Emma dipped her head once and lowered herself into the car.

As the door shut, the driver, Tom Briggs, stole a glance at her through the rearview mirror. His eyes paused on the red mark on her face, and an old memory surfaced unbidden. The calm poise she carried was uncannily similar to her birth mother, Mary Pearson, when she was young—cool, dignified, and impossible to overlook.

The engine roared to life, and the car shot forward, kicking up dust that drifted back and settled squarely on the three figures who had followed her outside.

Maggie coughed, her face contorting. "That ungrateful girl! No upbringing at all. We were far too lenient with her just now!"

Then something occurred to her. Her eyes widened, and her voice rose sharply. "Hold on—wasn't that car featured on the cover of last week's financial magazine? How on earth did that hideous woman end up riding in something like that?"

Jason remained silent. His brows were drawn tightly together as his gaze followed the departing limited-edition Bugatti.

That vehicle wasn't something money alone could secure.

Katherine observed him from the corner of her eye, thoughts spinning quickly. "Did Emma arrange all of this ahead of time?" she said slowly. "Otherwise, the timing is too perfect. And the way she got into that car... she looked far too accustomed to it. It couldn't have been her first time. Maybe she knows some loaded guy."

Jason's expression darkened at once. The muscles in his jaw clenched, and the veins along his clenched hands stood out starkly.

...

Inside the moving car, Emma finally broke the silence. "Tom, where are we headed?"

"Tulip Villas," Tom replied. "It's roughly a two-hour drive. You should rest."

A brief flash of surprise crossed Emma's eyes. Tulip Villas was known as the most tightly guarded residential area for Glexdale's elite.

She pushed aside her questions for the moment and spoke again. "Tom, could we stop by Grace Memorial Hospital first?"

"Are you not feeling well?" Concern immediately edged into his voice.

"No." Emma's gaze dimmed slightly. "I want to see Alexander Baxter one last time before I go."

Among the Baxters, Jason's grandfather had been the only one who ever treated her with genuine warmth.

At Grace Memorial Hospital, Emma navigated the corridors with familiarity until she reached Alexander's room.

Lying in the bed, he was still unconscious. The illness had drained him terribly—his body frail, each breath shallow and strained.

Emma's eyes burned. She reached out and gently wrapped her fingers around his cold hand.

"Emma?"

A calm, familiar voice sounded behind her.

She blinked, steadying herself, and turned around. Seeing the man, she gave a small nod. "Dr. Andrews. How is he doing?"

Nate Andrews followed her gaze to the bed and released a long, heavy sigh. "The outlook isn't good. The cancer has metastasized. At this stage, conventional treatments are unlikely to make much difference."

Emma pressed her lips together, and then pulled a small vial from her pocket and casually tossed it to Nate.

He caught it, studying the container with confusion. Suddenly, his eyes widened.

"That's... a miracle drug for cancer. Only ten vials have ever been released worldwide. Where on earth did you get this?"

Nate's gaze lingered on Emma, deep in thought.

He added, "About a year ago, I faced a case that had me stuck for two weeks. You just happened to walk by, took one glance, and solved it. Since Alexander was admitted, you've pulled him back from the edge more times than I can count."

He stared at her, disbelief plain in his eyes.

"Emma... who exactly are you?"

But Emma's face remained unreadable, clearly uninterested in revealing anything more.

Nate dropped the subject, shifting gears. "You've been nothing but a blessing to the Baxters, and yet look how they've treated you. You deserve better than that..."

Before he could finish, Emma interrupted with a dry, faint smile. "Please take care of Alexander for me."

This medicine had nothing to do with Jason or any of the family drama. It was simply the last favor she could do for the old man.

With that, she turned to leave. As she passed by the adjacent ward, she glimpsed a flurry of doctors gathered in urgent discussion.

"Mr. Miller's condition has taken a sharp turn for the worse. It's critical!"

"At this point, surgery is the safest option."

"Let's hold off a little longer. The family is expected within the next thirty minutes."

Emma's gaze cut through the chaotic scene, settling on the frail, pale figure lying unconscious in the bed.

The constant beeping of the heart monitor filled the room with tension.

Her voice was calm but steely as she spoke, slicing through the noise. "He has no more than twenty minutes left. If you don't operate now, he won't make it."

