Chapter 4

Within seconds, three attending doctors rushed into the ward. They quickly transferred the crashing patient onto a stretcher, wheeling her toward the emergency theater. Celine ran alongside them, but one of the resident doctors blocked her path.

"Dr. Celine, you are terminated," he said firmly. "You cannot operate."

Celine’s heart shattered, but she could not just walk away. "I am observing," she demanded, pushing her way into the gallery.

The attending team frantically charged the defibrillator, applying the pads to the woman's chest. They yelled for everyone to stand clear, and the electric pulse delivered a sharp thud.

The pulse failed to trigger a rhythm. They tried manually, pumping oxygen into her lungs while trying to stabilize her vitals, but the monitors showed she was fading fast.

Celine watched from the sidelines, her perfectionist mind screaming at their clumsy pacing. Unable to take it anymore, she stepped directly into the room, grabbing the equipment and shouting orders to correct their mistakes.

Under her fierce direction, the team synchronized. After several agonizing attempts, the monitor finally caught a steady, rhythmic bounce. The patient was stable. The heavy equipment was replaced with a standard oxygen mask, and she was wheeled back to the VIP ward.

As the sedation began to fade hours later, Celine stood by the bedside. Suddenly, the elderly woman's hand shot out, her fingers clenching onto Celine's arm with surprising, desperate strength. Her mouth opened and closed as she struggled for breath, her chest heaving.

"I want you to," the patient struggled, her voice a fragile rasp.

"You want what?" Celine asked, leaning forward and paying close attention as she gently patted the woman's hand. "Take it easy."

"Need to talk to you," the woman stuttered, her head falling back onto the pillow, completely exhausted.

"Get strong first, regain your energy, and then we will discuss whatever you have in mind," Celine said smoothly, gently peeling the woman's firm, trembling grip off her arm.

The patient offered a weak, surprisingly knowing smile. There was an undeniable cunning behind her gaze. "Call me Doris," she whispered.

"I beg your pardon?" Celine asked, gently tucking the white blanket around her.

"My name is Doris," the woman repeated, making a weak gesture with her hand.

"Okay, Mrs. Doris," Celine replied. She quickly jotted down notes on the physical charts and reviewed the prescriptions before handing the clipboard to Tessy, who immediately rushed out to the hospital pharmacy to fetch the medication.

"Call me mother," Doris said, a faint, manipulative smile playing on her pale lips.

"Okay, ma'am. I mean, mom," Celine complied, flashing her best, sweetest bedside manner smile. But the moment her back was turned to the bed, Celine rolled her eyes. Rich patients were always so dramatic.

"I need your help, dear," Doris requested, her eyes suddenly turning wide and pleading. "I want you to do something for me. I want you to get married to my son."

"What?!" Celine screamed, the professionalism vanishing from her face as if a bomb had just dropped in the room. "Marry your son? Excellent joke, ma'am, but I don't even know him."

"Please, my dear," Doris pleaded, tears welling in her old eyes. "Although we are not on good terms right now, I know talent when I see it. I see you as the absolute right fit for him. You have the strength my boy needs."

Doris took a deep, rattling breath, her posture shifting into something far more regal. "I did not properly introduce myself before. I am Mrs. Smith. The matriarch of the Smith family."

Celine’s mouth fell wide open, her mind short circuiting. The Smiths? The multi-billionaire aristocrats who practically owned the city's banking and shipping empires? She had performed surgery on a literal queen of high society.

"So, what do you say, Dr. Celine?" Doris asked, her fox eyes narrowing with absolute calculation. "Will you marry my eldest son, Kayden?"

Meanwhile, on the top floor of the glittering Smith Enterprises skyscraper, Darius Smith stood by the floor to ceiling glass windows, staring out at the city skyline. His jaw was clenched tight, the betrayal of his cheating fiancée still making the headlines.

The heavy oak doors to his office burst open, and his personal assistant, Marcus, rushed in, breathing heavily. He held a tablet tightly against his chest.

"Sir," Marcus stammered, swallowing hard as Darius turned his piercing, cold gaze toward him. "I have urgent news from the hospital regarding your mother, Madam Doris."

Darius sneered. He and his mother had been locked in a cold war for months, and his brother Kayden, Darius's fiercest rival, was always whispering in her ear, trying to steal control of the family fortune. "What did she do now? Is she demanding I marry another high society socialite?"

"No, sir," Marcus whispered, trembling.

"Madam Doris has just made a formal proposal to the surgeon who stabilized her heart. She is forcing an arrangement for a Doctor to marry your brother, Kayden."

Darius’s eyes darkened, a lethal stillness settling over him. He stepped away from the window. "Kayden? She wants to hand who to Kayden's faction? Who is the doctor?"

Marcus tapped the tablet, bringing up a profile. "It is Dr. Celine, sir. The prodigy neurosurgeon."

Darius froze. His breath caught in his throat as Celine's face filled the screen.

His mind instantly flashed back twelve months. He remembered the shattered glass, the twisted metal of his sports car, and the blinding pain of his near fatal accident.

But Celine, then just a fearless medical intern pulling a double shift, had stepped in. Her steady hands and her sharp eyes had saved his life.

Ever since that day, Darius had been watching her career from afar, completely captivated by her brilliance and her untouchable aura. She was his obsession, even though he had never approached her directly.

And now, his mother was trying to hand her over to Kayden.

Darius smashed his fist down on the desk, his eyes blazing with a possessive fury.

"Over my dead body," Darius growled, his voice vibrating with absolute malice. "Marcus, prepare the car. If my mother wants a wedding in the Smith family, she is going to get one. But Celine belongs to me."