The Hospital Detour

Vespera slipped into the plush leather passenger seat of the idling sports car. She pulled the heavy door shut, cutting off the sight of the towering Larkin mansion and the dust settling over the discarded briefcase. Soren put the powerful vehicle into gear. He steered smoothly away from the manicured lawns and merged onto the main road heading toward the bustling city center.

Vespera watched the opulent neighborhood blur past the tinted window. "Soren, could you please take me to Dravos Medical Center first? I need to deliver something to a gentleman."

Every single month, Vespera provided a specialized, newly developed medical compound to the mayor's father. Under normal circumstances, she dispatched a trusted courier to drop off the vials. Since she was already out on the road and the hospital sat directly on their route, she figured she could handle the delivery herself. It would also give her a chance to conduct a routine physical check-up on her patient.

Soren checked his rearview mirror, a flicker of confusion crossing his stoic features. He did not press her for details about her medical connections. He offered a crisp nod. "Sure, Ms. Vane. Just try not to take too long. Mr. and Mrs. Vane are still waiting at the estate."

"Got it." Vespera gave a single nod of acknowledgment.

A few minutes later, the sleek sports car glided to a halt in front of the sweeping glass entrance of Dravos Medical Center. Vespera stepped out into the crisp morning air. She bypassed the crowded main lobby, moving with quiet purpose toward the private elevators. She hit the button for the top floor, an exclusive wing strictly reserved for the most elite VIP patients in the city.

Cyrus Kovak sat propped up in his hospital bed, staring blankly at a muted television screen. The moment his gaze shifted and landed on Vespera, his weathered, scarred face stretched into a massive, cheerful grin.

"Hey, Vespera. What brings you here in person today?" Cyrus's booming voice filled the quiet, sterile room.

It had been quite a long time since he had seen her face. She always sent someone else to handle his medication refills.

Vespera offered a faint, reassuring smile as she approached his bedside. "I had some free time today. Besides, you should be near full recovery by now, right? I came to check on your progress myself."

Cyrus's face lit up with genuine delight. "Yeah, I have been feeling full of energy lately. My chest does not ache anymore. Does that mean I can finally go home?"

He leaned forward eagerly, presenting his thick, calloused wrist for her to examine.

Wren stood near the sprawling window, bathed in the morning sunlight. The loyal aide watched the exchange and let out a long, quiet sigh of disbelief. Cyrus had spent his youth commanding troops on blood-soaked front lines. The former general possessed a volcanic temper and bowed to no one. Yet, the moment Vespera walked into his orbit, the terrifying patriarch transformed into the most docile, obedient patient imaginable.

Vespera pressed two slender fingers against Cyrus's pulse point. She focused on the steady, rhythmic beat thrumming under his skin, her eyes tracking the subtle signs of his vitality. After a full minute, she withdrew her hand and nodded in approval.

"Your heart and lungs have recovered remarkably well. Finish this current round of specialized medication. By the end of the month, you will be ready for discharge." Vespera delivered the verdict with calm authority.

Cyrus slapped his knee, beaming with joy. Decades ago, catastrophic shrapnel wounds had shredded his internal organs on the battlefield. As the years wore on, those old, jagged injuries had morphed into fatal chronic complications. Every top doctor in the nation had handed him a death sentence. It was only thanks to the grueling, ten-hour surgery Vespera had performed with her own hands that he still drew breath today. Her custom medicinal formulas were the sole reason his failing organs had learned to function again.

"Vespera, I owe everything to you. If you ever need help in Dravos, come straight to me. I will have your back." Cyrus thumped his chest, making a solemn, unbreakable vow.

Vespera let out a soft chuckle. "I will keep that in mind, Cyrus."

She had snatched countless powerful figures from the jaws of death over the years, many of them ranking among the untouchable elite of Dravos. To keep the greedy Larkin family from weaponizing her prestigious connections, she had buried her true identity deep in the shadows. Once she reclaimed her rightful place and expanded her own empire, the need for hiding would vanish into thin air.

A sudden, violent crash echoed through the heavy oak door. Frantic shouts and the screech of rubber wheels cut through the serene, hushed atmosphere of the VIP wing.

Cyrus perked up like a hunting dog catching a fresh scent. He hated sitting still. "Come on, Vespera, let me walk you out."

Vespera caught the mischievous gleam in his eye and shook her head, letting out a helpless sigh. "Cyrus, your heart is still fragile. You should not get worked up over hallway drama. Try to avoid unnecessary excitement."

Cyrus ignored her medical advice, his grin widening. "It is boring being stuck in this sterile box all day. I heard a big shot was admitted next door. The administration cleared the entire floor this morning just for him. I am curious to see who it is. Maybe I even know him."

Before Vespera could physically block his path, Cyrus clasped his hands behind his back and strolled toward the doorway. Wren sighed heavily and trailed behind his stubborn boss. Vespera followed closely, keeping a sharp eye on the older man's breathing.

The moment they stepped into the pristine corridor, a chaotic scene unfolded. A frantic medical team sprinted past, pushing a rolling hospital bed toward the adjacent intensive care suite. Cyrus squinted at the man convulsing on the mattress, his jovial demeanor vanishing in a heartbeat.

"Hey. Zoran? What happened to you?" Cyrus shouted, his voice cracking with shock.

Zoran Thorne's bloodshot eyes darted toward Cyrus. He clearly recognized his old friend, but a choked, wet gurgle was the only sound he managed to make. His skin bore a sickening, ashen pallor. Each breath he dragged into his lungs sounded like tearing wet paper. He looked seconds away from death.

