?<strong>Chapter 455:</strong>


    The doctor studied him carefully before finally breaking the silence. “Ms. Nash’s condition has worsened significantly. If her emotional state continues to destabilize, her system may initiate a defensive rejection. We might then have to consider another transnt.”


    In previous visits, it had been clear to the doctor that Lise wasn’t genuinely ill. As a private institution ustomed to indulging the theatrics of young lovers, they had overlooked such trivial matters. But now, the gravity of the situation demanded a preemptive warning to Kristopher—to prevent any potential outburstster.


    With measured precision, Kristopher removed the cigarette from his lips, tapping it against the ashtray’s rim before extinguishing it. Turning his steely gaze to the doctor, he asked, “And what bes of the original heart should a second transnt be necessary?”


    “Hmm?” The question caught the doctor off guard. He had expected concern for Lise, not the organ itself. After a moment’s hesitation, he replied, “A second procedure would result in the original heart no longer existing.”


    Kristopher’s brow furrowed further. “Is it possible then to re-transnt the original heart into another?”


    Pen hovering midair, the doctor paused. “Highly unlikely. Any rejection wouldpromise its functionality.”


    Kristopher stood, his demeanor hardening. “Prioritize the heart’s preservation.”


    “I want minimal rejection risk.” The doctor’s voice held a note of caution. “Some of the stronger medications might harm her more than help.” Kristopher’s face remained impassable. “At all costs, preserve the heart.”


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    “Very well, Mr. Norris.” It was painfully clear now—Kristopher’s concerny more with the heart inside Lise than with Lise herself.


    Later that night, after several drinks, Carrie and Camille were slightly inebriated. One sprawled across the coffee table, the other slouched against the couch, mumbling incoherently.


    In the middle of the night, Kristopher arrived home. Upon entering the room and observing the chaos, his expression soured. He paused in the doorway and decisively called out to Albin, his tone cold as hemanded, “Come over to Bayview Vi immediately and pick up your woman.”


    Startled awake by the firmness in Kristopher’s voice, Albin bolted upright in bed. Still disoriented, he began dressing, not fullyprehending who Kristopher referred to as “your woman.”


    Circling the disarray, Kristopher stopped by Carrie, who, semi-conscious, was mumbling under her breath. His name asionally surfaced amid less-than-ttering remarks.


    Attempting to lift her, he touched her shoulder, causing her eyes to flutter open. Noticing the polished leather shoes before her on thevish carpet, Carrie’s expression turned into a scowl.


    He had expected her to either ignore him or confront him angrily. Instead, she weakly shoved at his leg, d in fine trousers, saying, “Move away! Those shoes will ruin the expensive carpet.”


    With a quietugh, Kristopher responded, “Worried about the carpet now? You’ve treated this luxury piece worse than garbage.”


    ncing around, Carrie took in the sight of empty liquor bottles, beer stains marring the once-spotless carpet, and chicken bones tangled in its fibers. A pang of remorse struck her, and she straightened up, attempting to obscure the disaster from his view.


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