Chapter 2

Liam looked at the desperate face of David Chen, and for a moment, the cold fortress he had built around himself wavered. He saw the genuine anguish of a father, a stark contrast to the entitled demands of the Davis family. But the memory of bleeding out on a cold floor, watched by a hateful wife, was a fresh and brutal wound. Self-preservation was a lesson learned in blood.

"I' m sorry," Liam said, his voice still firm, though a sliver of his old self, the healer, fought against the words. "I can' t help you. Or your daughter."

He couldn' t risk it. He couldn' t trust anyone. The trauma was too raw.

"But... they said you were the only one," David Chen stammered, his hope visibly deflating. "Please, just look at her case. Her name is Sarah Chen..."

"I know who she is," Liam cut in, more harshly than he intended. "My answer is final."

He brushed past the stunned father, ignoring the man' s broken plea. He needed to get away, to solidify his new reality where his life, his blood, belonged only to him.

A week later, the city' s philanthropic elite gathered for the annual Medical Research Foundation Gala. It was a glittering affair of tuxedos and gowns, a marketplace of charity and influence. Liam attended out of professional obligation, intending to remain a ghost in the crowd.

But ghosts are never left in peace.

He saw them across the ballroom. Chloe Davis, seated in her state-of-the-art wheelchair, was the center of a sympathetic circle. And standing possessively behind her, a hand on her shoulder, was Jake Miller.

Jake was exactly as Liam remembered: handsome in a rugged, sun-kissed way, with an easy confidence that bordered on arrogance. He was an extreme sports celebrity, his fame built on daredevil stunts and a carefully crafted public image. He was playing the part of the devoted lover perfectly, leaning down to whisper in Chloe' s ear, making her laugh. It was a performance, and the audience was eating it up.

Liam felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. He turned to leave, but he wasn' t fast enough.

"Liam! So good to see you."

It was Mrs. Davis. She had intercepted him near the bar, her smile tight and strained. Her eyes darted towards her daughter.

"She still talks about you, you know," Mrs. Davis said in a low, worried voice. "And about Jake."

She sighed, a tremor of real fear in her voice. "He' s filled her head with such nonsense. He tells her he' s found some experimental European treatment, that he' ll have her walking in a month. She believes him, Liam. She believes every word. I' m so afraid of what will happen when she' s disappointed."

Liam took a sip of his water, his expression unreadable. "That is no longer my concern, Mrs. Davis."

"But it could be!" she pressed. "Just say you' ll reconsider. Give her some hope that' s real!"

Before Liam could answer, the subject of their conversation made his grand entrance.

"Babe, look who' s here," Jake Miller said, his voice loud enough for everyone nearby to hear as he pushed Chloe' s wheelchair towards them. "The miracle worker who gave up."

Chloe glared at Liam, her hatred a palpable force. "What are you doing here? Come to gloat?"

"I' m attending a gala, Miss Davis. Just like you," Liam replied evenly.

Jake smirked, draping his arm around Chloe' s shoulders. "Don' t you worry, Chloe. You don' t need him. I told you, I' ve got this. The best specialists in Zurich are on standby. They' ve seen my data, and they' re confident. Your recovery will be my greatest adventure yet."

He kissed the top of her head, a public display of affection that made Liam' s skin crawl.

A few renowned neurosurgeons standing nearby exchanged skeptical glances. One of them, Dr. Evans, a senior physician Liam respected, subtly shook his head.

Liam couldn' t resist. A small, cold smile touched his lips. "An adventure? Curing a T4 spinal cord transection? That' s a bold way to frame it. Most would call it an impossibility."

Jake' s smile tightened. He clearly didn' t understand the technical term, but he caught the mocking tone. "What' s that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Liam said slowly, enjoying this, "that unless your 'specialists' have learned to regenerate the central nervous system, a feat that would win them every Nobel Prize for the next century, you' re selling fantasies."

"Are you calling me a liar?" Jake bristled, his celebrity charm vanishing to reveal a thuggish temper.

"I' m stating a medical fact," Liam replied calmly.

Chloe, incensed on Jake' s behalf, wheeled herself forward aggressively. "You' re just bitter because I chose him over you! You' re a pathetic, jealous fraud!"

Her voice was rising, drawing more attention. Liam had no desire for a public scene. He had made his point.

"Think whatever you like," he said, turning to walk away. "This conversation is over."

He wanted to disengage, to retreat back into his self-imposed isolation. But Jake Miller wouldn' t let him.

"Not so fast," Jake called out, his voice booming across the now-quiet section of the ballroom. All eyes were on them. Jake thrived on this. He stepped forward, a showman playing to his crowd.

"You think I' m selling fantasies? You think it' s impossible?" he challenged, a wide, predatory grin on his face. "Then let' s make it interesting."

He pointed a finger at Liam, then gestured grandly to Chloe.

"I' ll make a wager with you, Dr. Hayes. A public bet. I say I can have Chloe walking on her own two feet within one month. You say it' s impossible. Let' s put something real on the line. Say... a million dollars?"

A collective gasp went through the onlookers. A public, high-stakes medical wager. It was scandalous. It was thrilling.

Liam stopped. He was cornered. Jake had expertly turned this into a public spectacle, a challenge to his professional reputation. Refusing would make him look like a coward who was afraid to back up his own diagnosis. Accepting would drag him right back into the center of the Davis family drama.

Jake' s grin widened. He had him trapped.

Or so he thought.