Vespera stepped closer, her sharp eyes scanning the dying man. "Cyrus, is he a friend of yours?"

Cyrus nodded frantically, his hands balling into fists. "Yeah. We fought side by side on the battlefield. He is my brother-in-arms. Zoran, what is going on with you?"

Cyrus did not wait for an explanation. He charged after the moving gurney, plunging into the chaos of the next room alongside the frantic hospital staff.

Vespera stopped at the threshold. She did not enter the room, but her voice sliced through the noise with chilling precision. "He is likely having an acute heart attack, but it looks incredibly complicated. Even with immediate surgery, the risk of death is overwhelming."

She noted the specific blue tint around Zoran's lips and the erratic bulging of his neck veins. This was not a standard blockage. She suspected a cascade of secondary complications was already destroying his organs. If these doctors waited for blood test results before operating, Zoran would be dead on the table.

Cyrus spun around, sheer panic stripping away his usual commanding presence. "The surgery is risky? Vespera, do you have any way to save him?"

Cyrus knew exactly how terrifyingly skilled she was. In that desperate, nightmare scenario, his very first instinct was to beg the young woman standing in the doorway for a miracle.

Vespera hesitated, her eyes flickering over the chaotic room. She saw how genuinely terrified Cyrus was for his fallen comrade. Zoran's condition was deteriorating by the second. She took a slow, steadying breath and stepped decisively into the fray.

She pushed past a stunned nurse and observed Zoran up close. Her initial suspicion was dead on. Zoran’s situation was vastly more complicated than Cyrus’s had been. She spotted an old surgical scar down his sternum. Zoran had undergone a stent placement in the past. Now, he was suffering a catastrophic secondary infarction, triggering multiple organ distress. Cutting him open in this state was a guaranteed death sentence.

"With his current condition, he is not fit for surgery. I need to use acupuncture first." Vespera spoke with cool, unyielding authority.

She needed to reopen his blocked meridians and restore temporary circulation to his vital organs. Without that crucial stabilization step, multiple fatal clots would form the moment the scalpel touched his skin. She unzipped a small, black leather pouch resting at her waist, revealing a pristine row of gleaming silver needles.

A harsh, demanding voice cracked like a whip from the doorway. "Who is performing acupuncture on a patient? This is a modern medical facility, not some shabby street clinic. Who permitted you to do whatever you want here?"

Vespera and Cyrus turned their heads toward the entrance. A tall man in a crisp white coat marched into the suite, flanked by a nervous entourage of residents and nurses.

Vespera recognized the sharp jawline and the condescending glare instantly. Aris Larkin. The eldest son of Callan and Alysia, and her estranged brother.

She had vaguely remembered Alysia boasting that Aris had recently earned his medical doctorate abroad and secured a senior attending physician role at Dravos Medical Center. She just never anticipated running into him on his very first rotation.

Aris froze in his tracks. His arrogant sneer slipped into genuine shock the moment his eyes locked onto her face. "Vespera?"

For years, Aris had treated her like invisible dirt on his expensive shoes. Finding his disgraced sister standing over a dying VIP with a fistful of needles short-circuited his brain. Since when did she know the first thing about actual medical treatment? It was a laughable, absurd concept to him.

Aris flushed red, his shock curdling into fury. "What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to—"

He snapped his mouth shut, cutting himself off mid-sentence. His parents had called him hours ago, gloating that they had finally purged the fake heiress from the Larkin estate. He assumed she would be begging on the streets by now, vanishing from his life forever. Yet here she stood, causing a scene in his exclusive ward.

Vespera met his furious glare with a faint, mocking smile. "I did not expect to see you here either, Dr. Larkin."

Years ago, the legendary medical pioneer Professor Pax Linden had returned to Dravos to take on a single protégé. Pax had tested the candidates and explicitly chosen Vespera. But Alysia had staged a hysterical meltdown, demanding Vespera step aside and force the professor to take Aris instead. In the Larkins' eyes, Vespera was just a silly high school girl who liked flipping through dusty medical journals. She was a peasant, unworthy of competing with their genius graduate student son.

Vespera had no desire to fight her adopted mother's lunacy back then. She had quietly endorsed Aris for the spot, stepping into the shadows. Aris, blind to her sacrifice, had paraded his success ever since, treating her with unrelenting disdain. She had ignored his existence from that day forward.

Aris recovered from his shock, his expression twisting into a dark scowl. He lowered his voice, his tone dripping with venom. "I know you used to read those traditional medicine books and play around with acupuncture in high school, but this is not the place for your nonsense. Leave, now. Do not interfere with my work."

Aris shoved past her, marching straight to Zoran's bedside. Zoran was already hooked up to a mechanical ventilator. The machine forced air into his lungs, but his chest barely moved. The terrifying purple hue of oxygen starvation crept up his neck, a glaring sign of imminent collapse.

Aris paid zero attention to the dying man's face. He snatched a clipboard from a trembling nurse and began flipping through the printed EKG readouts, his brow furrowing as he studied the erratic lines.

Vespera let out a cold, sharp laugh. "Dr. Larkin, Mr. Thorne's condition is extremely critical. If you keep wasting time staring at papers like this, it will be too late to save him."

She only bothered to speak up because of her deep respect for Cyrus, and to prevent her arrogant brother from catching a massive malpractice suit on his first day.

Aris found her words grating, his ego flaring up hot and fast. He pointed a rigid finger at her face. "You have not even graduated yet. What could you possibly understand? Stop causing trouble here."

Aris turned to the trembling nurse clutching the spare clipboards. "Amelia, please escort this irrelevant person out."