Samuel spoke suddenly, and Assistant Carter immediately realized he was inquiring about the state of the York Family.

“We’ve found out.”

“The York Family has poured vast sums into purchasing land in recent years, but those acquisitions are now mired in disputes. Their projects have stalled, and the funds remain tied up, unavailable for reinvestment.”

“Compounding this, their debts came due this year. On top of that, upstream suppliers and construction companies have breached contracts, halting several ongoing projects. The losses are immense, and they can’t repay their loans. Their finances have hit a deadlock.”

Samuel frowned, his expression dark with concern.

Unless the York Group could secure an influx of capital to restart its projects, recovery seemed beyond reach. No wonder Sophia had made helping the York Group a condition of her willingness to divorce him.

The assistant, noticing Samuel’s inscrutable, brooding gaze, hesitated before cautiously adding, “I’ve heard the Madam’s sister recently started selling off York Group properties to cover debts, but the prices are being maliciously undervalued—30% below market price, sometimes even lower.”

Currently, many in the Northborne business district were circling, waiting for the York Group to collapse so they could swoop in and pick up the pieces.

The assistant had expected Samuel to act on this information, but to his dismay, Samuel remained seated in the back, his demeanor unreadable and his silence chilling. He offered no comment, leaving the assistant uneasy and unsure.

*****

At the hospital, Sophia held Christopher’s test results in her hand, reviewing them meticulously. Satisfied there were no issues, she passed the report back to him.

“All your metrics are excellent,” she said. “These are your test results—make sure to keep them safe.”

Christopher took the report from her hand, a gentle smile playing at his lips as he watched her with a touch of amusement. “It’s hard to believe the girl who used to cry at the drop of a hat has become such a skilled attending physician.”

His fingers brushed hers briefly as he took the document, his eyes scanning it lazily before glancing back at her. “If I recall, you once said you wanted to be like your sister. What made you switch gears and become a doctor?”

Sophia’s smile faltered, freezing for an instant. Years ago, Samuel had been gravely injured—so close to death she still shuddered to think of it. Caught in the throes of a teenage infatuation, she hadn’t even hesitated before ignoring her sister’s objections and enrolling in Northborne College of Medicine.

Recalling the recklessness of youth, Sophia couldn’t suppress the pang of regret. If she hadn’t chosen medicine back then, she might now be pouring all her energy into saving the York Group instead.

“Circumstances,” she replied softly, leaving her statement at those two simple words. Yet, the sorrow and wistfulness in her eyes betrayed emotions far more complex.

Christopher’s smile never faded, but beneath the warmth, his gaze turned faintly impenetrable, shadowed by a depth unspoken.

“Practicing medicine suits you. You’re helping so many people. And York Group will weather the storm—don’t let it keep you up at night.”

As he spoke, he reached out to tousle her hair, the gesture so tender, so achingly familiar, it felt like stepping back in time.

“Tonight,” he continued, as if the thought had just occurred to him, “I’ll introduce you to a few real estate tycoons. They might take an interest in the York Family’s projects.”

At the mention of the York Group, the color drained from Sophia’s face, leaving her visibly deflated.

“Is Dr. York in?”

A voice interrupted from the doorway. The office door had been left slightly ajar, and Elizabeth now stood at the threshold. She seemed startled for a moment by the scene inside, then smoothed her expression into a faintly awkward smile.

“Sorry—the door wasn’t fully closed, so I thought… Am I interrupting?”

With a patient present, Christopher responded as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He withdrew his hand from Sophia’s hair, retrieved his diagnostic report from the desk, and stood. “See you after work,” he said, already walking away before Sophia could reply.

Elizabeth stepped aside, flashing an amiable smile as Christopher passed her. “Is that your boyfriend, Doctor? He’s so handsome.”

Sophia’s expression darkened slightly, but she didn’t bother to correct the misunderstanding. Instead, she fixed her gaze on Elizabeth, noting her hesitance.

“Ms. Zeller, how can I help you?” she asked, her tone polite but restrained.

Elizabeth’s face brightened in recognition. “You’re the one—the one Grandma Yu adopted as her honorary granddaughter yesterday. Samuel’s adopted sister, right?”

Sophia didn’t respond to the comment, her eyes landing instead on the test report in Elizabeth’s hands. Sensing the redirection, Elizabeth quickly held the report out to her, her expression clouded with discomfort.

“Dr. Faith from Obstetrics asked me to bring this up to you,” Elizabeth explained, her voice tinged with unease.

Sophia frowned slightly. Why would Faith saddle her with this? It reeked of trouble.

