The terrifying echo of the door blast still rang through the operating theater.Outside the glass partition in the viewing hallway, two heavy boots pressed down on the backs of Jake and Marcus, pinning them face-down against the floor. The cold metal barrels of rifles were pressed firmly against the backs of their heads.“Don’t move, or your brains will be pasted across the wall,” a masked gunman growled above them.Inside the operating theater, chaos broke loose.The four gunmen fanned out, their assault rifles raised as red laser sights swept across the terrified faces of the medical team.“Who are you?! What do you want?!” Dr. Lawson gasped, his voice cracking as sweat ran into his eyes. “Why are you doing this?! This is a medical facility!”The lead gunman stepped forward, his face completely hidden behind the ballistic mask. He ignored the question and raised his weapon, pointing the muzzle directly between Dr. Lawson’s eyes.“Keep your mouth shut before I put a round through you

“Defibrillator! Charge to two hundred!” Dr. Lawson barked, his voice cutting through the shrieking alarm.The nurse placed the gel-covered paddles into his hands. Dr. Lawson pressed them firmly against Gregory’s chest.“Clear!”THUMP!Gregory’s body jolted off the operating frame before falling limp against the padding.The green line on the monitor fluttered but remained dangerously flat.“Increase to three hundred! Clear!”THUMP!Silence filled the room for two agonizing seconds.Then a sharp spike appeared on the monitor, followed by a weak chime.Beep… beep… beep…“Sinus rhythm has been restored!” the anesthesiologist gasped, slumping against the console in relief. “His vitals are stabilizing.”Dr. Lawson didn’t waste a second. His hands moved with practiced precision as he drove the final metal staples across the outer layer of skin, sealing the incision.“Move him to Intensive Care. Keep two units of plasma running and lock down the recovery wing.”An hour later, the grounds of

The video recording on the eighty-inch display continued to play, its sharp audio echoing through every corner of the room.On the screen, Robert took a slow sip from his glass and leaned back."Are you sure about the location? If your information is wrong and we strike the wrong clinic, we blow our cover for nothing."Tristan let out a cold, dismissive scoff."My mother had a phone call with him yesterday. She looked flustered and secretive the moment she hung up. When she stepped into the garden to tend to her plants, she left her phone unlocked on the kitchen counter with WhatsApp open."Tristan's face on the monitor twisted into a sinister smile."The appointment confirmation from St. Jude International was right there at the top of her chat log with Julian," Tristan continued, his voice devoid of warmth. "Date, time, surgical room number. The fool actually thought he could hide it from me. Five million from my holding account, five million from yours. Ten million dollars to make

Gregory had spent three days at the Hilton family clinic when Dr. Evans entered his ward that morning. Two nurses were checking his vitals as the doctor pulled up his latest MRI scans on a tablet. Mark Sterling, CEO of CoPioneer Fab, was present too, watching Gregory with concern. “The swelling around your spine hasn't subsided, Julian,” Dr. Evans said, adjusting the examination light. “The interruption during your surgery at St. Jude caused further inflammation in the surrounding tissue. Attempting to fit the bionic limb now would be too risky, and you won't be able to walk anytime soon.” Gregory gripped the edge of his bedsheet, his jaw tightening. “How long?” “At least several months before we can safely consider another procedure. If we rush it, you risk permanent nerve damage.” Mark moved closer and rested a hand on Gregory's shoulder. “Julian, listen to him. CoPioneer's IPO is four weeks away, and we have nine other trial candidates waiting at Hartley Medical Center

The heavy oak doors of the Hilton mansion stood wide open, revealing an atmosphere that felt distinctly different from the home Gregory remembered.His automated wheelchair hummed softly as it rolled across the polished marble floor of the foyer. Marcus walked a few steps ahead, scanning the wide hallway out of habit. Gregory rested one hand on the armrest, his thumb moving the small joystick that controlled the chair. He no longer needed anyone to push him around. The new custom-built wheelchair gave him a measure of independence he hadn't had before.The manor had changed since his last stay. A newly installed digital art frame hung high on the wall, displaying rotating abstract landscapes that cast a cool glow over the staircase. Yet the modern touches did little to fill the emptiness that had settled over the house. It no longer felt like a battleground, but a massive, quiet fortress.Tristan's departure had changed everything. After the attack on Gregory, Tristan had packed his b