The emergency room floor of Monroe Medical Group was filled with so much tension, a knife could probably cut through it. It was 7:05 PM, and the energy wasn’t the usual organized chaos of triage and traumas; it was more of frantic chaos. Everyone who wasn't actively saving a life had their phone out, refreshing news sites and whispering in hushed, terrified tones.“Did you see the graphic? Urgent CEO Announcement. That’s never a good sign,” Dr. Thompson, a frazzled-looking resident, muttered to a nurse.“It means someone big just bought someone else big, and we’re the someone else,” the nurse, whose name was Kelly, replied, her arms crossed. “I heard the Monroe family has been bleeding cash for months. Something about that new wing expansion they couldn’t finance.”A third voice chimed in, a respiratory therapist named Dave. “Bleeding cash is an understatement. Remember those stock options we were all promised last year? Poof. Gone. My cousin in accounting said they look like they’r

The front doors swung open and a young woman walked in, a tender, bright smile on her face. Dr. Lily Monroe wasn't Lilian. As a matter of fact, it felt like they were from two different worlds entirely. Lilian was a definition of perfectionism, order, control, and expensive tailoring designed to convey power. Lily, however, was energy wrapped in a cheap, slightly rumpled trench coat, carrying a backpack and a rolling carry-on bag that looked like it had been dragged through several continents. Her hair, a warm brown color, was currently pulled back into a quick, functional ponytail, and she was grinning like she’d just landed in Disneyland, not a debt-ridden hospital owned by a revenge-driven sociopath.She loved hospitals. Not the money or the politics her family obsessed over, but the actual, pulsing heart of the place. She’d spent the last three years in the humanitarian medicine circuit—tents in Southeast Asia, makeshift clinics in South America—where decisions were fast, re

What a waste. Sure, the little confrontation from earlier had been quite unsettling, but Adrian was no fook. He could sense how furious and possessive she was being. Adrian needed to remind himself that Lilian was poison, pure and simple.The next day, Adrian took his first decisive step in dismantling the old guard. He called a private meeting with Dr. Garrison Vance, the Head of Procurement and Logistics, the man who had signed off on the faulty equipment that caused the death on Adrian’s table three years ago. Vance had been William Monroe’s golfing partner and had actively testified against Adrian, claiming Adrian had overridden his warnings.Adrian sat across the table from Vance in the private conference room. Vance was sweating profusely. He'd been seeing the news. And if they were legit, and from what he was seeing they were, it meant that his life was over. Literally. Panic clawed at his throat. “Dr. Vance,” Adrian began, cutting straight to the point. “Our audits show

The voice on the other end of the line was the sound of damnation, and Lilian had accepted the terms. She had said, "I'll do it," but the agreement felt less like a choice and more like sliding down a slick, dark slope she’d already stood too close to.Adrian hadn't just defeated them; he’d exposed them to something far worse than public humiliation. He’d exposed them to those who waited for this moment. A perfect time to strike.A heavily armored, black SUV—nothing flashy really, just some expensive anonymity—picked her up exactly where the voice had told her to wait. A defunct loading dock three miles from MMG. The ride was an eerily silent one, the soundproofed interior making the chaos of the City disappear.She felt like a package being delivered, not a partner being welcomed or going through the introductory phase. For a second, she wondered if she was doing right thing or something. The vehicle stopped inside a massive, windowless warehouse located somewhere near the industr