?Chapter 1890:


    Megan hurried over, her smile bright but her eyes filled with doubt and a touch of resentment when she looked at Hadley.


    “I should get going now,” said Hadley, a crease forming between her brows as she turned to make her exit.


    “Hadley…”


    Eric reached out on reflex, meaning to stop her.


    Megan instantly caught hold of his hand.


    With a littleugh, she shed a dazzling smile. “You’re extra sweet today. I love it.”


    “Megan!”


    Annoyance crept into Eric’s voice as he snapped, “Why are you always showing up? Can you please stop tailing me?” He felt like there was no escaping her.


    “What, are you mad?”


    Megan’s cheerful look faded into a pout. “I’m only worried about you. The moment I heard you came to the hospital, I hurried over…”


    “Enough! You’re driving me crazy!”


    Eric pulled free from her grasp and strode toward the neurosurgery floor. His results were probably out by now, and he wanted to hear what the doctor had to say.


    “Wait up!” Megan clung to him like a shadow, always right behind.


    Inside the doctor’s office, the doctor wore a troubled expression. Eric spoke first, unwilling to waste time. “Just be honest. There’s nothing to sugarcoat in my case, is there?”


    “That’s right.” The doctor gave a heavy nod. “Mr. Scott, you need to have surgery as soon as possible…”


    Eric had grown weary of hearing that line.


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    He paused, then asked, “What’s the likelihood it works?”


    “Well…” The doctor hesitated. “The hospital’s best surgical team will handle your case, and the department head will be present throughout…”


    Eric clicked his tongue and snapped, “Don’t give me a speech! Tell me what I need to know!”


    “Fifty percent.”


    Fifty percent? Not the worst possible oue, but not nearly enough to inspire confidence.


    “So, what you mean is…” Eric’s gaze grew sharp. “Once I’m on that table, it’s a coin flip whether I ever open my eyes again.”


    He pictured himself gone, buried deep in the ground, lost to the world.


    “That’s right.” The doctor’s answer carried real weight. “But if you skip surgery… Mr. Scott, the headaches areing more often. There’s a real concern—”


    A concern that hardly needed spelling out.


    Without surgery, death wasn’t just likely. It was inevitable.


    Surgery, at the very least, put hope back on the table.


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