From Ordinary to Unstoppable

Chapter 5

Selene Veylin’s face drained of color.

“What did you just say?” Her voice dropped to a razor-thin calm. “Where is Dr. Brackett? What’s happening to my sister?”

The emergency doors slid open again.

Dr. Brackett stepped out, his white coat stained, his expression heavy. Beside him stood Dr. Harris, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Veylin,” Brackett said hoarsely. “Ms. Lysara’s condition has deteriorated. We’ve done everything within our capacity.”

Harris stepped forward quickly, panic bleeding into irritation. “The initial response was stable. Her vitals even improved but then her breathing collapsed without warning. This isn’t incompetence, Ms. Veylin. It’s an impossible case.”

He didn’t finish his sentence.

Smack.

The sound cracked through the corridor like a gunshot.

Harris staggered back, one hand flying to his cheek, eyes wide with disbelief.

“You idiot,” Selene hissed, her body trembling with fury. “Didn’t you just boast that she was safe? Didn’t you stand there and promise me results?”

Harris opened his mouth then shut it. The humiliation burned hotter than the pain.

Selene turned slowly to Dr. Brackett, her gaze icy and merciless.

“I will ask you one final time,” she said. “Is there anyone else in this hospital who can save my sister?”

The air grew suffocating.

“If anything happens to her,” Selene continued softly, “you and your incompetent son will disappear from this city.”

Brackett’s legs nearly gave out.

“There is…” he stammered. “There is one person.”

Selene’s eyes snapped to him. “Who.”

“Dr. Evan Calder.”

For a heartbeat, silence reigned.

Then Selene’s eyes lit up, sharp and decisive. “Of course. Dr. Calder. Get him here. Now. If he can save Lysara, I’ll take responsibility for everything.”

Before Brackett could move, Harris let out a bitter laugh.

“Dr. Calder?” he scoffed. “He’s in my department. I know exactly what he can do and this is beyond him.”

Selene turned her head slowly.

The temperature in the hallway seemed to drop.

“Say another word,” she said coldly, “and I’ll have your tongue removed before you leave this floor.”

Harris froze. His face turned ashen.

In that instant, he knew it was over.

His reputation. His future. All of it is ruined.

And yet, even as fear crushed his chest, one thought burned with poisonous jealousy:

He would rather lose everything… than watch Evan Calder succeed.

Just then, Evan Calder arrived on the scene. His presence alone seemed to shift the energy in the hallway, calm, controlled, and undeniably commanding.

He glanced at Harris and Brackett, his gaze cool and unwavering.

“There’s no need to summon me,” he said simply. “Saving lives is my job.”

Then, turning to Selene, he added, voice firm but measured, “As the patient’s sister, you should focus on helping her rather than venting anger. Come with me, I’ll need your assistance.”

Selene’s cheeks flushed, a mixture of shock and something she hadn’t expected. This mere doctor—someone she had initially underestimated had spoken to her with the kind of authority that brooked no argument.

Her assistant, Maris Vale, immediately stepped forward, disapproval written across her face.

“Dr. Calder, please show more respect to Ms. Veylin!” she interjected sharply.

Selene, already striding toward the emergency room, did not turn back. Her voice was steady, resolute.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I prioritize what’s right over who’s important. If that offends you, feel free to find another doctor.”

Maris sputtered, anger and disbelief mingling on her face, but Selene raised a hand to stop her.

As Evan walked ahead, Selene found herself watching his retreating figure, and to her surprise, the blunt words that had once seemed insolent now left her strangely unperturbed. More than that they sparked a flicker of admiration.

Inside the emergency room, Evan moved with precision. His gloves snapped into place over his hands, his eyes scanning monitors and vitals with a surgeon’s trained calm.

The little girl lay on the operating table, deathly pale, her skin tinged with blue, her chest barely rising with each shallow breath.

Evan’s expression remained unreadable. Every movement he made from checking her airway to adjusting the IV lines was deliberate, exact, and confident.

Time seemed to slow in the room. Every second mattered. Every decision could mean life or death.

