Chapter 3: The Return of the Medical Goddess
The surgical theater of the Valentine Medical Institute in Geneva was a cathedral of glass and cold, sterile steel. In the center of the room, illuminated by the harsh white glow of the surgical lamps, Dr. Rose Valentine moved with the precision of a master pianist.
She wasn't the trembling girl who had begged for a crumb of affection five years ago. This woman was a masterpiece of professional authority.
"Scalpel," Rose commanded. Her voice was no longer a soft, hesitant whisper; it was a cool, melodic blade that resonated through the silent room.
Behind the observation glass, world-renowned surgeons watched in awe. They didn't see the "scorned wife" of Alexander Blackwood. They saw the 'Miracle Surgeon,' the woman who had patented three life-saving technologies before the age of twenty-seven and who was whispered to be the secret heiress of the Valentine Empire.
As she finished the final stitch on a complex neuro-procedure, Rose stepped away, stripping off her latex gloves. She walked into the scrub room and splashed cold water on her face. The reflection in the mirror was a stranger to the woman who had left five years ago. Her eyes were sharper, her cheekbones more defined, and her aura radiated a quiet, dangerous power.
"Mommy!"
The door to the private lounge hissed open. Rose's cold expression melted instantly into warmth as two small shadows burst into the room.
Miles Valentine walked in first. At five years old, he already possessed a stoic dignity that was hauntingly familiar. He wore a tailored charcoal suit and held a sleek, custom-made tablet. His dark eyes carbon copies of the man Rose had tried to forget were filled with the logic of a genius. Beside him, Mila beamed, her dark curls bouncing. She was a vision in a white tweed designer dress, holding her mother's hand with a protective grip.
"The flight plan is filed," Miles said, his small fingers flying across the screen. "Grandfather says the 'Special Case' in City A is urgent. The patient is the matriarch of the Blackwood family. Chronic heart failure. No one else will touch the surgery."
Rose's heart skipped a beat at the mention of 'City A.' She had avoided that place for half a decade. But as a doctor, she couldn't turn away a dying woman especially the only Blackwood who had ever shown her a shred of kindness.
"Pack the portable lab," Rose said, her voice dropping an octave. "We are going. But Miles, Mila... the rules are strict. You stay in the VIP suite. No one sees your faces. Do you understand?"
"We know, Mommy," Mila whispered. "The Bad Man is there."
City A International Airport: VIP Terminal
A fleet of ten black SUVs waited on the tarmac, surrounded by private security. When the door of the Valentine private jet opened, a hush fell over the ground crew.
Rose stepped out. She wore a tailored, crimson power suit that hugged her figure with professional elegance. Large designer sunglasses shielded her eyes, and her hair flowed in rich, dark waves over her shoulders. She looked like a goddess descending from Olympus.
The twins were already being whisked away into a separate, heavily tinted vehicle by Marcus, her head of security. To the world, Dr. Valentine was arriving alone.
"Dr. Valentine! Over here!"
A group of hospital directors and city officials were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, sweating despite the breeze. They had no idea this 'Medical Goddess' was the same 'pitiful wife' they had once gossiped about.
"The patient is at the Central Hospital," the Director panted. "The Blackwood family is... frantic. Mr. Blackwood has threatened to ruin us if she isn't saved."
Rose paused at the car door, her lip curling into a mocking smirk. "Threats? How typical of him. Tell Mr. Blackwood that if he wants his grandmother to live, he will stay out of my way. I am the one with the power here, not him."
The City A Central Hospital: VIP Wing
The atmosphere in the hospital was suffocating. Bodyguards in black suits lined the hallways. In the center of the waiting room stood Victoria Blackwood, looking older but no less arrogant. Beside her was Evelyn Vance, clutching a designer tissue, pretending to cry.
The elevator doors opened with a sharp ding.
The sound of rhythmic, commanding heel clicks echoed down the hall. Victoria stood up, ready to unleash her fury on the "late" doctor. "Finally! Do you have any idea how long ..."
