Chapter 2904

Hearing that Bruce Wayne-Stan wanted ice, Camila, who reacted a bit faster, hurriedly said to the girl beside her: "Talia, there's a bottle of champagne ready in the suite's bar, just stuck in the ice bucket—go get the bucket quickly!"

The girl snapped back to attention, not daring to delay in the slightest, and quickly ran out of the bedroom.

After a clinking and clanking sound came, the girl came running over holding an iron bucket full of ice.

Camila quickly took the iron bucket from her hands, crouched down, and handed it to Bruce Wayne-Stan at his crotch. Bruce Wayne-Stan had originally wanted to just shove it in, but the situation really didn't allow it, so he could only dump all the ice straight between his legs.

He had originally thought these ice cubes would definitely calm him down, but he never expected the ice to have absolutely no effect on him—severe pain and extreme swelling weren't relieved in the slightest by the ice.

Bruce Wayne-Stan's expression grew more and more painful and twisted; unprecedented agony made him emotionally collapse, sitting on the ground wailing loudly.

At this moment, where was the shadow of that mighty warden? The whole person was exactly like a little girl who dirtied her skirt, sitting in a muddy puddle crying.

Camila instinctively asked him: "Warden Mr., do you still have no relief at all?"

Bruce Wayne-Stan cried and shook his head repeatedly, desperately saying: "Quickly help me think of a solution—I really can't hold on anymore……"

Camila was also very flustered, anxiously saying: "But I really can't think of any good solution……"

Saying this, Camila instinctively asked: "Should I call 911 for help?"

"No!" Bruce Wayne-Stan instinctively blurted out: "Absolutely cannot call 911—if we call 911, I'm done, you're done too!"

Bruce Wayne-Stan was very clear: after all, he's the warden of the federal prison, and also a Rothschild family member. If tonight he caused such a huge scandal here, and the outside world and the Rothschild family found out, then his future would be completely ruined.

The public absolutely would not allow a man who tried to pull off a double fly but nearly blew himself up to continue serving as the federal prison warden.

And the Rothschild family would certainly never continue to trust and reuse him—they would inevitably discard him.

After thinking it over, he could only endure the pain and say: "Go……go to my pocket……get my phone, I need to call……find someone to help……"

"Okay……" Camila, hearing him say he wanted to find help, breathed a little easier and hurriedly went to get his phone back.

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne-Stan thought of someone to ask for help—not Ye Chen, whom he'd just met today, but a friend who is an attending physician at a nearby hospital.

As soon as the call connected, he urgently asked: "Mark, where are you?!"

A middle-aged man's voice came from the phone: "I'm on duty at the hospital—what's wrong?"

Bruce Wayne-Stan hurriedly said: "I'm now in an extremely serious condition—only you might be able to save my life!"

Mark asked in surprise: "Bruce, what's wrong with you? Did you get injured?"

Bruce Wayne-Stan choked up and said: "Much worse than an injury—now only you can save my life……"

Mark realized the seriousness of the problem and hurriedly said: "Where are you? I'm coming to find you right now!"

Bruce Wayne-Stan knew that although Mark is an attending physician, in his current condition, Mark alone and unable to carry much professional equipment would probably be helpless even if he came, so the best and safest option now was for him to go to the hospital to find Mark.

So he instructed: "Mark, listen carefully—I need you to go prepare a completely private treatment room right now. Absolutely no other doctor besides you must touch you. Prepare now—I'm also heading over to find you right now!"

Mark hurriedly asked: "Then first tell me roughly the situation—I this side can also make targeted preparations, to avoid wasting time!"

Bruce Wayne-Stan's expression struggled for a moment, then he gathered courage and said: "It's my little brother……it……it's at least two or three times bigger than usual……I feel it's about to give out……"

"HolyShit!" Mark instinctively asked: "Did you randomly eat some medicine?"

"I didn't……" Bruce Wayne-Stan blurted: "I ate nothing—it just suddenly seemed enchanted, and now I feel it's like a balloon blown to the extreme—it might burst at any moment!"