As Emma's words hung in the air, all eyes snapped toward her.

The medical staff exchanged looks of thinly veiled contempt upon seeing her plain, unimpressive appearance.

"Watch your tone. You just graduated, didn't you? Do you think skimming a few textbooks suddenly makes you an expert?"

"If surgery were a realistic choice, we would have made the call already. Brain operations are challenging even under ideal conditions. Given this patient's history, attempting another now is like fighting a battle against death itself."

"In a case like this, only someone miraculous, like the mysterious doctor Solacer, could offer a shred of hope."

"You'd be better off focusing on fixing your own face than wasting our time here."

Emma's eyes didn't flicker. A cold chuckle escaped her lips. "Since when did medicine require judging books by their covers?"

Before anyone could respond, a soft but sharp voice cut through the tension.

"Emma, you've been a housewife ever since marrying Jason. When did you become a medical expert?"

Emma turned to find Jason and Katherine walking in her direction.

Were they coming for Katherine's prenatal appointment?

A wave of nausea hit Emma, and she fought hard to keep from gagging.

Katherine wore an innocent expression, but her words were sharp. "Emma, I know you like being the center of attention, but this isn't a time to joke about someone's life."

The doctors rallied around her, joining in the criticism.

"A housewife thinks she can call the shots here?"

"You'd better head back to the kitchen. This is no place for your foolishness!"

Emma's stare turned ice-cold.

They had no clue that the woman they dismissed as just a housewife was actually the famed doctor known as Solacer.

Under that name, Emma had earned immense respect in the global medical community. She had saved countless lives on the edge of death, earning the admiration of many leading physicians.

Just for Jason, she had willingly set aside her medical career, swapping the surgeon's tools for kitchen utensils.

And what did she get? Heartless betrayal and shameless manipulation by a homewrecker.

The bitter lesson had sunk in—sacrificing herself for a man would never earn respect.

Only by reclaiming her power would she ensure she was never looked down on again.

Katherine, watching Emma endure their scorn, felt a secret thrill.

Raising her voice with deliberate intent, she challenged, "Emma, since you act like you know it all, do you really have the guts to perform this surgery? Just so you know, the patient inside is Rick Miller. A simple housewife like you likely has no clue about the Miller family's immense power, do you?" Her voice dripping with contempt, Katherine taunted, "If something goes wrong, nothing you do could ever make up for it, not even giving up your life!"

Emma's voice rang out, steady and resolute. "Sure. I can do it."

The moment those words left her lips, the doctors around her exploded into uproarious protests.

"Are you out of your mind? A housewife performing brain surgery?"

"If anything happens to Mr. Miller, the whole hospital will be on the line!"

"The Millers wield enormous power; if you want to throw your life away, don't take the rest of us down too!"

"Security! Remove this lunatic at once!"

At the command, a group of security guards forced their way through the throng, their hands reaching out toward Emma.

But through the chaos and shouting, a firm, powerful voice rose above the clamor.

"I'll be her assistant," Nate declared boldly.

He pushed past the crowd, positioning himself squarely in front of Emma, using his own body to shield her from the advancing security guards.

His eyes scanned the doubtful faces surrounding them as he finished, his voice dripping with unwavering determination.

"I will take full responsibility for whatever happens—all on my own."

The doctors' faces drained of color, their expressions filled with stunned disbelief.

"Nate! What on earth are you thinking?" A chief physician advanced, his voice tense with urgency. "If Rick doesn't make it through that operation, the fallout will ruin this entire hospital!"

A female physician seized Nate's arm, whispering anxiously, "Nate, please consider your future. You're the hospital's finest talent. Is risking everything for some reckless woman really worth it?"

Another doctor chimed in, "She's just a housewife! What expertise could she possibly have? This is madness, Nate. Don't let yourself be pulled into this disaster."

Amidst the chorus of concern, Katherine's eyes sparkled with hidden satisfaction.

Adopting a facade of sympathy, she said, "Dr. Andrews, I understand your loyalty to Emma through Jason, but this isn't some trivial spat. We're talking about a man's life hanging in the balance."

She then faced Emma, her voice thick with feigned pity. "Just admit your mistake, Emma. No one will fault you for stepping aside now."

