The blinding surgical lights snapped on, turning Operating Room 1 into a sterile, white hell. The air was thick with high-stakes tension.

Heidi stood at the head of the table. She wore dark blue scrubs and custom surgical loupes. She looked like a soldier stepping onto a battlefield.

Dr. Frye stood across from her as the first assistant. He was sweating, his eyes full of bitter doubt.

Behind the massive one-way observation glass, Christian stood perfectly still. His eyes were glued to Heidi's slender frame.

"Bypass machine engaged," the anesthesiologist announced. "Heart is stopped. Clock is running."

Heidi held out her right hand. Her voice was absolute ice. "Scalpel. Ten blade."

The scrub nurse slapped the handle into her palm. Heidi's wrist flicked. The blade sliced through the sternum in one flawless, continuous motion.

There was no hesitation. The cut was so perfectly straight that Dr. Frye actually gasped behind his mask.

For the next two hours, Heidi operated like a machine. Her hands moved with terrifying speed and precision, dissecting the diseased tissue.

In the observation room, the hospital executives stared at the magnified monitors in dead silence. They were witnessing a god at work.

Christian watched her calm, focused profile. His chest ached with that same, maddening familiarity.

The surgery entered the most critical phase: the aortic arch anastomosis. The margin for error was zero.

"Retractor," Heidi ordered Frye. "Hold the ventricular wall. Do not move."

Dr. Frye gripped the metal retractor. But his arms were tired. His nerves were shot. His wrist gave a microscopic twitch.

The sharp edge of the retractor slipped. It tore directly into the fragile aortic arch.

Bright red blood erupted from the tear like a geyser. It sprayed across the surgical field, instantly filling the chest cavity.

The monitors screamed. The alarms blared.

"Pressure is dropping!" the anesthesiologist yelled in panic. "He's crashing!"

Dr. Frye froze. His face went completely white. He couldn't even speak.

Behind the glass, Christian slammed his hands against the window. He stopped breathing.

Heidi didn't flinch. She didn't blink.

"Move," she barked at Frye.

She didn't hesitate. Shoving Frye's trembling hands aside, she plunged her own gloved hand deep into the chest cavity. Her fingers guided by years of experience, instantly found the source of the bleed and clamped down with precise, life-saving pressure.

The geyser stopped. But the surgical field was a lake of dark blood. The tear was completely invisible.

"I need suction!" Frye screamed. "You can't see the tissue!"

"Shut up," Heidi snapped. She held out her right hand. "Prolene suture. Now."

The nurse handed her the needle driver.

In front of a room full of terrified experts, Heidi closed her eyes.

She was going to blind-stitch the aorta. It was a myth. A surgical suicide move. One millimeter off, and Harold would bleed out instantly.

Her right hand moved. The needle dove into the blood. Her fingers guided the thread purely by the tactile feedback of the tissue. She pulled. She stitched. Her hands moved in a blur of blue thread.

Thirty seconds later, she opened her eyes. She pulled her left hand out.

"Suction," she ordered.

The tube cleared the blood. The entire room leaned in.

There, on the aortic arch, was a row of perfectly spaced, impossibly tight stitches. Not a single drop of blood leaked.

Dr. Frye's knees gave out. He collapsed onto a rolling stool, staring at Heidi like she was a deity.

The alarms stopped. The heart monitor returned to a steady rhythm.

Heidi dropped the needle driver onto the tray. She didn't even look at Frye.

"Surgery successful," she said coldly. "Close the chest."

The red warning light above the operating room finally clicked off. The heavy automatic doors slid open.

Heidi walked into the hallway. She pulled off her blood-spattered surgical mask, revealing her pale, exhausted face.

Christian immediately stepped forward. The Page family executives behind him held their breath.

Heidi looked at Christian's tense jawline. "The surgery was a complete success. He is stable."

A collective sigh of relief echoed down the corridor. Executives hugged each other.

The hard lines around Christian's eyes softened. He looked at Heidi with a complex mix of deep gratitude and intense awe.

He stepped closer and held out his right hand. "The Page family owes you a debt we cannot repay, Doctor."

Heidi looked down at his large, calloused hand. Her mind flashed to the hospital room four years ago. The hand that signed her death away.

She kept her hands shoved deep inside her white coat pockets.

"It's a transaction, Mr. Page," she said coldly. "Pay my invoice."

Christian's hand hung in the air. He slowly lowered it. He wasn't angry. He was completely captivated by her ice-cold demeanor.

At that exact moment, a strange vibration buzzed against Heidi's thigh.

It wasn't a normal phone call. It was coming from the encrypted device in her right pocket.

Buzz-buzz-buzz. Buuuzz-buuuzz-buuuzz. Buzz-buzz-buzz.

Three short. Three long. Three short. SOS.

Heidi's heart stopped dead in her chest. It was the emergency beacon she had built for Caleb.

She immediately turned her back to Christian. She pulled the device out. The screen flashed a string of code. Her brain translated it in half a second.

WE ARE TAKEN.

