Stephanie chose to keep things simple, shaking her head. "No, that's not the case."

The older doctor's face fell, disappointment written across his features. Maybe he'd guessed wrong about her background, he figured. Maybe she hadn't studied under Dr. Clayton at all.

Shifting her focus, Stephanie gently helped the little girl to her feet, reaching into her purse for a tissue. She dabbed away the sweat from the child's brow and asked, "Feeling better?"

The girl's whole face brightened as she blinked at Stephanie. "I've never felt this good before! Thank you, miss. You're incredible. I want my brother to thank you properly!"

Smiling softly, Stephanie finished wiping the girl's forehead. "I'm just happy you're okay now. There's no need for any thanks."

Meanwhile, Aimee forced herself up, wincing from the pain. She couldn't hide her shock as she stared at the scene, struggling to accept that Stephanie had actually saved a girl.

Anger flashed in her eyes. "Don't get carried away, Stephanie. If anything goes wrong with her, you'll be the one to blame!"

The bystanders had enough of her attitude. An elderly man spoke up with a frown. "The girl's awake and talking. Why must you assume the worst? That's an awful thing to say."

Aimee retorted, her voice rising, "Stay out of this! She only woke up because there was nothing wrong to begin with. This woman is no doctor. I'm telling the little girl's parents and making sure this fraud faces the consequences!"

Stephanie's expression grew cold at Aimee's words, and she was ready to respond.

But before she could speak, an egg came flying through the air and smacked into Aimee's face, drenching her in sticky yolk. And yogurt followed in rapid succession.

In less than five seconds, Aimee found herself drenched and humiliated, barely recognizable beneath the mess.

With her fists clenched and her face burning, she let out a furious scream before bolting from the scene.

"My name's Raegan." The little girl bowed deeply to Stephanie. "I've struggled with a terrible illness for so long. Even the best doctors couldn't help me. If you hadn't stepped in, I wouldn't have made it today."

Raegan Elliott introduced herself, her sweet voice and wide, gentle eyes shining with innocence.

"You've got a beautiful name. Where are your family?"

With a burst of energy, Raegan pointed toward the grand building behind them. "They're inside!"

Stephanie glanced at the towering hotel. The place catered to the wealthy—a far cry from a typical family hangout.

A second look at Raegan revealed her tangled hair and rumpled clothes, but the crisp white dress she wore was clearly expensive.

Given the complexity of Raegan's illness, Stephanie decided it would be best to speak directly with her family.

She tapped Raegan on the head, offering a gentle warning. "You really shouldn't wander off alone, you know. It's not safe. Come on, let's get you back to your family."

"Great!" Raegan's face lit up. She gazed at Stephanie, admiration written all over her. In her mind, anyone so warmhearted—and with such extraordinary medical skills—would make a perfect match for her brother.

"My mom says there's a big-person rule: if you help their kid, you get a thank you from them. Oh, and you're really pretty! You must already have a boyfriend, right?"

The question caught Stephanie off guard. "No, I don't."

Raegan's grin grew even wider. "Perfect! I'll introduce you to my brother. He's super handsome and really rich. You can be his wife!"

Stephanie let out a soft laugh and brushed a hand through Raegan's hair. "That's very sweet of you, but I'm not looking to get married any time soon."

At just eighteen, she had no plans to think about marriage—her sights were set on building her future.

"Alright." Raegan sighed, her excitement fizzling out. Shoulders slumped, she shuffled along beside Stephanie.

Once they reached the third floor of the hotel, Raegan pointed out a particular door. "That's my brother's room."

They hadn't even knocked before the door swung open. A round-faced woman stepped into the hallway, her worry melting into relief when she spotted Raegan.

"Oh, Raegan, there you are! Mr. Elliott's been frantic searching for you," the woman said, her tone full of concern.

She wasted no time, quickly pulling out her phone and dialing. "Mr. Elliott, Raegan has returned."

Lowering herself to Raegan's level, the woman added gently, "Your brother's down at the entrance. He'll be up here any minute now."

Raegan beamed and turned to Stephanie. "Don't go anywhere, alright? I'm bringing my brother to meet you, so stay right here!"

With a reassuring smile, Stephanie nodded. "I promise, I'll be waiting."

Patricia Torres, the middle-aged housekeeper, waited until Raegan stepped out before turning her sharp stare on Stephanie. She let out a short laugh and said, "Are you just going to stand there all day, country woman? If you think hanging around Raegan is going to get you anywhere with Mr. Elliott, you're wasting your time."

She had watched many women try their luck with Waylon, convinced that a quick wit or a pretty face would guarantee them a comfortable life.

Stephanie ignored her and fixed her gaze on the bleak sky outside the window.

"Raegan vanished just now. You must've had a hand in it, haven't you? If you know what's good for you, leave now before Mr. Elliott loses his patience!" Patricia didn't back down. She raised her voice.