"Shit!" Mark exploded with a curse, hurriedly saying: "Come to the hospital quickly—I'll prepare the examination room. If it's really as you said, two or three times bigger, it might be necrotic! You must hurry—faster is better!"

Bruce Wayne-Stan was also frightened into trembling all over, blurting: "I……I'm going now!"

After saying that, he threw the phone to one side, looked at Camila and the other girl, and blurted: "Quick, help me put on clothes, drive me to Manhattan Hospital!"

Camila instinctively said: "Warden, you……you probably can't put on pants now……"

Bruce Wayne-Stan lowered his head to look, his heart filled with despair.

Just looking at this posture, trying to put on pants is impossible—unless you directly make a pair of suspender pants.

Camila suddenly had an idea and hurriedly said: "Warden, how about I get you a robe?"

"Okay!" Bruce Wayne-Stan agreed without thinking, blurting: "Hurry, hurry and get it for me!"

A few minutes later, two beauty queens wearing sunglasses and masks, one on the left and one on the right, struggled to support Bruce Wayne-Stan, hastily wrapped in a robe, as the three of them hurried out of the room.

At this moment, Bruce Wayne-Stan's agony had not eased in the slightest, and he still had to walk—so every time he lifted his leg, he felt unprecedented torment, as if countless needles were desperately stabbing there.

But he also knew clearly in his heart that even if it hurt more, he had to endure it—absolutely cannot be pretentious, otherwise he might very well faint from continuous pain here, and if he lost consciousness, these two women, to avoid responsibility and not anger Gustavo, would definitely first call 911 for emergency personnel—then even if he barely saved his dog's life, he'd have no face to stay in America afterward.

At this moment, Bruce Wayne-Stan burst forth with unprecedented willpower, enduring the life-threatening pain, and together with the two beauty queens came to the underground parking garage.

Camila drove Bruce Wayne-Stan's car, and under his direction, drove toward Manhattan Hospital.

More than ten minutes later, the car finally stopped at the entrance of Manhattan Hospital, and Bruce Wayne-Stan's good friend Mark had already prepared, pushing a wheelchair and waiting at the door.

Seeing Bruce Wayne-Stan's car approach, he hurriedly pushed the wheelchair over and opened the car door.

At this moment, Bruce Wayne-Stan was curled up in the passenger seat, his whole body already violently twitching and dry-heaving from pain. Mark hadn't expected the situation to be this serious, and hurriedly lifted him out of the passenger seat.

Through the robe, he saw Bruce Wayne-Stan's contour there, and was instantly stunned, gaping. He instinctively asked: "Bruce, are you sure this isn't a prank?"

Bruce Wayne-Stan emotionally collapsed and shouted: "Mark, today isn't April Fools' Day, and I'm not in the mood to use my little brother to prank you—for God's sake, can't you hurry and take me inside the hospital to find a treatment room to treat me?"

Mark came to his senses and hurriedly said: "Bruce, I didn't mean that—I just thought……I just thought this is too terrifying……"

Saying that, he hurriedly pushed the wheelchair and sprinted toward the hospital interior.

Three minutes later, when Mark truly saw Bruce Wayne-Stan's condition, his whole body seemed to have seen a ghost, murmuring: "This……this basically can't be saved……"

Bruce Wayne-Stan blurted: "You fucking saved it? You just say it can't be saved—then you save it!"

Mark helplessly shook his head, hurriedly took out instruments to measure blood pressure, saw the eerily high value, and couldn't help but say: "Your blood pressure is this high—did you secretly implant a pump somewhere in your body, pumping all your blood there?"

Bruce Wayne-Stan angrily said: "I didn't come here to listen to your stand-up comedy, Mark! Do something!"

Mark wiped his cold sweat, took out some prepared injections, and said: "I'll first inject you with some pain-relief medicine to see if it works, then wait a bit and do an imaging scan to check if any blood clots have formed anywhere."

Saying that, he opened the injection vial's plunger, tentatively asked Bruce Wayne-Stan: "Can you endure the needle?"

Bruce Wayne-Stan shoved his feet hard against the ground, urgently saying: "Every second feels like getting a needle—just hurry up and do it!"