A violent chill shot up Heidi's spine. Her pupils contracted to pinpricks. Her fingernails dug so hard into the metal casing of the phone that her skin tore.

Christian's eyes narrowed. He saw the muscles in her back instantly lock up. He saw the sudden, ragged shift in her breathing.

He took a step toward her. "Doctor? Is there a problem? I have resources-"

Heidi sucked in a sharp breath. She violently shoved the terror of a mother deep down into her gut. When she turned around, her face was a blank wall of ice.

"No," she lied smoothly. "Just an emergency consult at another hospital."

Before Christian could say another word, Heidi ripped off her white coat. She threw it at a passing nurse and broke into a run toward the elevators.

The second the elevator doors closed, her legs shook. She pulled out her phone and dialed her brother Iain's encrypted line.

"Activate the Sky Eye system," Heidi hissed, her voice trembling with pure murder. "Track Caleb's signal. Now."

Ten seconds later, Iain's voice came through. "Queens. Abandoned industrial park."

Heidi sprinted out of the hospital lobby. She ripped open the door to her Range Rover and slammed her foot on the gas. The heavy SUV roared down the Manhattan streets, blowing through three red lights.

Back in the hospital corridor, Christian stared at the closed elevator doors. His eyes were dark and calculating.

She was lying. The look in her eyes wasn't about a medical consult. It was the look of a cornered, violent animal.

Christian turned to his assistant. "Pull the hospital security feeds. Track her car. I want to know exactly where she is going."

The chase was on.

The black Range Rover screeched to a halt outside a rusting, dilapidated auto factory in Queens. Dust kicked up into the night air.

Heidi reached under the driver's seat. She pulled out a Glock 19. She screwed the black suppressor onto the barrel with practiced, deadly efficiency and shoved the gun into her trench coat pocket.

She kicked the rusted side door open. The smell of old motor oil and damp concrete hit her face.

In the center of the massive, empty warehouse, a single yellow bulb swung from the ceiling.

Caleb and Seraphina were tied to metal chairs under the light. Caleb sat perfectly straight, his eyes cold and calculating. Seraphina's face was stained with tears, but she bit her lip to stay quiet. When she saw Heidi step out of the shadows, her eyes lit up.

Sitting on a stack of tires a few feet away was Bobbie Weeks. He was a heavy man with cheap tattoos covering his forearms. He took a drag from a cheap cigarette and laughed.

"You got guts, lady. Coming alone," Bobbie sneered.

Heidi stopped ten paces away. She looked at him like he was already a corpse. "Let them go."

Bobbie stood up. He pulled a switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open. He held the blade inches from Caleb's cheek.

"Fifty million in Bitcoin," Bobbie demanded, tapping a tablet on the barrel next to him. "Send it to this wallet, or the boy loses an eye."

Heidi didn't blink. A cruel, mocking smile touched her lips. "Do you really think you're smart?"

Bobbie frowned.

"You're a low-level thug from downtown," Heidi said, her voice echoing in the empty room. "Does your daughter, Brigette, know you're doing this? Or is she too busy playing a high-society whore at the Page estate?"

Bobbie's face went pale. His eyes darted around in panic. He didn't expect this rich doctor to know his true relationship with Brigette—a scandalous secret that could destroy her fake high-society persona.

Anger flushed his face red. "Shut your mouth!" he roared. He pressed the knife closer to Caleb. "I'm counting to three! One! Two-"

Heidi drew the Glock.

Pfft.

The suppressed gunshot was a dull thud.

The bullet tore straight through Bobbie's right wrist. Blood exploded into the air.

Bobbie screamed like a slaughtered pig. The switchblade clattered to the concrete. He fell to his knees, clutching his shattered wrist.

Heidi closed the distance in three strides. She kicked his uninjured hand away and slammed the sharp heel of her stiletto down onto the back of his bleeding hand, pinning it to the concrete floor.

Bobbie shrieked in agony, thrashing on the floor.

Heidi pressed the hot muzzle of the Glock directly between his eyes. "Do you still want the Bitcoin?" she whispered.

Behind her, Caleb's sharp eyes darted around, landing on a jagged shard of rusted metal near the leg of his chair. He subtly shuffled his feet, using the sharp edge to saw relentlessly at the worn rope binding his ankles until it snapped. He quickly freed his sister, and pulled her behind a concrete pillar.

Bobbie sobbed, his face twisting in terror. "Please! I was just hired! I just wanted the money!"

Heidi ground her heel harder into his bone. "Who hired you? Give me a name!"

The pain broke Bobbie's mind. Desperate to find leverage, he screamed the one thing he thought would stop her.

"I'll tell you everything!" Bobbie gasped, spitting blood as his voice dropped to a desperate, raspy whisper that only she could hear. "It was Brigette! She saw how Christian looked at you today! She was terrified you'd take her place! But there's more! I know her biggest secret! She answers to a man she calls The General! They are the ones who arranged the warehouse fire four years ago! I set the blaze! I can testify against them!"

The words echoed off the metal walls.

Heidi froze. Her pupils dilated violently. Her finger tightened on the trigger.