Taking the report from Elizabeth, Sophia read the diagnostic summary at the top. Her expression shifted, an imperceptible tension darkening her gaze.

Elizabeth wasn’t pregnant.

Sophia’s expression was grave as she leafed through Elizabeth’s medical records.

Elizabeth, noticing the tension, hurriedly asked, “Dr. York, is there something wrong with my health?”

Sophia let out a low, measured hum and lifted her gaze to meet Elizabeth’s. Her voice was steady, yet it carried a weight that pressed down on the room. “Your test results today show no signs of a viable fetus within the uterus.”

She paused, then continued, “Further testing is necessary. A misdiagnosed pregnancy is typically caused by one of two things: an ectopic pregnancy or an ovarian tumor.”

“In either case, a signature is required from a family member to authorize the necessary procedures.”

Elizabeth’s face stiffened, her head bowing as silence stretched between them. After some time, she looked up at Sophia, her voice hesitant, as if the words were caught on the edge of her tongue.

“Can I have my boyfriend sign for me?” she asked.

Sophia’s hand, poised to write the requisition for further testing, faltered briefly. A faint bitterness curled in her stomach, surfacing as the whisper of an ache she wouldn’t acknowledge.

“Yes,” she said with practiced detachment, handing the papers over to Elizabeth. Without another word, she instructed her to proceed with scheduling the tests.

Elizabeth accepted the forms with a small nod, pulling out her phone as she rose from her chair. Her voice was soft, trembling, laden with fear and the bare edge of despair, as though the situation were some terminal ordeal.

“Samuel, can you come to the hospital? Something’s wrong with me,” she said, her tone fragile as she clutched at the words.

Sophia watched Elizabeth retreat from the room, her figure framed in the fluorescent hallway light. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she let out a weary breath. So, this is how it is—men always fall for the ones who play vulnerable.

She allowed herself a faint, self-mocking smile and began tidying up the papers spread across her desk. It was just as well she had a surgery scheduled soon; otherwise, the likelihood of crossing paths with Samuel now loomed entirely too large. The mere thought of her husband bringing his first love into her hospital—her domain—was enough to scorch her chest with a dull, throbbing pain.

Better to keep busy. Sophia headed to the operating room early, throwing herself into the preparations.

Four hours slipped by. When she finally stepped down from the surgical platform, the sky outside had dimmed into shades of twilight. Every muscle in her body bore the imprint of exertion, her limbs trembling faintly from the strain—and from the quiet demands of her early pregnancy.

Her junior colleague, a male intern, noticed her exhaustion and hurried over to steady her, his hands tentative yet deferential. “Dr. York, you’ve worked so hard,” he said, his tone reverent.

Sophia offered him a gentle smile, making no effort to wave off the kind gesture. Instead, she quipped lightly, “Getting older makes everything harder, doesn’t it?”

But the moment the words left her lips, she felt the sharp sting of a gaze cutting through the room. She turned her head—and there he was. Samuel. Standing not far away, his face carved into an expression of cold indifference. Elizabeth hovered beside him, her presence an echo of quiet fragility. The sight stopped Sophia in her tracks.

Carefully, deliberately, she withdrew her hand from the intern’s supportive grasp, her movements steady yet unhurried.

Before she could fully recover her demeanor, her department’s chief bustled up to her, his anxiety hidden behind an ingratiating smile. “Dr. York, you’re finally off the surgical floor! Mr. Yates and Ms. Zeller have been waiting for you for hours.”

“Mr. Yates has immense confidence in your skills and specifically requested you to perform Ms. Zeller’s procedure. Please, take a look at her case as soon as you can.”

The chief leaned in close, lowering his voice until only Sophia could hear him. “Mr. Yates also mentioned that if you take this on, he’ll fund a significant batch of state-of-the-art medical equipment for the hospital.”

“With your help, Sophia, we might just secure the kind of resources that could transform patient care,” he concluded, his tone edged with urgency.

Sophia’s brow furrowed, her inherent calm giving way to a simmering discontent she rarely allowed herself to reveal. The audacity of Samuel—to corner her like this, to encroach on her professional space with an underlying smugness. She had gone out of her way to avoid him, to protect herself from the sting of seeing him and Elizabeth together, yet here he was, shamelessly seeking her expertise.

Didn’t he fear she might crack under the pressure, lose control mid-surgery, and let her bitterness take a fatal turn for his precious first love? The thought burned in her, fierce and fleeting, before she forced it deep down where it couldn’t reach her hands or her judgment.

Sophia exhaled slowly and straightened her spine. A surgeon had to be precise, above all things. But oh, Samuel, how far his gall would stretch.