sandpaper. She wanted to tell him that if the concrete slab wasn't moved now, her right hand would be ruined, and she would never be able to perform surgery again. She wanted to tell him she was pregnant. But Greg's retreating figure was unwavering, without so much as a pause for her. "Boom—" A secondary collapse struck. The heavy concrete slab bore down again. Amidst the audible crunch of bones, Ronda's vision blackened, and consciousness slipped away. ... When she woke again, it was in a hospital room filled with the smell of antiseptic. Ronda moved her fingers, only to find her entire right arm numb. She couldn't feel it at all. She sat up abruptly and lifted the blanket with her left hand, only to see her right arm wrapped in thick plaster and bandages. A lifeless silence emanated even through the gauze. The door to the room opened, and Greg walked in, dressed in a crisp dark gray suit. He still looked exhausted. But upon seeing Ronda awake, his expression quickly turned into his usual cold indifference and impatience. "Are you awake? Then stop playing dead." Greg walked to the foot of the bed and casually picked up the medical chart hanging at the headboard. He flipped through a few pages and said coldly, "You have a slight concussion and ulnar nerve contusion in the right arm. Ronda, you really went all out to embarrass me in front of the media. You stayed in the debris for hours. Was it fun?" Ronda looked at him in disbelief. Her pale lips trembled. "Greg, you're a doctor, too. You call this an ulnar nerve contusion? My hand has no feeling at all." "That is a paralytic illusion caused by prolonged pressure." Greg snapped the medical chart shut and tossed it back onto the headboard. His piercing gaze was as sharp as a knife. "The rescue team arrived five minutes later. You refused to cooperate and chose to stay there for sympathy until I returned to get you out. Ronda, how long are you going to keep this up?" "I chose to stay there?" Ronda trembled with anger, and tears welled up but stubbornly refused to fall. "Greg, where were you during the second collapse? You were carrying Rose out! Do you know how painful it was when that slab fell on me? Do you know my hand..." "Enough!" Greg interrupted her harshly, his face full of disgust. "Rose just returned to the country. She is unfamiliar with the environment and suffered severe psychological trauma. It was practical to save her first. You're my wife and the head of neurosurgery. Shouldn't you be taking the high road here? Do you have to scramble for attention alongside a patient? Where's your professional ethics?" "My professional ethics?" Ronda let out a bitter laugh. Her left hand clutched the sheet tightly. "Because I'm your wife, I deserve to be abandoned? Greg, can you afford it if my hand is truly useless?" Greg's brows furrowed. His patience with her obstinancy was wearing thin. "It won't be. I've had the orthopedic chief take a look. Your hand will recover after six months of recuperation. But you are so narrow-minded." He stepped closer and looked down at her. He said with a chilling tone, "Rose had an asthma attack from the dust inhalation and is still under observation in the ICU. Since you're awake, perhaps you'd better go and apologize to her."