Mark nodded, hurriedly injected him with several vials of medicine, but unexpectedly, Bruce Wayne-Stan was in such pain that his veins bulged, as if an alien would burst from his stomach the next second.

Mark hurriedly asked him: "Bruce, how do you feel?"

Bruce Wayne-Stan gritted his teeth and said: "Now it hurts even more!"

Mark wiped his sweat and said, "No matter how painful it is, you have to endure it—I need to finish the examination first."

Bruce Wayne-Stanley nodded desperately, suppressing the urge to fling open the window and jump down, and let Mark perform several examinations on him.

After several examinations, Mark said doubtfully, "No blood clot, nothing unusual—this is too strange."

Saying that, he looked at Bruce Wayne-Stanley and said solemnly, "At present, it's impossible to determine the cause in a short while, but your condition is indeed very special—such intense congestion cannot be controlled, and your tissue already shows signs of hypoxia and necrosis. If you don't have it removed soon, it could trigger systemic sepsis, endangering your life..."

Bruce Wayne-Stanley flew into a rage and shouted, "Mark, I asked you to find a way to treat it, to make it return to normal—not to jump straight to cutting it off! Haven't you encountered such a situation in your hospital?"

Mark said seriously, "Bruce, you must trust my medical experience. If it were just ordinary prolonged congestion, we have many ways to intervene, but your situation is different—this color indicates the tissue is already necrotic. Necrotic tissue cannot be saved; otherwise, there wouldn't be so many amputee patients."

Saying that, Mark added, "Professional doctors can actually tell at a glance whether the tissue is healthy or not, and whether amputation is necessary for treatment. Many patients, unwilling to accept the reality of needing amputation, don't believe our initial recommendation. Many even drag their残 limbs from hospital to hospital, hoping for a miracle. But in such cases, nearly ninety percent of patients, when they persist to the end, can only accept amputation."

Bruce Wayne-Stanley hurriedly asked, "Then what about the remaining 10%? Did they encounter a medical miracle?"

"Medical miracle?" Mark shook his head. "The remaining 10% simply refuse amputation no matter what, and in the end, they really die."

Bruce Wayne-Stanley, in utter despair, cried out, "I don't want... I can't accept it... Even if you cut off my other leg, go ahead and cut it off for me!"

Mark said helplessly, "Given the current situation, I truly have no better option—should I contact relevant experts?"

Saying that, Mark reminded him, "But I need to tell you upfront: at this hour, most experts have already gone off duty. Even if I find someone willing to help treat you, their arrival won't be quick. So, would you mind if I record a video? They could consult via video."

Bruce Wayne-Stanley covered his face and blurted, "Hurry up and film! The more detailed, the better!"

Mark quickly pulled out his phone, recorded a video, and sent it to the experts he knew in the relevant field.

Soon, he began receiving replies from these experts one after another.

Without exception, every expert replied with the same two-part content.

The first part was their astonishment at the video content—because none of them had ever seen such a condition in their entire lives.

The second part was that nearly all of them believed that aside from surgical removal, there should be no second option.

Mark let Bruce Wayne-Stanley personally view every expert's reply, which made Bruce even more despairing. He never imagined that merely coming out to meet a world beauty queen would lead to this—he hadn't even tasted her charm yet, and now he might become a eunuch.

Bruce Wayne-Stanley, broken to the core, would rather die than choose amputation. Mark, for a moment, had no solution and could only say: "Generally speaking, tissue necrosis doesn't require immediate contact—normally, you still have about 24 hours to consider. Once the tissue begins to rot, you must make a decision. But I can responsibly tell you: there really is no hope."

Saying that, he sighed sincerely: "I always thought a man must be hard, but today it seems being hard isn't a good thing..."

Bruce Wayne-Stanley suddenly recalled what Ye Chen had said to him today.

He had also said, "A man not being hard is terrifying, but being too hard is even more terrifying."

At that moment, Bruce Wayne-Stanley's eyes lit up, as if he had grasped a lifeline, and he murmured softly: "What that Mr. Ye said is all true—could he possibly have a way to treat it?!"