The colleague and the deputy chief lingered at the edge of the operating room, arms crossed, eyes sharp with thinly veiled contempt. In their minds, the verdict was already sealed. This case was dead on arrival.

Let him embarrass himself, they thought.

If the girl died, all responsibility would fall neatly onto Evan’s shoulders for interfering.

“Dr. Calder,” the colleague sneered at last, breaking the tense silence, “we’ve exhausted every viable option. What exactly do you think you can do that we couldn’t?”

Evan didn’t even look at him.

“Nurse,” he said calmly, holding out his hand. “Scalpel.”

The steel flashed under the operating lights.

Before anyone could process his intent, Evan made a precise incision along the girl’s wrist.

Blood flowed.

A sharp gasp rippled through the room.

“What are you doing?!” the deputy chief shouted, panic bleeding into his voice. “Dr. Calder, the patient is already critical! You can’t just—this is reckless!”

Selene stiffened.

Her sister’s arm lay exposed, crimson staining the sterile white sheets. For the first time since arriving at the hospital, fear truly seized her chest. Her fingers curled so tightly at her side that her nails bit into her palm.

Is he… losing control?

Evan didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t hurry either.

“I’m not harming her,” he said evenly. “I’m saving her.”

His eyes never left the patient as he continued, tone clinical, unshaken.

“The toxin entered through the skin. At first, it could’ve been neutralized with medication.” A pause. “But the delay allowed it to circulate into her bloodstream.”

The colleague scoffed. “So you’re admitting the situation is irreversible?”

“No,” Evan replied. “I’m saying this is the only window left.”

He adjusted the angle of the incision, controlled the flow, his hands steady to the point of frightening.

“Bloodletting,” he said, “isn’t medieval nonsense when used correctly. I’m forcing the poisoned blood out before it reaches her heart again.”

The room fell silent.

Monitors beeped erratically, the sound suddenly deafening.

Selene stared at Evan really stared at him this time. There was no panic in his eyes. No desperation. Just cold calculation and absolute confidence, as if the outcome had already been decided in his mind.

“Prepare chelation agents,” Evan ordered. “Now. And get me fresh plasma.”

A nurse hesitated, glancing at the deputy chief.

“That’s absurd!” Dr. Lin snapped, his voice sharp with wounded pride. “If Ms. Iris had been poisoned, I would’ve detected it immediately. You’re just making excuses for reckless treatment!”

Before Evan could respond, a strangled gasp cut through the room.

“W–wait,” an observing doctor whispered, eyes locked on the suction tube. “That blood—look at it.”

Everyone turned.

The blood flowing from Iris’s wrist was no longer red.

It darkened visibly, thick and murky, like ink spreading through water.

“It’s turning black…” the doctor breathed. “That’s classic toxin reaction.”

The room froze.

The colleague’s face drained of color, then flushed violently, as if someone had slapped him twice in quick succession. His mouth opened, but no words came out. In front of everyone—senior doctors, nurses, and the woman he’d been trying to impress—his authority collapsed.

Selene sucked in a sharp breath, her heart hammering.

Poison.

Evan didn’t react to the shock around him. He adjusted the flow with surgical precision, eyes calm, movements exact.

The deputy chief frowned deeply, tension etching lines into his face. “Dr. Calder,” he said slowly, “even if you’re right—and even if you can drain the toxin—she’s a child. If you keep this up, she’ll die from blood loss before the poison kills her.”

Evan nodded once. “That’s correct.”

The deputy chief stiffened. “Then why are you still—”

“Because,” Evan cut in evenly, “we’re not only draining.”

He turned his head slightly. “Prepare a transfusion. Match her blood type. We’ll replace what we remove—simultaneously.”

The room erupted.

“That’s impossible!”

“You can’t synchronize detox and transfusion like that!”

“The margin for error is zero!”

The deputy chief shook his head hard. “This isn’t a textbook fantasy. Even with perfect timing, the shock alone could—”

“It’s not a fantasy,” Evan said, finally looking up.

His gaze was steady. Grounded. Certain.

“I’ve done it before.”

Silence slammed into the room.

