Chapter 283: Count Yourself Lucky, Born with a Right-Sided Heart

Chapter 283: Chapter 283: Count Yourself Lucky, Born with a Right-Sided Heart

"It’s been handed over to the police and lawyers. We’ll handle it by the book." Chadwick Whitman’s tone was flat, without a hint of fluctuation, as if the matter hadn’t disturbed him in the slightest.

Seeing his calm expression, Vesper Grayson felt the worry in her heart ease slightly.

"Everyone has their own destiny. The Churchill Family couldn’t handle the opportunity the Whitman Family gave them; they brought it all on themselves. You’ve done more than enough. If she were still here, she would never want to see the Churchill Family use your past relationship to morally blackmail you."

"Little sister, are you trying to comfort me?"

"I suppose so. Mom told me about your past with her."

Chadwick Whitman lifted the celadon teacup and took a small sip.

"I accepted the fact that she was gone a long time ago. I just need a little more time to move on."

"I understand. I’m sure you’ll be able to, brother." Vesper Grayson’s eyes were gentle as her lips curved into a faint, soft smile.

Chadwick Whitman set down his teacup and replied in a low voice, "I will."

But he didn’t know when he would truly be able to let go. Only time would tell.

Vesper Grayson bit her lip, her tone turning cautious.

"Brother, can I see what she looked like?"

Chadwick Whitman took a perfectly laminated photo from his inner pocket. The corners were completely unworn, clear evidence that it had been carefully treasured for a long time.

The woman in the photo wore a bright red dress. She had waist-length French curls and delicate features. When she smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkled with charm, while her cheeks revealed a pure, sweet innocence. She was as dazzling as the high-noon sun.

"She’s beautiful."

’A girl liked by both my parents and my brother must have been pure and clear-hearted.’

A gentle smile spread in Chadwick Whitman’s eyes.

"The first time I saw her, she was wearing a faded, washed-out shirt, squatting by a trash can to feed a stray cat. She was barely making ends meet herself, but she saved up money to buy cat food and care for those small, weak creatures."

To this day, he clearly remembered the faint dimples that appeared when she smiled, instantly capturing his full attention. In that single glance, he came to believe in destiny.

...

The Azure Gallery auction house was steeped in classical luxury. The high, spacious hall was paneled with zitan wood, and a gigantic crystal chandelier on the domed ceiling cast a soft glow. A faint, subtle scent of agarwood lingered in the air.

At the front, a solid wood gavel and a gilded microphone rested on the auction stage. Below, high-backed leather chairs were arranged in neat rows. The guests all conversed in low voices, and the entire venue was quiet and solemn.

Ancient jade and calligraphy paintings were displayed in glass cases on both sides. Attendants moved about with light footsteps. Every detail exuded the uniquely reserved and noble atmosphere of the highest social circle.

She walked into the venue on Jared Hawthorne’s arm, holding a black and gold card. A thin veil covered her face, revealing only a pair of clear, bright, almond-shaped eyes. She was deliberately keeping a low profile.

The Whitman Family had just publicly acknowledged her return a few days ago. Her striking looks made her easily recognizable.

Today’s final auction item was a piece of wild Agarwood, and there was no telling how many people had come specifically for it.

The two found their seats. The fragmented chatter of the guests beside them drifted into their ears.

Everyone was discussing the recent falling-out between the Churchill and Whitman families.

The Churchill Family was completely bankrupt. Their assets were being liquidated at low prices to cover their debts, and the court hearing for their sentencing was imminent.

The conversation then shifted to her. People joked that whoever married the long-lost daughter of the Whitman Family would get their hands on one-third of the family’s fortune.

Vesper Grayson heard this and treated it as a joke, simply dismissing it with a faint smile.

Jared Hawthorne reached out and gently clasped her hand. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Mrs. Hawthorne, it seems quite a few people are thinking about stealing you away from me."

"They don’t stand a chance. My heart already belongs to someone."

"And who would that be?"

"Why must you ask when you already know, President Hawthorne?"

The corners of Jared Hawthorne’s lips curved upward, his tone tinged with a stubborn insistence.

"I want to hear you say it."

"You’re so childish. Aren’t you afraid our son will laugh at you for this later?" Vesper Grayson scoffed, unwilling to play along with his nonsense.

The lights in the hall suddenly dimmed, and the auction officially began.

Although the first few items were valuable, they weren’t her goal for this trip, so she didn’t pay them much mind.

An hour passed in a flash. She was inevitably growing weary from the wait. ’That wild Agarwood must be the final item of the night,’ she thought.

"I’m going to step out and take a call," Jared Hawthorne whispered close to her ear.

Vesper Grayson nodded. "Go ahead."

"Don’t wander off. I’ll be right back."

"I know." ’It’s not like I’m a clueless child.’

There was still some time before the final item was presented, so Vesper Grayson decided to go to the restroom first.

Since becoming pregnant, she not only had morning sickness but also had to use the restroom frequently.

’Being a mom is no easy job, that’s for sure!’

