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Chapter 250 — The Successful Operation
🕑 Added 2025-11-08 16:19:38 +0000 UTCAn appendectomy, as the Tinkerer had said, wasn’t exactly rocket science in modern medicine.
He worked with mechanical precision — every incision, every clamp, every stitch executed with steady, practiced rhythm. There was no wasted motion, no hesitation, not even the faintest tremor of uncertainty.
It was the kind of clinical grace that made it seem as though he were working on a model, not a living human being.
And before young Thomas Bonning could regain consciousness, the operation was done.
The Tinkerer finished the final sutures, cleaned his tools, and slipped out of the operating room without a backward glance.
By the time the patient was wheeled back to his private suite and lifted onto his plush Simmons mattress by two burly orderlies, Thomas began to stir.
“Ugh… what happened? Ow—damn, that hurts!” He clutched his abdomen, trying to sit up.
A nurse quickly restrained him. “Please don’t move, sir. You’ve just had surgery. You need to rest.”
“Surgery? When? I remember going into the OR, but… what happened in there?”
No one answered. The doctors exchanged looks, and even the nurses busied themselves with pointless adjustments rather than meet his eyes.
Councilwoman Susie Bonning, however, visibly relaxed when she saw her son awake. “Doctor,” she asked sharply, “where’s the Tinkerer?”
One of the attending physicians replied helplessly, “He left right after the procedure.”
As he’d said on his way out — if a hospital like Cedars–Sinai still needs me to supervise their post-op care, they might as well shut the place down.
Rude? Yes. Wrong? Not exactly.
“Was the operation successful?” she asked next.
The lead thoracoabdominal surgeon — the same man who’d once operated on Audrey Hepburn — jumped in before anyone else could speak.
“Please rest assured, Councilwoman. The surgery was a complete success. We’ve never witnessed technique so… refined. Swift, clean, efficient.
“We also confirmed that the appendix had perforated — pus had begun to leak into the abdominal cavity — but it’s all been cleared out and the wound closed beautifully.
“Your son will just need time to recuperate. Once he’s healed, he’ll make a full recovery.” He added, smiling too broadly, “Truly remarkable skill. I’d give anything to learn his methods.”
The other doctors blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden flattery — until they realized what he was really doing.
Not praise. Distance.
He was making it clear to everyone in the room: That surgery wasn’t us. Don’t pin it on us. We had nothing to do with it.
They hurried to echo him.
“Yes, extraordinary work. We could only stand aside and watch!”
“Indeed — I’ve never seen anything like it!”
No one wanted their names anywhere near that operation. If they could, they’d have declared that the entire OR no longer belonged to Cedars–Sinai.
Meanwhile, Thomas groaned from the bed. “Then why does it still hurt so damn much?”
A doctor stepped forward carefully. “Mr. Bonning, the pain you’re feeling now isn’t the same kind as before, correct? It’s more on the surface — near the incision?”
Thomas blinked, then nodded. “Yeah. It’s… different.”
“That’s perfectly normal,” the doctor said smoothly. “It means the infection has been removed successfully. Once the incision heals, you’ll be fine.”
“I still hurt,” Thomas muttered, grimacing.
“Understandable. We avoided using analgesics during and immediately after the surgery — we didn’t want to interfere with whatever anesthetic technique your surgeon used. But now that it’s over, we can administer pain relief safely.”
Thomas groaned. “That scar-faced bastard said he had some special method — made me feel nothing during surgery. Tell him to come back and do it again, I can’t take this!”
He paused, brow furrowing. “Wait… how did he put me under? I don’t remember anything at all.”
From the back of the room, a young resident whispered, “Want me to run to the sporting goods store for a bat?”
The people nearest him immediately froze, eyes wide, and began inching away as if he’d just confessed to a crime — which, technically, he had.
Everyone in that room knew exactly what had happened in the OR, and not one of them wanted to ever admit it. The Tinkerer’s “method” might’ve been effective, but it was also the kind of thing that could ruin — or end — a man’s career.
To knock out the heir of a political dynasty with a baseball bat? That wasn’t malpractice — that was suicide.
They all silently prayed the boy would never remember what had really happened. If he did… heads would roll.
Finally, seeing the councilwoman hovering anxiously, the senior surgeon — the one with the most to lose — stepped forward to contain the damage.
“Please don’t worry, Councilwoman,” he said with forced calm. “Your son’s symptoms are entirely normal post-surgical responses. Our team will provide round-the-clock care. He’ll recover quickly.
“As for that doctor’s… unconventional methods, the important thing is that your son is safe. That’s all that matters now.”
“Thank you, doctor,” she said, relief flooding her face.
He winced internally. Don’t thank me, he screamed silently. Thank the lunatic you hired — I didn’t do a damn thing!
Then, as if summoned by fate itself, Thomas bolted upright, eyes wide.
“Wait—! The bat! That scar-faced freak hit me with a bat, didn’t he?!”
For a split second, even the veteran surgeon’s face went pale. Then, in the same breath, he recovered with masterful poise.
“Did he? That doesn’t sound right. Perhaps you’re misremembering, Mr. Bonning. When we entered the OR, you were already under a deep, surgical-level sleep. Anything before that, I’ll have to verify with the others. If it worries you, I’ll investigate personally.”
Thomas frowned, rubbing his temple. “So… I am remembering wrong?”
“Most likely,” the doctor said quickly.
Thomas sank back against the pillows, still uncertain — but too exhausted to argue.
Every doctor in the room exhaled in unison.
