Chapter 1

I am the youngest lead surgeon for aortic dissection in the country.

A lot of people say these hands of mine can snatch lives right back from death.

But four years ago, I couldn't snatch back my own daughter.

That day, my assistant Mia placed an emergency consultation form in front of me. One glance at the family member's name and my fingertips went rigid.

The chart slipped from my hands and hit the floor with a dull thud.

Adrian Blackwood.

That name—I will never forget it as long as I live.

Seven years ago, I was still Clara White. Back then I was pregnant and unmarried when I married the heir to the most powerful mafia family on the East Coast.

Everyone said I was a woman chosen by fate.

Only I knew it was the beginning of my nightmare.

The year Lily turned three, Adrian took her to the countryside estate behind my back. For seven straight days I searched for her like a woman gone mad. I later found out he'd taken my daughter only to keep Sophia Hayes's son Noah company. Sophia, the woman he'd grown up with.

The day I found Lily, her congenital heart condition had flared. Her lips were blue-violet, her little body curled on the lawn, crying out for Daddy.

But Adrian scooped up the boy who'd only scraped his knee, got in the car, and never once looked back.

My daughter died that day.

Mia bent down, picked up the consultation form, and asked me carefully:

"Dr. Hart, are you taking this surgery?"

I pushed the form back to her. My voice was cold, without a single ripple of inflection.

"Initiate resuscitation. Follow standard consultation protocol."

"As for the lead surgeon, assign someone else."

"I'm recusing myself."

Mia froze completely.

She'd been with me for years. No matter how dangerous the aortic dissection, no matter how high-risk the neonatal resuscitation, no matter how hopeless the case no one else dared touch, she had never seen me back down.

She clutched the consultation form, her voice barely above a whisper:

"Dr. Hart, this child is only seven years old."

My fingers faltered, just slightly.

Seven.

If Lily were still alive, she would have been seven this year. But she was frozen forever at three.

I looked up at Mia.

"When have I ever refused an emergency case?"

"Resuscitation proceeds as normal. Consultation proceeds as normal. The treatment plan stays the same."

"Just assign a different lead surgeon."

Mia had no answer for that.

Then, suddenly, a commotion erupted in the hallway outside. Someone was crying. Someone was arguing. Rapid footsteps hammered closer and closer.

Mia's face changed.

"Dr. Hart, the family is forcing their way in."

I didn't move.

Through the half-open door, I heard a man's voice—low, commanding, suffocating.

"I don't care what protocols your hospital has."

"I want the best doctor. Now."

That voice was like a rusted blade, ripping open a wound I thought had scarred over long ago.

Adrian Blackwood.

Four years, and he hadn't changed a bit.

Still accustomed to controlling everything. Still accustomed to ordering everyone around. Still accustomed to grinding rules beneath his heel with sheer power.

Mia looked at me, caught between a rock and a hard place.

"The family insists they won't feel reassured until they've seen you. You have the highest success rate for aortic dissection surgery in the entire hospital."

I looked away. My tone left no room for negotiation.

"Find another doctor."

"Don't make me repeat myself."

Mia didn't dare push further. She silently retreated to the side.

I leaned against the wall, my fingernails slowly digging into my palms.

Four years ago, on the third day of Lily's disappearance, Adrian had been just as "calm".

He'd stood before me in a crisp suit, his expression indifferent.

"They'll find her. I've already sent people."

"You don't need to panic like this."

At the time, I was clutching Lily's little blanket, having cried until my voice gave out entirely. He stood right beside me and didn't even extend a hand.

I found out later that Lily hadn't wandered off at all.

He had taken her.

Sophia had said Noah had been in a terrible mood lately, and the only time he'd settle down was when Lily was with him.

So Adrian took my daughter to the countryside estate.

Without asking me.

Without telling me.

By the time I got to the estate that day, Lily had been off her medication for seven straight days. She was crouched on the lawn, her small face turning purple, both hands clutching her chest, crying:

"Mommy, it hurts."

I begged Adrian like a madwoman to drive her to the hospital.

His car was right there at the gate.

But Sophia screamed that Noah had fallen.

So Adrian picked up the boy who'd only scraped his knee, got in the car, and never once looked back.

I knelt on the gravel road, holding Lily, begging him.

"Adrian, please, save Lily first."

"She really can't hold on."

The sound of that car door slamming shut. I've remembered it for four years.

After that, I divorced him. I left the Blackwood family. I changed my name. I went back to the hospital.

I started from the bottom as the most junior surgeon, practically living inside the operating room. Cases no one else dared take, I took them. Dissection surgeries no one else would touch, I did them.

Again and again I pulled patients back from the edge of death, and again and again I dragged myself out of the abyss.

Until today, everyone knows that Dr. Evelyn Hart's hands can snatch a life back before the aorta ruptures.

But Adrian doesn't know that.

All he knows is that his son needs me now.

And I am his only hope.