She had just stood up when the sound of a door being urgently pushed open came from outside, followed by the heavy, pungent smell of blood washing over her.

She quickly straightened her skirt as several sharp commands erupted from just outside her stall.

"Search! Don’t let him get away!"

"He’s injured! He can’t have gone far."

Vesper Grayson’s heart clenched. She pushed open the stall door and looked up to see the figure of a man collapsed on the floor.

Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, a tall and straight build. His handsome features were as white as paper. One hand was pressed tightly against his left chest, and blood was gushing relentlessly from between his fingers.

The man struggled to turn his head, his pair of sharp, cold, hawk-like black eyes locking onto her.

The footsteps of the pursuers outside drew closer. Vesper Grayson quickly put her phone to her ear, pretending to be on a call, and walked out with a natural expression.

"I’m in the restroom. I’ll be right there."

The two men guarding the door heard her voice and paused. Their gazes fixed on her, studying her for a moment. They exchanged a look, then turned and ran down the other corridor.

After confirming the footsteps had faded into the distance, Vesper Grayson, her back now covered in a thin layer of cold sweat, finally returned to the restroom.

The man was slumped against the wall, his breathing weak, all the color drained from his face.

"Sir, are you okay?"

The man slowly lifted his heavy eyelids, his dark eyes filled with scrutiny.

"Why did you help me?"

Vesper Grayson’s expression was calm. "I just didn’t want to get caught up in your mess. You’ve lost a lot of blood. Do you need me to call an ambulance for you?"

Logic told her she should return to the auction hall immediately, but her healer’s instinct wouldn’t let her ignore someone so gravely injured.

"No need. Could I borrow your phone?" the man’s voice was weak and hoarse.

Vesper Grayson nodded and handed him the phone.

The man quickly dialed a number, gave a few brief instructions, and returned the phone.

Vesper Grayson took back her phone, her gaze falling on his chest, which was still bleeding profusely.

"At this rate of blood loss, you’ll go into shock in less than ten minutes. If you trust me, I can stop the bleeding and treat your wound."

"Are you a doctor?"

"I know some medicine."

"Then I’ll have to trouble you."

Vesper Grayson took out her phone and made a call to an internal line. A moment later, a staff member arrived at the restroom door with a first-aid kit.

"Miss Whitman, I’ve brought what you asked for."

Vesper Grayson walked to the door and handed him a tip.

"Thank you for your trouble."

She placed an "Under Maintenance" sign on the door outside and turned back.

"I need to examine your wound first."

The man released the hand covering his chest, and blood immediately began to well up.

The moment she saw the wound clearly, Vesper Grayson’s expression turned grim.

’It’s a gunshot wound!’

The location was right next to the heart—extremely dangerous.

Her fingertips quickly pressed around the wound to probe the area. Then she swiftly ran her hand over the right side of his chest, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.

’This man’s heart is on the right side of his chest. He has situs inversus, a one-in-a-million condition.’

’His attacker was clearly aiming to kill him, but fate plays strange tricks. The fatal spot missed his heart. If he had a normal heart on the left side, he would already be beyond saving.’

"You’re lucky. You were born with dextrocardia, which is why that shot didn’t kill you. The bullet has to come out now. If we wait for your people to arrive, you’ll go into shock from blood loss."

The man’s deep gaze rested heavily on her, a hint of surprise in his eyes.

’Any other woman who encountered a situation like this would have panicked and fled long ago, yet she was perfectly calm and even about to remove a bullet.’

Vesper Grayson ignored his scrutinizing gaze. She opened the medical kit, put on a pair of surgical gloves, and deftly cut away the blood-soaked fabric to reveal the bullet embedded deep in the flesh. She first disinfected the area around the wound with strong alcohol, gave him a shot of local anesthetic, and then took a thick gauze pad to apply temporary pressure to the wound.

"Hold this down yourself."

The man gritted his teeth and pressed down hard on the wound.

Vesper Grayson methodically disinfected the entire set of surgical instruments. As the anesthetic began to take effect, she picked up a pair of curved hemostats and slowly probed the wound. Warm, sticky blood flowed continuously along the instrument, but her eyes never wavered. She precisely clamped onto the cold bullet head, and with a slight twist of her wrist, steadily pulled out the bullet that was lodged next to his rib.

The bullet head fell to the floor with a faint, crisp CLINK. The bleeding from the wound instantly intensified. She immediately switched to a new, dry gauze pad, pressed it down hard on the wound, quickly sprinkled on a potent styptic powder, and took a wide bandage to wrap it tightly around his chest layer by layer. The entire sequence of actions was as smooth as flowing water, without a hint of panic from start to finish.

She took an oral hemostatic pill from the medical kit and held it to his lips.

"Open your mouth."

The man did as he was told, opening his mouth and swallowing the pill.

Vesper Grayson’s eyes curved into a smile as she casually teased him, "You were so guarded just a moment ago, but now you’re being quite obedient. Aren’t you afraid I just fed you poison?"