Luke jerked back, pain etched across his face, and let out a muffled sound as he loosened his hold. His eyes, now cold and sharp, locked onto Gillian with a chilling intensity.

Fear gripped her, and she instinctively tried to put space between them, but Luke let out a dry laugh and tossed a small paper bag her way. "Relax, will you? I just wanted to see if you needed something for the pain. Call it a rare moment of kindness."

He brushed off his wrinkled uniform with steady hands and looked her up and down. "But let me give you a warning. Don't go making decisions about surgery to please Ashton. If you try to fix things for his sake, you'll regret it."

Without waiting for a reply, Luke turned on his heel and strode out of the lounge.

Gillian's hands shook as she stared at the bag, half-tempted to throw it away. But when she peeked inside, she saw it was ointment for swelling.

Heat rushed to her cheeks as she remembered the humiliation in the examination room, and Luke's mocking words echoed in her mind.

After a moment's hesitation, she tucked the ointment into her bag and hurried out, nerves still jangling.

Her palms were slick with sweat, but no one seemed to notice her distress as people bustled through the terminal.

One thing was certain—she would never let Luke get close again. She was done with his games and every twisted encounter.

Forcing herself to stay calm, Gillian found a busy corner to wait, finally feeling a sliver of safety in the crowd.

Soon, boarding was announced over the airport's speakers.

With a deep breath, she made her way onto the plane ahead of the other passengers. Right away, she spotted Luke standing near the first-class section, his mouth still faintly bruised from her bite.

His eyes found hers, darker than before. "Glad you could join us."

Gillian refused to acknowledge him. She focused on stowing her luggage, determined to act as if he didn't exist.

There were no other first-class passengers—if Luke decided to pull anything, she would have nowhere to hide.

He watched her with a trace of amusement, unaffected by her cold shoulder. He took her bag and slid it into the overhead bin without a word, and then disappeared into the cockpit.

After takeoff, turbulence struck and the plane rattled violently.

Shouts broke out near the front, and a few frightened passengers began to cry.

With shaky fingers, Gillian lifted the window shade, only to find a wild storm raging outside. Bolts of lightning slashed through the darkness, making the endless black sky look even more menacing.

All around her, flight attendants hurried up and down the aisle, trying to reassure frightened passengers. The turbulence just kept getting worse, rattling the plane and sending panicked cries echoing through the cabin.

Gripping her seatbelt so tightly her knuckles went white, Gillian tried to steady her breathing.

A moment later, a calm, familiar voice broke through the chaos, broadcast over the intercom. "Good evening, everyone. This is Captain Luke Moore. We've hit some rough weather, but my crew and I are here for you. We'll do everything possible to keep you safe and get you where you need to be."

His tone never wavered, and slowly, the panic in the cabin ebbed away.

Something in the way he spoke made Gillian feel as if his last words were meant for her alone.

The plane rocked and rolled, thunder rumbling all around, but Luke's steady hands on the controls kept them from falling apart. Bit by bit, he guided them through the storm's fury, and finally, the plane broke free of the clouds.

By the time the wheels touched down, Gillian's back was soaked with cold sweat.

She didn't waste a second disembarking, practically fleeing the plane to avoid running into Luke again.

The academic seminar stretched across three days, and for once, everything unfolded without a hitch.

Still, Gillian kept thoughts of surgery locked away, haunted by the threat of Luke's interference.

When the last session ended, she packed up and caught the first flight home.

She had barely set foot in the arrivals hall when her phone rang, the hospital director's tone brisk and urgent.

"Gillian, we've got a high-profile patient in a crash just outside the airport. I need you there now—assess the situation, stabilize if you have to."

"I'm on my way," Gillian answered, already moving. She flagged down a cab and relayed the directions.

The accident site came into view with one sports car overturned, debris scattered across the asphalt, twisted metal catching the afternoon light. The second car sat behind it, its front end battered but upright.

Gillian's breath caught. She stood motionless for a second, trying to process the chaos, when emergency crews swarmed the scene.

"Dr. Brown! Over here—we need you to evaluate the driver!" someone called out.

