Tempting Him to Lose Control

Chapter 29: Chapter 29: Mad with Jealousy

"Folks, I’ve brought you all some supplies. Village Chief, would you mind distributing them to everyone?"

The village chief was pleasantly surprised. "This is..."

Claire Kendall’s lips curved into a small smile, and her tone was light. "My friend, Ian Rhodes. He’s also in the design industry."

The village chief and the master craftsmen were all beaming.

Ian Rhodes hurried over to Claire Kendall, his face full of worry.

"Claire, are you okay? I couldn’t reach you yesterday. I was up all night." His gaze was filled with concern. "Does the wound on your arm still hurt?"

"The roads are all blocked by mud and water. If it weren’t for the SUV, I wouldn’t have been able to get in at all." Ian’s smile was bright and sunny.

"I’m fine, don’t worry."

Miles Warren stood a short distance away from the two, his body tense.

His expression was calm and placid, but a storm raged in the depths of his eyes. The fingers of his hand, hanging at his side, curled into a tight fist.

His nails dug deep into his palm, leaving crescent-shaped marks that nearly broke the skin.

’She was his sun... How could she shine on someone else?’

"COUGH COUGH..." Ian Rhodes swayed, his face a little pale after the long journey.

Claire Kendall steadied him, her voice filled with concern. "What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?"

Miles Warren’s gaze fell on Claire’s hand holding Ian.

That same hand, so soft and delicate, had been wrapped around him just last night.

The other man was leaning against her, so close it was painful to watch.

The taste of iron rose in his throat, and he forced it back down.

Ian swayed again, his body nearly collapsing against Claire. His voice was weak. "I was in too much of a hurry to get here and didn’t eat anything on the way. My stomach feels a bit upset."

"Claire, you don’t need to worry."

"Low blood sugar and an upset stomach?" Miles Warren stepped forward, his voice low and gentle. "I’m a doctor. Let me take a look at you."

"Mr. Rhodes, sit over here." Miles’s tone was practically a command.

"Right, he’s a doctor. Let him give you a quick check-up." Claire helped Ian sit down.

"Dr. Warren, sorry to trouble you." Ian was forced to move away from Claire’s side and sat on a stone stool.

Miles methodically wiped his stethoscope with an alcohol pad, then pressed it to Ian’s chest, listening carefully.

"Your heart rate is a little fast, but there are no major issues."

He placed his hand on Ian’s forehead.

"Your temperature is normal. No fever."

"As for the low blood sugar," Miles said, pulling a piece of chocolate from his pocket, "eat this."

"If you feel unwell again, come find me. As for Claire Kendall—" Miles paused. "She can’t treat you. Her arm is injured, she’s not very strong, and she can’t support you."

He smiled. "You’re Claire’s friend, which naturally makes you my friend. Feel free to ask me for help if you need anything."

Ian had already sensed that something was off with Miles’s mood.

It was a subtle intuition between men; he immediately understood the doctor’s feelings for Claire.

He unhurriedly took the piece of chocolate.

"Dr. Warren, thank you. That was a very thorough diagnosis."

"I can come to you if I’m sick, but for fashion design, I’ll still need Claire’s help."

As he spoke, he flashed Claire a smile like that of an innocent college boy.

"Claire, I brought a sample garment made from Apex Wear’s newest material. You should take a look at the quality."

He ate the chocolate and looked at Miles Warren, his eyes filled with provocation.

"Okay," Claire agreed. "Are you sure you’re feeling all right?"

"I ate the chocolate Dr. Warren gave me. Much better now."

Claire glanced back at Miles Warren and gave a slight nod in thanks before following Ian to the SUV to look at the garment sample.

Miles watched the two of them sit side-by-side in the vehicle, an inscrutable gloom clouding his eyes.

"Someone, help!"

"The village chief is pinned under a machine! Hurry, we need help moving it!"

A crowd had gathered near the textile mill.

Claire’s heart tightened. Without a second thought, she leaped out of the SUV and dashed toward the warehouse.

"Claire..." Ian followed right behind her.

But Miles Warren was faster. He had already pushed through the panicked crowd and squeezed his way in.

The village chief lay beside an old-fashioned embroidery machine. Part of the machine head had crashed down on his right arm. Blood mixed with rainwater, a shocking sight.

