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The Coldhearted Surgeon's Billionaire Revenge
img img The Coldhearted Surgeon's Billionaire Revenge img Chapter 2 2
2 Chapters
Chapter 8 8 img
Chapter 9 9 img
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 11 img
Chapter 12 12 img
Chapter 13 13 img
Chapter 14 14 img
Chapter 15 15 img
Chapter 16 16 img
Chapter 17 17 img
Chapter 18 18 img
Chapter 19 19 img
Chapter 20 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 31 img
Chapter 32 32 img
Chapter 33 33 img
Chapter 34 34 img
Chapter 35 35 img
Chapter 36 36 img
Chapter 37 37 img
Chapter 38 38 img
Chapter 39 39 img
Chapter 40 40 img
Chapter 41 41 img
Chapter 42 42 img
Chapter 43 43 img
Chapter 44 44 img
Chapter 45 45 img
Chapter 46 46 img
Chapter 47 47 img
Chapter 48 48 img
Chapter 49 49 img
Chapter 50 50 img
Chapter 51 51 img
Chapter 52 52 img
Chapter 53 53 img
Chapter 54 54 img
Chapter 55 55 img
Chapter 56 56 img
Chapter 57 57 img
Chapter 58 58 img
Chapter 59 59 img
Chapter 60 60 img
Chapter 61 61 img
Chapter 62 62 img
Chapter 63 63 img
Chapter 64 64 img
Chapter 65 65 img
Chapter 66 66 img
Chapter 67 67 img
Chapter 68 68 img
Chapter 69 69 img
Chapter 70 70 img
Chapter 71 71 img
Chapter 72 72 img
Chapter 73 73 img
Chapter 74 74 img
Chapter 75 75 img
Chapter 76 76 img
Chapter 77 77 img
Chapter 78 78 img
Chapter 79 79 img
Chapter 80 80 img
Chapter 81 81 img
Chapter 82 82 img
Chapter 83 83 img
Chapter 84 84 img
Chapter 85 85 img
Chapter 86 86 img
Chapter 87 87 img
Chapter 88 88 img
Chapter 89 89 img
Chapter 90 90 img
Chapter 91 91 img
Chapter 92 92 img
Chapter 93 93 img
Chapter 94 94 img
Chapter 95 95 img
Chapter 96 96 img
Chapter 97 97 img
Chapter 98 98 img
Chapter 99 99 img
Chapter 100 100 img
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Chapter 2 2

The crowd parted. It wasn't out of respect. It was the way a herd of gazelles separates when a predator enters the clearing-or perhaps, when a sick animal wanders into the healthy pack.

Belle didn't wait for Anya to reach the center. She detached herself from Bentley and moved forward, flanked by two women Anya vaguely recognized from prep school. They moved in a V-formation.

Before they could intercept her, a chime echoed through the ballroom. The lights dimmed slightly, and a spotlight found the stage where Alistair Everett, the family patriarch, stood behind a lectern. He was a lion in winter, his silver hair immaculate, his posture ramrod straight despite the tremor in his left hand he tried to hide.

"Thank you all for coming," Alistair's voice boomed, amplified by the speakers. "Tonight, we celebrate not just philanthropy, but the future. A future free from the ravages of neurodegenerative disease. Tonight, Everett Pharma is proud to announce a breakthrough..."

Anya stopped, her gaze fixed on the old man. This was the moment.

But Belle moved faster. She strode to a technician near the stage, whispering urgently. A moment later, the massive screens on either side of Alistair, meant to display corporate logos, flickered to life.

They showed not logos, but copies of emails. Encrypted lab data. Access logs from a secure server in Baltimore.

Anya's name was watermarked across every document.

Belle snatched a microphone from a nearby stand. "I'm so sorry, Alistair," her voice trembled, a masterful performance of distress. "But there's something everyone needs to know."

She turned to the stunned crowd. "For the past year, Everett Pharma has been the victim of corporate espionage. Our most vital research, the key to our Alzheimer's treatment, has been systematically stolen."

Her voice cracked. She pointed a perfectly manicured, blood-red nail directly at Anya.

"And she is the one who did it. Anya Blair."

A collective gasp sucked the air from the room. The whispers turned into a roar of accusations.

Onstage, Alistair Everett swayed. His face, already pale, turned the color of ash. He stared at Anya, his mouth opening but no sound coming out. He saw the family's legacy, their stock price, their entire future evaporating before his eyes.

He clutched his chest, his knuckles white. The tremor in his hand became a violent shake. Then, with a choked gasp, he collapsed behind the lectern.

Chaos erupted. People screamed. Security guards rushed the stage.

Anya stood untouched in the center of the storm. She didn't look at Belle, or the panicked crowd. Her eyes, the eyes of a surgeon, were locked on the fallen man on the stage.

She saw the unilateral facial droop. The fixed gaze. The sudden, catastrophic loss of motor function.

Ischemic stroke. Occlusion of the middle cerebral artery.

She was already moving.

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