Snapping out of her daze, she rushed forward, just as a man's desperate voice carried from inside the crumpled car. "Please—can anyone get me out of here?"

A chill ran down her spine. That sounded just like Ashton.

Gillian's heart nearly stopped as she recognized Ashton's car twisted in the wreck. For a moment, she could barely breathe, every muscle frozen with shock.

Snapping into action, she dashed to the driver's side, voice trembling as she called out, "Ashton! Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

A beat of silence followed. Then Ashton's strained voice drifted out, clipped and impatient. "Yeah, it's me. Get me out of here, now."

Relief battled with dread as Gillian and the rescue team worked frantically, prying the warped window open and dragging Ashton out. Her hand caught on a jagged edge of glass, leaving a deep gash, but she barely noticed.

She dropped to her knees beside him, blood oozing from her hand. "Are you hurt anywhere else? Was anyone with you?"

Before she could even check him over, Ashton recoiled from her touch, jaw set in annoyance. "Meagan's still trapped up front. Help her first!"

The rescue crew immediately turned their focus to the passenger side, fighting to free Meagan from the mangled car.

Gillian froze there, her mind spinning. Everything Nina had said, the phone call, Meagan's voice—suddenly it all made sickening sense.

So Ashton really had betrayed her. And the other woman was none other than her own adoptive sister, Meagan.

It felt as if her chest had been crushed, sorrow spreading in all directions.

How could Ashton do this, knowing full well how she felt about Meagan?

Memories flooded back. After Gillian's childhood abduction, Fritz had adopted Meagan, while her mother's health deteriorated from grief.

After her mother's passing, Fritz remarried, Gillian was eventually found, but her return didn't make Fritz cherish her—his affection reserved only for Meagan.

Even though every part of it hurt, Gillian kept her pain silent. Meanwhile, Meagan never stopped trying to take what was hers.

Gillian could bear a lot, but this was a line Meagan should never have crossed.

Her voice cracked as she finally asked, "Ashton, what's going on with you and Meagan?"

For a split second, embarrassment flickered in Ashton's eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came. He pressed a hand to his bloodied forehead and glared at her.

"Do we really have to get into this now? Focus on Meagan. If anything happens to her, I'll break off our engagement right here."

Ashton turned away, refusing to meet Gillian's eyes.

She knelt in silence, her face finally hardening as cold calm settled over her.

"Fine," Gillian said, standing up and stepping toward the battered sports car where Meagan was still pinned in the passenger seat.

After a few forceful tugs, the door creaked open, barely hanging on its hinges.

Meagan's leg was wedged deep in the wreckage, and no amount of gentle maneuvering from the rescue team could free her. Their only option was to saw through the crumpled front panel.

One of the medics glanced at Gillian. "Dr. Brown, check her injuries while we set up the tools."

Gillian nodded and leaned in, quickly scanning Meagan's injuries. Aside from a dislocated arm and a few bruises, nothing looked life-threatening.

She positioned her hands and looked Meagan in the eye. "This is going to hurt. Take a deep breath."

With practiced skill, she gave Meagan's arm a sharp, careful twist, popping the bone back into place. A high-pitched scream burst from Meagan's lips.

"What the hell are you doing, Gillian?" Ashton's furious voice echoed behind her.

Gillian straightened up, voice cold and steady. "Her arm was out of joint. I fixed it. There's no other option."

She reached for a roll of plaster from the kit, but Meagan kept wailing. "Stop! Please, it hurts! Gillian, please, don't pull on my arm—please, stop!"

The nonstop sobbing grated on Gillian's nerves. She frowned. "I'm not even using much force..."

Before she could finish, Ashton stormed over, limping, anger written across his face. "Are you punishing her on purpose? You don't need to be that rough with bandages."

Meagan seized the moment, sniffling. "Ashton, maybe she's mad because of us. She's doing this on purpose, isn't she?"

Ashton glared at Gillian. "Is that it? Are you letting your jealousy get in the way of your job? Maybe your director needs to know about this."

Gillian's jaw tightened, but she kept her tone level. "Oil's leaking from the engine and this car could blow at any minute. Is now really the time for your little drama?"