Stephanie finally turned to her, her voice calm but steady. "I'm not going anywhere. The little girl's situation is serious. I was the one who rescued her from certain death, and I need to speak directly with her family."

Patricia couldn't hide her disbelief. The idea that this quiet young lady could pull off something that top doctors failed to do was almost funny.

Waylon had brought in specialists from everywhere, but Raegan never got any better. Patricia saw no reason to believe Stephanie could do what they couldn't.

"Get out, and don't even think about trying to take advantage of the Elliott family. If you're still here when Mr. Elliott shows up, you'll regret it."

Stephanie scoffed, though her worry for Raegan lingered. She replied, firm and unwavering, "Fine, I'll go if you insist. But if Raegan's health takes a turn because you wouldn't listen, nobody can fix that—not even a miracle."

Patricia's patience snapped, and she jabbed a finger at Stephanie. "Who do you think you are, talking like that? Are you trying to jinx Raegan? Somebody get her out of here—now!"

Her shout was the cue for a group of bodyguards, dressed in crisp black suits, to close in around Stephanie. Their heavy footsteps and blank expressions were meant to intimidate.

Stephanie found herself boxed in by the bodyguards, each one standing tall and brimming with confidence from years of training. Their hard stares never fazed her, though. She just measured them calmly, certain that no amount of muscle would make a difference.

Every thought in her mind centered on Raegan's fragile state—no one else there understood what needed to be done.

Stephanie glanced at the bodyguards dismissively, not taking them seriously at all. Before they could act, she moved with speed and precision. In the blink of an eye, the entire group hit the floor, left groaning and clutching at aching limbs.

Patricia could only gape at the scene, her disbelief plain. Even after seeing Stephanie drop a handful of trained men with little effort, she struggled to process it.

"You..."

Without a word, Stephanie pulled a notebook and a pen from her backpack. She scribbled down a careful list, tore out the page, and handed it to Patricia. "If you want Raegan stable, stick to this treatment for now."

Patricia, still stunned, took the paper with a trembling hand, unable to say anything more.

Not wasting another second, Stephanie brushed past her. She walked away with a quiet confidence, making her way to the elevator.

At that moment, another elevator opened across the hall.

A man appeared, gently holding Raegan by the hand as they stepped into view.

He was none other than Waylon Elliott himself.

A custom-made suit fit him flawlessly, and his tall, lean build gave off an air of quiet authority. Sharp eyes sat beneath well-defined features, making him hard to overlook.

When he lifted his hand, the diamond cufflinks at his wrist caught the light and flashed.

Narrowing his gaze, he followed the direction Raegan was looking and asked, "Was that the one who helped you?"

By the time Raegan turned her head, the elevator doors had already slid shut.

Stephanie had been there seconds ago, yet she had vanished without a trace. Raegan instantly knew who was responsible.

Turning sharply, she glared at Patricia and shouted, "Did you force her to leave?"

Panic washed over Patricia as soon as she saw the look on Raegan's face.

Even in poor health, Raegan was sharp-minded. Her temper was well known in the household, and the staff had learned to tread carefully around her.

Only her brother and grandmother ever managed to calm her down.

Flustered, Patricia tried to explain herself, saying, "She-she looked so ordinary. I thought she was here to trick your family out of money, so I..."

Anger surged across Raegan's face as she cut her off. "And who gave you the right to decide she couldn't help me? While you were busy flattering important guests, I collapsed outside the hotel with no one around. If she hadn't stepped in, I wouldn't even be standing here now."

"Is that what happened?" Waylon's voice was ice-cold as he fixed Patricia with a piercing stare.

Patricia shrank beneath his gaze, her nerves betraying her. For a long moment, she couldn't force out a single word.

Without waiting for an answer, Waylon's command was sharp and final. "Take her away."

"Yes, sir." A pair of guards rushed to obey, grabbing Patricia by the arms. Her protests faded quickly as she was led down the hall and out of sight.

Raegan whirled around, urgency widening her eyes. "Waylon, please. You have to help me find her!"

"Don't worry." Waylon softened at the sight of his little sister's distress, his voice gentle for her alone. "I'll make sure she's found."

That promise brought relief to Raegan's face, and she nodded with hope.

Just then, a man hurried in and handed Waylon a slip of paper. "Sir, we found this. The woman who saved your sister left it behind."

Waylon studied the graceful script and the list of instructions carefully written out. Respect flickered in his eyes as he took in the clear, thorough medical notes. Whoever this woman was, her expertise was beyond question.

A sense of hope took root in his chest. If he could track her down, there was a real chance to save his sister.

Annoyance simmered in Stephanie's chest as she dialed Milly. "Forget the Elliott family case. I'm done with them."

Milly's voice crackled with surprise. "What happened?"

Stephanie thought back to the entitled housekeeper and replied, her tone cold, "They're too full of themselves. I'm not interested in working with arrogant people."

