The Runaway Groom
Chapter 844

Irene waved him off and said. “I'm fine. Probably just bad food. Get the car right now."

"Where are we going?" Eagle asked.

"Back to the hospital,” Finn said, answering on Irene's behalf since she looked really sick.

Eagle quickly got the car without another question, while Finn helped Irene into it.

As Eagle drove to the hospital, Finn asked in concern, "Are you alright?"

Irene actually thought that her pain subsided since the initial pang. "Much better."

Color was returning to her face as well.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Finn said, “You must be under a lot of pressure lately. Maybe you were too anxious when you saw Director Turner faint?"

Irene ran the possibilities through her mind.

She did not eat anything cold or dirty, so it was not food.

Maybe it was as Finn put it—she was under too much pressure. "Maybe!"

Her stomachache completely faded when they reached the hospital. However, just as she alighted, James arrived and intercepted her, asking grimly, "What are you doing here?"

Irene said, "I was going to check on Dennis Turner—"

"Don't. He's dead—you should leave, and stay away. It's a mess over there."

Irene would have dropped to her knees if she was not holding on to the door.

Her voice quivering with disbelief, she asked, "H-He's dead?"

"Yes," James answered with assurance.

"What?! How?!" Irene had a hard time accepting it.

"What's happened has happened. We have to go—from here on, we must be careful.” James then assured her, "It's not your fault either. Don't dwell on it."

As Irene returned inside her car, James told Eagle to keep both eyes on her. "Don't let her get out of the car. I'll be right back once I've arranged something."

It was always Eagle's duty to protect Irene. "You have nothing to worry about.”

James then directed his men to retrieve lan and keep a constant eye on him. Then, he ran back to Irene’s car, telling Eagle to drive Irene home.

Along the way, he whipped out his phone to call Isaac since this incident might get blown out of proportion.

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However, Irene suddenly put a hand on James's arm. "Wait."

As James looked at her in confusion, she said, "I need you to look for a person.”

"Who?" James asked.

"Ray Hall," she said, having gradually calmed down to think. "He works at that hospital and would definitely know the result of Dennis’ most recent medical examination. I want to know how Dennis died—whether it's due to the surgery or the artificial heart..."

James hesitated for a moment, and he then said, "Alright."

It took almost an hour for James to bring Ray to Irene.

The instant he saw her, she asked, "You know, don't you?"

Irene nodded, and gestured for Mrs. Watson to bring him a glass of water.

Before Irene asked, Ray told her, "Dennis Turner was perfectly fine when I first examined him. Everything was good... So what killed him out of the blue?"

"Weren't you there at the time?" Irene asked.

Ray shook his head. "There were too many people in that ward— Dennis's family, the journalists... I couldn't even squeeze my way in." "What's the cause of death?" Irene then asked.

"Unknown at present,” Ray admitted. "His family—especially his son— is making a huge racket at the hospital as we speak!"

Irene pursed her lips. "I understand. Right now, I need you to keep Dennis's body isolated. I'll get a reliable forensic doctor for the post- mortem.”

Ray was hesitant. "Isn't that up to his family?"

Irene, however, did not believe Neil would be agreeable—he would refuse a post-mortem.

She was the one who insisted on operating on Dennis, and the hospital even recorded a video of her stating as much to maintain their innocence.

As she was the one who assumed that responsibility, Neil would most definitely be after her!

That was why she must find out the cause of Dennis's death.

She would assume responsibility if it really was the surgery.

But it was another thing entirely if it was not!

"Alright, I'll go back to the hospital right now to keep an eye on the body," Ray said, rising to his feet.

Irene had her old chauffeur send him back while she sat on the living room couch, pondering.

The only forensic doctor she trusted and was good enough was Lulu Adams.

In fact, she would only be relieved if it were Lulu who examined the body.

After hesitating for a few seconds, she whipped out her phone and texted the number Lulu used before.

[I'd rather not disturb you, Lulu, but I'm in a spot of trouble. Only you can help me. Please reply when you see this text.]

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