Chapter 3 The VIP Trauma Bay

The automatic doors of Zenith City Hospital burst open, shattering the quiet of the emergency room.

Luke sprinted inside, holding Zoe's limp body against his chest. Sarah ran right beside him, tears cutting lines through the dust on her ruined wedding dress.

"Help!" Sarah screamed. "Please! My daughter is in shock! Her wrist is broken, she's burning up!"

The waiting room went silent. Rich patients stared at the strange group: a woman in an expensive gown, a man who looked like a homeless beggar, and a pale child who barely seemed to be breathing.

Behind the front desk, a triage nurse barely glanced up from her computer. She popped her gum. "Take a ticket. Fill out Form 4-B. I need ID and proof of insurance."

"She doesn't have time for forms!" Sarah slapped her hands on the counter. "She's losing consciousness! Her pulse is dropping!"

The nurse finally looked up. Her eyes moved over Luke's filthy coat and Sarah's messy state. Her lip curled.

"Look, lady. This is a private hospital. The deposit for emergency care is fifty thousand. Swipe your card first, or take a taxi to the public clinic ten blocks down."

"Fifty thousand...?" Sarah choked. She grabbed her cheap purse, her hands shaking so badly she dropped it. A few copper coins rolled across the floor.

Ignoring the humiliation, she pulled out a black credit card and shoved it across the desk. "Here! Swipe it! Just get a doctor!"

The nurse snatched the card and swiped it. The machine beeped red.

"Declined."

"What? No, that's impossible!" Sarah's face went pale. "That's the Vance family medical card! Victor promised me it would work! Try it again!"

"Declined," the nurse said coldly, tossing the card back. "The Vance family just canceled it and blacklisted your name across the city, honey. Security! Kick these beggars out before they upset the paying patients."

Sarah's knees gave out. She fell to the floor, gripping the edge of the counter. Victor had lied. She had known what the marriage was — her life traded for her family's debt. She had accepted it. But he had promised Zoe would be cared for. The second she said 'I do,' he cut off her daughter's only lifeline.

Luke stood frozen, holding his dying daughter. His dead eyes stared at the declined card.

The lights flickered.

Before Luke could speak, the automatic doors exploded open again.

"OUT OF THE WAY! CLEAR THE HALL!"

Four military medics rushed in, their boots slamming against the tile. They pushed a blood-soaked gurney.

On it lay a man completely unrecognizable through the swelling. His knees were shattered. His ribs were caved in. His arm hung at a sick angle.

It was Victor Vance.

"General Thunder's orders!" the lead medic roared. "Stabilize this prisoner! He has severe internal bleeding! If he dies, you're all accountable!"

Suddenly, the whole ER jumped into action. The lazy nurse shot to her feet. The surgical doors flew open, and a middle-aged man in a white coat sprinted out with a dozen nurses behind him.

This was Dr. Aris, the Chief of Surgery.

"My god, it's Young Master Vance!" Dr. Aris yelled, recognizing the billionaire heir. "Clear Trauma Bay One! Get the VIP suite ready! Bring the blood reserves! Move!"

The military medics shoved the gurney forward. One of them knocked into Luke's shoulder.

"Get out of the way, civilian!" the medic barked.

Luke didn't move. He stood like a rock, shielding Zoe in his arms. He looked at Dr. Aris.

"My daughter was here first," Luke said. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the noise like a blade. "She's in shock. She needs a doctor. Now."

Dr. Aris stopped. He looked at Luke's muddy boots. He looked at Sarah crying on the floor surrounded by copper coins. He scoffed.

"Are you blind?!" Dr. Aris roared, pointing at the bloody gurney. "That's the Vance heir! He's worth billions! Your brat's broken wrist can wait in the alley. Security, throw these peasants out so I can work!"

Sarah broke down completely, burying her face in her hands. It was over. Even half-dead, Victor was still taking everything.

Two massive security guards unclipped their batons and marched toward Luke. "Alright, buddy. You heard the Chief. Take the kid and leave."

Luke looked at the guards. Then he looked at Dr. Aris fussing over Victor.

"You're refusing to treat a dying child... to save the garbage that put her here?" Luke asked, his voice flat.

"I decide who lives and dies in this hospital!" Dr. Aris spat, his face red. "And I say you're garbage! Get them out!"

The first guard grabbed Luke's shoulder.

Crack.

Nobody saw Luke move.

The sound of snapping bone echoed like a gunshot. The guard was suddenly on the floor, his arm twisted backward, screaming.

The whole ER froze. Nurses gasped.

Dr. Aris stumbled back, eyes wide. "You... you dare assault my staff?! Call the police! Call the SWAT team!"

Luke ignored him. He shifted Zoe gently in his left arm, making sure her head rested against his chest. With his right hand, he pulled out his shattered phone.

He typed a text to a classified international number.

[I'm at Zenith Hospital. The Chief of Surgery just told my daughter to die in an alley. You have three minutes to fix this, or I'm burning this building down.]

He hit send.

Dr. Aris laughed, a nervous, mocking sound. "Texting your thug friends? Do you know who owns this hospital?! The Frost Group! The richest syndicate in the Empire! The Mayor wouldn't dare cause trouble here!"

Luke put his phone away. He looked at the digital clock on the wall.

"Two minutes and fifty seconds," he whispered.