She paused, then added with a touch of regret, "It's a shame about the little girl, though. She's in bad shape. I left a prescription behind. Hopefully, someone else can help her."

After wrapping up the call, Stephanie made her way to the pharmaceutical research institute. Every drug she carried in her kit had been developed there, and her research on gene therapy needed her urgent attention. With the new semester at Veridia University fast approaching, she knew she'd soon be pulled away from the institute.

Her promise to attend university wasn't just for herself. It was to honor Sylvia Clayton—Colin's mother, the only person in the Clayton family who had ever shown her kindness. On her deathbed, Sylvia had pressed Stephanie's hand and urged her to get a diploma, no matter how gifted she was.

Meanwhile, Milly came across a new announcement from Waylon. He'd doubled the pay to a staggering one hundred million, determined to track down any doctor who could save his sister. Milly quietly chose not to mention it to Stephanie.

Three days passed, and Stephanie was deep into her experiments when Milly showed up with an ornate invitation—Rory, the infamous arms dealer, was hosting a banquet.

Their supply of weapons and ammunition was running dangerously low, and if Stephanie didn't secure a deal soon, her territory would be vulnerable to takeover.

Saturday evening, Stephanie arrived right on schedule.

The fifth-floor banquet hall buzzed with energy. Inside, two or three dozen people mingled, each one eyeing the competition—potential buyers sizing up the evening's offerings.

At the center of it all stood Rory, surrounded by his usual circle of admirers. The moment he spotted Stephanie, he broke away, heading straight for her with a rare note of respect in his tone. "I've been hoping you'd show. This time, you can't leave without buying from me."

Stephanie offered a cool nod. "Actually, I need to speak with you about something important."

At that moment, Waylon strode into the banquet hall, his suit immaculate and presence commanding.

His eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on Stephanie.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. Wasn't she the one who'd rescued Raegan just days ago? He'd assumed she'd be older, not a woman who barely looked eighteen. How could someone so young have such extraordinary skill? And what business did she have at a gathering hosted by Rory?

Waylon had just started toward her when the first shots cracked through the banquet hall, followed by a body hitting the floor as blood spread across the tiles.

Panic tore through the room, guests screaming as they dove for cover in every direction.

Scanning the chaos in an instant, Waylon caught sight of a masked gunman at the entrance, the barrel of his weapon trained straight on Stephanie.

He reacted without hesitation.

Another round of gunfire echoed.

"Get out of the way!"

A hard shove sent Stephanie stumbling as pain flared across her shoulder, the bullet narrowly grazing her.

She ducked behind a thick pillar, realizing only then that Waylon had pulled her out of the line of fire.

There was no time to dwell on it, so she steadied her breathing and assessed the situation from cover.

Three attackers moved through the hall, each wearing a scaring mask, their guns still raised.

Something about the attack didn't add up. Stephanie wondered, who would be bold enough to stage an assault at a banquet thrown by Rory himself?

Was the target Waylon? It made sense—his reputation was built on power and ruthlessness, and he'd made many enemies on his climb to the top.

Lost in thought, Stephanie watched as the masked shooters zeroed in on a silver-haired man who looked to be in his seventies.

Gunfire erupted in their direction, and a bodyguard threw himself in front of the old man, only to be struck down on the spot.

At this rate, the elderly guest wouldn't survive much longer.

Spotting a brief lull while one shooter reloaded, Stephanie didn't hesitate. She sprinted across the chaos, snatched the old man from danger, and dove aside, bullets slicing the air around them.

Panic swept the hall as screams rang out, but Stephanie managed to drag the man behind a marble pillar just as another shot cracked through the room.

Stephanie tumbled with the elderly man, sheltering both of them behind the thick pillar.

"You're really looking for trouble!" The nearest gunman spat a threat and lifted his weapon to take aim once more.

Before another shot could be fired, Waylon stepped directly into the line of danger, positioning himself between the shooter and their hiding place.

Stephanie's voice rose urgently. "Waylon, watch out—"

Before Stephanie could finish her warning, a sudden flurry of gunfire ripped through the hall.

In the blink of an eye, the masked attackers crashed to the floor, their fates sealed by well-placed shots.

Waylon remained in front of Stephanie, unflinching, a pistol steady in his grasp and tension radiating from his stance.

Noticing her lingering stare, he met her eyes for a brief moment before addressing his team. "Take care of things here."

He showed not a flicker of emotion, as though the chaos around them was nothing out of the ordinary.

Realizing she'd been staring, Stephanie quickly shifted her attention to the elderly man at her side. "Sir, are you hurt?"

The old man didn't answer right away. Instead, he studied her face with an intensity that caught her off guard. "You look so familiar!"

Stephanie frowned, uncertain. "Familiar how?"

Aaron's eyes widened in disbelief and wonder. "Eighteen years. I've been searching for you for eighteen years. You are my granddaughter!"