The old man’s face was drained of all color, but his left hand was still clutching a piece of embroidered fabric he had torn from the machine.

His forehead was covered in a cold sweat as he groaned, "Save the machine..."

The villagers rushed forward all at once, nervously trying to lift it.

"Don’t move! Everyone back away, give him some air!" Miles Warren shouted sharply, crouching down to examine him.

Claire stopped the other villagers from crowding closer, creating space for him.

He stopped them. "Don’t lift it directly. The leverage point is wrong. Get a crowbar and lift it from the side."

"I have one in my car!" Ian ran out to get it.

Claire knelt in the muddy water, wanting to help but not knowing where to start.

Seeing the village chief’s old and pain-filled face, her heart clenched. She soothed him in a low voice, "Dr. Warren is here. He’s here, you’re going to be okay."

Following Miles Warren’s directions, Ian and a few other villagers carefully moved the machine part.

The flesh was nearly crushed to a pulp, with white bone exposed. The situation was critical.

Rosalind Linden took two steps forward, then retreated again, her expression complex.

Miles conducted a swift, professional examination. "The right forearm is severely damaged. The blood vessels and nerves are completely severed. It can’t be saved."

"We have to amputate immediately to control the infection and bleeding."

The village chief’s tightly shut eyes flew open. Red-rimmed, he roared, "No... You can’t! Without my hand, how can I embroider? What will happen to the Wexall mill? What about everyone here!"

"I’d rather die... I’d rather die than lose my hand..."

The villagers’ eyes all turned red.

"Village Chief, if we don’t amputate, you’ll lose your life!"

"That’s right! A hard life is better than a good death. You’ve lived this long..."

Claire’s voice was choked with emotion, but her words were resolute.

"Village Chief, I told you I would help The Wexall Textile Mill, and I won’t go back on my word. Trust me. You have to live, so we can protect it together."

The village chief’s eyes were red. "My girl... my girl, this embroidery is my life!"

Miles had already prepared the basic surgical tools. "Every minute we delay, the risk increases."

The village chief looked at Claire and finally, with great difficulty, nodded.

"Miles!" Rosalind’s tone was anxious and hesitant. "Are you sure about this? If something goes wrong, you could lose your medical license."

"The conditions here are poor. There’s a clinic ten kilometers away. We should take the village chief there."

Claire clenched her fists and bit her lip.

She knew Rosalind’s reasoning was sound. If anything went wrong, Miles would be the first person to be held responsible.

"It rained all night. The roads have collapsed. His condition is too unstable for that kind of journey."

Miles didn’t hesitate. He immediately stood up and instructed the villagers to clear out a dry room, light lamps, and sterilize it.

"Prepare for surgery. Who can assist?"

"I can!"

"I can too!"

A chorus of voices rose and fell. Not a single doctor there backed down for fear of losing their license.

The amputation was brutal, but it temporarily saved the village chief’s life.

Miles walked out, his white coat stained with blood, his brow etched with fatigue.

Claire’s legs went weak. Ian moved to support her, but Miles, who was beside them, was faster.

He helped Claire sit down on a bench outside the room, then made a phone call.

Twenty minutes later, a loud RUMBLING sound circled overhead.

A small helicopter landed steadily.

The villagers had never seen such a spectacle. They craned their necks to stare, murmuring amongst themselves.

The pilot walked straight up to Miles Warren, his tone respectful.

"Mr. Warren."

"The patient is inside. Take him to Aethel General Hospital and have Jonathan Keller take over."

"Understood."

The village chief was loaded onto the helicopter as the villagers pointed at the aircraft, exclaiming in amazement.

Dusk settled in. The chaotic scene gradually calmed down, and the villagers thanked Miles profusely before heading home.

Ian asked with concern, "Claire, how are you? I can drive you back. The SUV should be able to handle the mountain roads."

"I’m fine," Claire said, waving her hand dismissively. "The situation at the textile mill is a bit complicated. I need to stay a few more days to assess the damage. You have a lot to do at Apex Wear, so you should head back first."

"But Claire, I..." Ian paused.

The confession he had been preparing for so long was now stuck in his throat because of this sudden disaster.

He lowered his head. "Okay. I’ll go back and wait for you, then. If anything happens, you have to contact me immediately."

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