Chapter 4 — Protecting Mom, Once Again

She used to be so obedient. The moment we get her inside the operating theater, no one will be able to stop us.

Man Ngung stared at the screen for a long time, tapping out a reply that was agonizingly brief:

Then hurry up. I truly cannot wait another moment.

I stared at those glowing words, the tips of my fingers freezing until they went completely numb. Naturally, she wanted to live. It was not that she was unaware of the terrible cost. She simply believed that such a price ought not to be paid by her.

On the morning of the third day, the hospital convened a closed-door coordination meeting. Officially, it was framed as a discussion regarding treatment protocols. In reality, it was an orchestrated attempt to force our capitulation. The conference room was packed to capacity. The hospital’s legal department, a representative from the insurance company, collateral relatives of the Lu family, Phuc Nien’s personal attorney, and two individuals who introduced themselves as independent medical consultants were all present. My mother sat beside me. She wore minimal makeup, her lips entirely drained of color, yet her spine was held rigidly straight. Huai Khiem had been granted permission to attend. The moment he stepped through the threshold, the rims of his eyes were already red.

Chi Chi.

My mother did not look at him. He crossed the floor toward her and suddenly dropped to his knees. The harsh screech of chair legs grating against the linoleum echoed through the tense silence.

I was wrong.

His voice was choked with tears.

I should not have kept secrets from you, nor should I have signed on your behalf.

But I truly never meant to harm you. I only... I only thought that if an actual emergency arose, you would have agreed to save a life.

My mother’s hands trembled violently. I reached out, my fingers wrapping tightly around hers to steady her. Huai Khiem pivoted to face me.

Van Ninh, I am begging you. Do not pursue this investigation any further.

Your mother still requires ongoing medical care, and the Lu family cannot endure this relentless torment.

We are all members of the same family. Can we not simply close the doors and resolve this among ourselves?

He slid a thick folder across the mahogany table.

The hospital has agreed to cover all expenses in full, and they will arrange the highest tier of rehabilitation therapy available for your mother.

All the two of you need to do is sign a single declaration.

I picked up the document. Printed across the page were the following words:

The patient and her family acknowledge that the preceding diagnostic and treatment procedures conducted by the Third Hospital involved no deliberate acts of harm.

All previously executed authorizations pertaining to surgery, emergency intervention, and life support accurately reflect true and voluntary intentions.

The family voluntarily withdraws all formal complaints and reports to the authorities, and agrees to pursue no further liability against Lu Huai Khiem, Phuc Nien, or the hospital administration.

The final clause was even more blindingly offensive.

Should the patient subsequently lapse into an irreversible critical condition, the family consents to an organ donation assessment in accordance with previously established intentions.

I raised my eyes to look at Huai Khiem.

You kneel and offer a blade with both hands; do your arms never grow tired?

His features stiffened. I took the document and tore it. Page by page. I tore it with deliberate slowness. The shredded fragments fluttered down like snow onto the conference table.

My mother is still alive.

Yet you have already arranged her path after death.

This was neither a misunderstanding nor a procedural error.

This was a conspiracy to commit murder.

Not a single soul in the room uttered a word. The face of the hospital’s legal representative turned a sickly shade of green. Tri Hanh stood up, placing a formal authorization document squarely in the center of the table.

Mrs. Chi has officially revoked her husband’s medical proxy.

From this moment onward, any decisions concerning life support, major surgical procedures, or organ donation must be confirmed exclusively by her own volition while in a fully conscious state.

Finally, my mother turned her gaze toward Huai Khiem. Her voice was remarkably soft, yet every single syllable rang out with crystal clarity.

Lu Huai Khiem, I do not consent to surgery.

I do not consent to organ donation.

I do not consent to let you make a single decision on my behalf ever again.

Starting today, I authorize my younger brother to act as my legal and medical representative.

Huai Khiem remained kneeling on the floor, looking as though he had just been struck across the face. Any lingering pretense of remorse vanished entirely from his eyes, leaving behind only a venomous malice.

Chi, would you truly destroy me over something so trivial?

My mother let out a bitter laugh.

Something so trivial?

You lured me into a hospital with the deliberate intent of harvesting my heart to save your former lover.

She stood up.

The fact that I did not die is your greatest mistake.

In that fleeting moment, I suddenly realized that I was not the only one who had been reborn into this life. She had awakened as well.

Following the coordination meeting, formal restrictions were placed on Huai Khiem while law enforcement prepared to execute further legal measures. Phuc Nien was likewise suspended from practicing medicine. Yet I knew deep down that this was far from over. In my past life, on the third day following my mother’s supposed death, I had received a text message. It instructed me to report to the rehabilitation center of the Third Hospital to complete some supplementary paperwork. At the time, I foolishly believed it was merely standard insurance protocol. Only later did I discover that it had been their final opportunity to forge signatures, destroy incriminating records, and complete the unbroken chain of custody for the organ harvesting operation. In this life, however, that very same message arrived far earlier.