Selene stared at him, disbelief and hope crashing together in her chest. “Before…?” she echoed softly.

Evan met her eyes for a brief second. “If we wait any longer, she won’t make it. If we act now, she has a chance.”

Evan had already turned away from the monitors.

He faced Ms. Selene directly and lifted his chin toward her arm. “Roll up your sleeve.”

The room stiffened.

She didn’t hesitate.

Without a word, she pushed back the black silk at her wrist, revealing pale skin and a faint blue vein pulsing beneath it.

Her jaw was set, eyes steady despite the fear tightening her chest. 

Evan’s voice was calm, almost disarmingly so. “You’re sisters. I’ve confirmed your blood types match. You’ll be donating blood to her—now.” 

The deputy chief’s face changed instantly. “Dr. Calder have you lost your mind?” he barked. “Direct transfusion is forbidden! Even with compatible blood, you’ll spike her blood pressure. If that happens, no one in this room can save her!” 

Another senior doctor stepped forward anxiously. “This is reckless. At the very least, draw Ms. Selene’s blood first and run it through proper transfusion equipment. That’s the only safe protocol.”

By the time they finished speaking, it was already too late. 

The IV line was connected. 

Clear tubing linked the woman’s wrist to her sister’s fragile arm—life flowing directly from one to the other. 

Evan didn’t even look back at them.

“Under normal circumstances,” he said evenly, adjusting the flow with precise fingers, “you’d be absolutely right.” 

He glanced at the monitor. The heart rate flickered, weak, unstable. 

“But this isn’t normal.” 

Ms. Selene felt a slight pull at her wrist, warm and strange. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t move. 

“We’re racing against poison that’s already entered her bloodstream,” Evan continued. “Every extra minute spent filtering blood is another minute the toxin circulates. She doesn’t have that time.” 

The colleague scoffed nervously. “You’re gambling with two lives now.” 

Evan finally looked at him. 

The air shifted. 

“This isn’t a gamble,” he said quietly. “It’s a controlled exchange. I’m regulating pressure, volume, and flow in real time. Her body is rejecting stored blood—but it won’t reject her sister’s.”

Dr. Lin seized the opening like a starving man spotting blood. 

“Nice speech,” he sneered. “But if you actually go through with this, you’ll be committing medical malpractice in real time. You won’t just kill Ms. Iris—you’ll endanger Ms. Selene as well.”

The room tensed. 

Evan didn’t look up from his work.

Instead, his voice dropped—cold, sharp, final. “You’ve been interfering since the moment I stepped in. If you’re so confident in your expertise, take over.” 

Dr. Lin’s jaw tightened. His pride screamed, but his hands didn’t move.

“Fine,” he spat after a beat. “Since you’re so brilliant, let’s see how you pull this miracle off.” 

Evan didn’t answer. 

In the next instant, he moved.

His fingers struck, fast, precise, pressing several points along Iris’s wrist, forearm, and collarbone. The motion was so fluid it barely registered as deliberate, more like instinct honed into muscle memory. 

“What is he—” someone began. 

Then the impossible happened. 

The IV line shifted. 

Fresh blood from Selene’s arm began flowing smoothly, perfectly into Iris’s body. 

At the same time, dark, poisoned blood drained steadily from Iris’s other wrist, the flow controlled, balanced, exact. 

Not a drop wasted.  

Not a beat off. 

Gasps filled the room. 

Color crept back into Iris’s cheeks, faint at first, then unmistakable. Her lips pinked. Her chest rose, once, twice—stronger than before.

The monitors answered with a steady rhythm. 

Beep.

Beep.

Beep. 

A nurse clutched the counter. “Her vitals… they’re stabilizing.” 

Another doctor whispered, “This makes no sense…” 

Dr. Lin staggered back half a step, eyes wide, face drained of blood.  

“That’s—no—that’s not possible.”

The deputy chief stared at Evan as if seeing a stranger wearing his son’s face. His voice came out hoarse. 

“Dr. Calder… w‑was that some kind of pressure‑point technique?”

The room leaned in. 

“An ancient circulation control method?” the deputy chief pressed. “Something from traditional medicine?”