Emma locked eyes with Katherine, a chill, derisive smile curling her lips.

"If you're so confident," Emma challenged, "why don't we raise the stakes with a bet?"

Katherine blinked, clearly taken aback. "A bet?"

The doctors burst into renewed uproar.

"She wants to bet? Does she think this is some kind of game?"

"Nate, can you believe this rubbish? Will you really stand by such folly?"

Fueled by the crowd's indignation, Katherine raised her chin arrogantly. "This is Grace Memorial Hospital, Emma, the finest medical team in Glexdale. And you? You've spent years in the kitchen, not the OR. What makes you think you can succeed where they've failed? Swallow your pride before it's too late."

Emma met her gaze steadily, the contempt in her eyes growing sharper. "All talk and no action. You're just afraid to back up your words with a real challenge."

"Afraid? Me?" Katherine snapped, fury flaring. "Fine! If you lose, you'll run naked around the hospital block ten times! Let everyone see what a laughingstock you are!"

Emma's answer was calm and immediate. "If I win, you'll confess here, in front of everyone, how you had an affair with a married man and got pregnant."

Katherine's face paled briefly, but steeling herself with thoughts of the impossible surgery ahead, she hissed, "Deal!"

Backed by Nate's personal promise and a hurried, surprisingly clean credentials check, the hospital was forced to permit Emma to proceed.

The OR buzzed with frantic energy as preparations ramped up.

Right when Emma headed to scrub in, Jason stepped forward to block her way.

Her voice was icy as she asked, "What do you want?"

"Emma, don't let spite drive you," he murmured. "The Millers hold too much power. You won't win. I've searched everywhere for Solacer for my grandfather, but to no avail. Only someone like that legendary doctor could manage Rick Miller's case. You're not that person. Please, stop."

Emma met his eyes, her stare so piercing it felt like a blade. "You have no authority to dictate my actions."

Without a second thought, she brushed past him and entered the OR.

Jason watched her go, his brow furrowed deeply, a knot of worry tightening inside him.

Katherine approached quietly, her tone soothing. "Jason, she's only acting on impulse..."

"Enough, Katherine," he replied sharply, his voice harsher than usual.

Without looking back, he strode away.

Back inside the surgical observation room, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Every monitor reflected the anxious eyes of onlookers.

Emma stood composed by the table, her steady presence lending her the air of a professional surgeon.

Soon enough, the surgery commenced. She arranged Rick carefully on the table, her movements precise and assured.

"Anesthesia ready. Scalpel here. Hand me the tools."

Her instructions to Nate came low and exact.

Her hands did not tremble—her initial incision was crisp and sure.

But as she peered deeper into the brain's complex labyrinth, her brow tightened in concern.

The situation was far grimmer than she had initially expected.

In the observation area, doctors exchanged uneasy glances and fidgeted anxiously.

"Even the most skilled surgeons might falter in this delicate procedure."

"We never should have allowed this. Our careers are on the line."

Emma, however, remained laser-focused, her eyes never leaving the monitor as she analyzed every detail.

Then she spotted it—a tiny fragment, foreign and embedded deep within the tissue.

"Zoom in. Closer."

The image was magnified, revealing the minuscule intruder.

With unwavering precision, her tools navigated the delicate, hazardous area. Moments later, she carefully extracted the minute object intact.

Suddenly, the dynamics shifted, and praise filled the room.

"Incredible! To identify such a precise location by sight alone and remove it with such finesse? Her hands must be impossibly steady."

"Rick's cranial injuries were already precarious. Extracting such a minute object from tangled adhesions was an extraordinary feat."

"Her expertise is unmatched. There's scarcely another surgeon like her anywhere on the planet."

While awe and whispers buzzed inside, a new group gathered outside the OR doors.

Leading them was a man who carried himself with an authoritative presence, parting the crowd effortlessly.

Handsome, with an intense but controlled demeanor, his expression was stern and commanding.

The hospital director hurried up, flustered and breathless. "Mr. Miller, your grandfather was in critical condition. We had no choice but to act immediately."

But Brayden Miller's focus wasn't on the director's explanation. Instead, his eyes were locked on the figure inside—the woman bent over the patient, utterly immersed in her work.

His voice was quiet but sharp, slicing through the noise.

"Who is she?"