Victoria's voice died in her throat. Her face turned a ghostly, ashen grey.
Rose walked past her without a glance, her scent a mix of rare jasmine and expensive coldness filling the hallway.
"You..." Victoria gasped, clutching her pearls. "Rose? It... it can't be."
Evelyn's fake tears dried instantly. "Rose Woods? The 'Butterfly' surgeon... is her?"
Rose stopped ten feet away. She turned slowly, removing her sunglasses. Her emerald eyes were like frozen lakes.
"My name," Rose said, her voice smooth and dangerous, "is Dr. Rose Valentine. And if you want the woman inside that room to live, you will stay out of my sight. My patience for the Blackwood family ended five years ago."
"How dare you!" Victoria hissed. "You're just a..."
"I am the only person on this planet who can keep your mother-in-law's heart beating," Rose interrupted. "Choose your next words carefully, Victoria. They might be the last ones you say in this hospital."
Before Victoria could scream, the heavy double doors at the end of the hall swung open.
Alexander Blackwood strode in.
He looked exactly the same, yet different. His suit was more expensive, his face more rugged, his eyes darker and filled with a permanent, hollow exhaustion. He looked like a king who had realized his crown was made of lead.
He stopped dead when he saw the woman in the crimson suit.
The file in his hand slipped, the papers fluttering to the floor. The world around him slowed down. There was only her.
"Rose?"
His voice was a low, broken growl. It was filled with a mix of shock, disbelief, and a sudden, violent surge of hope that he couldn't suppress.
Rose looked at him. She didn't flinch. She didn't blush. She didn't show a single spark of the girl who used to wait up until 3:00 AM with a warm meal for him.
"Mr. Blackwood," she said, her tone as professional as if she were talking to a stranger. "You're blocking the path to the sterile zone. Move."
Alexander took a step toward her, his hand reaching out instinctively, his fingers trembling. "Rose... where have you been? I searched everywhere. I thought you... I thought..."
"You thought I was a shadow that vanished when you turned out the lights," Rose said, her voice dripping with icy disdain. She stepped closer, her face inches from his. The scent of her jasmine perfume hit him like a physical blow to the heart. "I wasn't a shadow, Alexander. I was the sun. You were just too blind to see it."
"Rose, please...."
"Doctor," she corrected him, her eyes flashing with a lethal light. "To you, I am Dr. Valentine. Nothing more. Nothing less."
Just then, Marcus, her head of security, stepped between them. "The patient is prepped, Doctor. The children are secure in the private lounge."
Alexander's head snapped toward Marcus. "Children? What children?"
Rose didn't blink. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but her face remained a mask of stone. "My staff, Mr. Blackwood. Something you clearly have no business questioning. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a life to save."
She turned her back on him the ultimate gesture of dismissal and walked into the sterile zone. The heavy double doors locked with a definitive click.
Alexander stood in the hallway, his breathing ragged. He looked at the closed doors, his mind racing. Children? The word echoed in his skull. The children are secure.
He looked at his assistant, Peter, who was already scrambling to pick up the dropped papers. "Peter! I want a full background check on Dr. Rose Valentine. Every person she has spoken to, every country she has visited, and every guest on her private jet."
Alexander's eyes were bloodshot with a sudden, dark obsession. He looked at the surgical doors as if he could burn a hole through them with his gaze.
"And Peter," Alexander added, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Find out who is in that private lounge. I want to know exactly what she is hiding."
Behind the closed doors, Rose leaned against the wall for a single second, closing her eyes to steady her breathing. She could still feel the heat of his gaze. She could still hear the desperation in his voice.
It's too late for regret, Alexander, she thought, pushing off the wall and walking toward the operating table. You wanted a divorce. Now you'll get the woman you created.
In the VIP lounge three floors up, Miles sat in front of a bank of security monitors. He watched his father's breakdown through a hacked camera feed, his small face unreadable.
"Target identified," Miles whispered, his fingers dancing across a keyboard as he began to scramble the hospital's visitor logs. "But you're not going to find us that easily, 'Dad'."