He Chose Her Over Me, So I Let Him Die - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
You are reading He Chose Her Over Me, So I Let Him Die, Chapter 3: Chapter 3. Read more chapters of He Chose Her Over Me, So I Let Him Die.
I was just turning to leave when Scarlett suddenly stepped in front of me, blocking my path.
"What exactly did you mean by that, Victoria?" she demanded, her brow furrowed.
"Exactly what I said. If you're confused, maybe grab a dictionary," I replied coolly.
Scarlett let out a mocking laugh. "Then how about a wager? Let's see which of us can heal Richard's legs."
Her eyes glittered with challenge. "The loser kneels, admits defeat in front of everyone, and gets banished from the city—permanently."
I paused mid-step before slowly turning to face her. "I'll take that bet—but not with Richard. I'll treat Maximus Caldwell instead."
Her smirk faltered.
"Ten days. We'll see if you can get Richard walking or if I can wake Max up." I tilted my head. "Still game, Miss McKenzie?"
The room erupted in shocked whispers.
"Max? He's been vegetative for years!"
"That's impossible—way harder than fixing paralyzed legs!"
"Let's be real, if the Caldwells hadn't spent a fortune on life support..."
"If Baldridge pulls this off, it'll rewrite medical history!"
Amid the murmurs, Scarlett's eyes lit up with predatory glee. "Fine. With all these witnesses, don't come crying when you lose, Victoria."
I gave a calm nod. "I won't."
Richard scoffed from his wheelchair. "Max is basically a corpse. You couldn't fix my legs, and now you're playing miracle worker?" He smirked. "Admit defeat now, and I might go easy on you."
My gaze dropped to his legs. "Careful, Richard. Medicine can harm as easily as it heals." I leaned in slightly. "With Scarlett's brilliant skills? You might end up worse off."
As I walked away, the whispers followed me.
In my past life, Scarlett had been a business major with zero medical training—her parents were factory workers. This "healing prodigy" act? Pathetic.
By nightfall, news of our bet had spread like wildfire. Someone even started a public betting pool. Richard threw down ten million on Scarlett—a not-so-subtle bribe disguised as "support."
The next morning, Laura Caldwell arrived to escort me personally. At the hospital, I administered the blood-infused medicine I'd prepared, carefully tipping it between Max's lips.
Seven days. That's all he'll need.
"Miss Baldridge," Laura whispered, voice trembling. "No matter what happens, our family owes you everything. Name anything—if it's within our power, it's yours."
She started to kneel, but I caught her arm. "This isn't about rewards, Laura. I just intend to win." I met her tear-filled eyes. "Your son will come back to you."
She squeezed my hand. "The Caldwells bet ten million on you. When you win, every cent—plus interest—is yours." Before I could protest, she added firmly, "You've earned it."
Just then, Scarlett's saccharine voice cut through the room. She pushed Richard's wheelchair toward us, lips curled in a sneer.
"So this is why you're suddenly playing hero," she jeered. "Caldwell money must smell sweeter than hospital disinfectant."
She grabbed Laura's arm with faux concern. "Don't be fooled! This fraud couldn't fix Richard—what makes you think she'll wake Max? You'll lose your son and your fortune."
Laura yanked her arm free with icy disdain. "My faith isn't yours to question, Scarlett. This is none of your business."
Scarlett's sugary mask cracked, revealing sheer outrage beneath.
"What exactly did you mean by that, Victoria?" she demanded, her brow furrowed.
"Exactly what I said. If you're confused, maybe grab a dictionary," I replied coolly.
Scarlett let out a mocking laugh. "Then how about a wager? Let's see which of us can heal Richard's legs."
Her eyes glittered with challenge. "The loser kneels, admits defeat in front of everyone, and gets banished from the city—permanently."
I paused mid-step before slowly turning to face her. "I'll take that bet—but not with Richard. I'll treat Maximus Caldwell instead."
Her smirk faltered.
"Ten days. We'll see if you can get Richard walking or if I can wake Max up." I tilted my head. "Still game, Miss McKenzie?"
The room erupted in shocked whispers.
"Max? He's been vegetative for years!"
"That's impossible—way harder than fixing paralyzed legs!"
"Let's be real, if the Caldwells hadn't spent a fortune on life support..."
"If Baldridge pulls this off, it'll rewrite medical history!"
Amid the murmurs, Scarlett's eyes lit up with predatory glee. "Fine. With all these witnesses, don't come crying when you lose, Victoria."
I gave a calm nod. "I won't."
Richard scoffed from his wheelchair. "Max is basically a corpse. You couldn't fix my legs, and now you're playing miracle worker?" He smirked. "Admit defeat now, and I might go easy on you."
My gaze dropped to his legs. "Careful, Richard. Medicine can harm as easily as it heals." I leaned in slightly. "With Scarlett's brilliant skills? You might end up worse off."
As I walked away, the whispers followed me.
In my past life, Scarlett had been a business major with zero medical training—her parents were factory workers. This "healing prodigy" act? Pathetic.
By nightfall, news of our bet had spread like wildfire. Someone even started a public betting pool. Richard threw down ten million on Scarlett—a not-so-subtle bribe disguised as "support."
The next morning, Laura Caldwell arrived to escort me personally. At the hospital, I administered the blood-infused medicine I'd prepared, carefully tipping it between Max's lips.
Seven days. That's all he'll need.
"Miss Baldridge," Laura whispered, voice trembling. "No matter what happens, our family owes you everything. Name anything—if it's within our power, it's yours."
She started to kneel, but I caught her arm. "This isn't about rewards, Laura. I just intend to win." I met her tear-filled eyes. "Your son will come back to you."
She squeezed my hand. "The Caldwells bet ten million on you. When you win, every cent—plus interest—is yours." Before I could protest, she added firmly, "You've earned it."
Just then, Scarlett's saccharine voice cut through the room. She pushed Richard's wheelchair toward us, lips curled in a sneer.
"So this is why you're suddenly playing hero," she jeered. "Caldwell money must smell sweeter than hospital disinfectant."
She grabbed Laura's arm with faux concern. "Don't be fooled! This fraud couldn't fix Richard—what makes you think she'll wake Max? You'll lose your son and your fortune."
Laura yanked her arm free with icy disdain. "My faith isn't yours to question, Scarlett. This is none of your business."
Scarlett's sugary mask cracked, revealing sheer outrage beneath.
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