Addicted To The Ruthless Surgeon Heiress

The cabin of the SUV was unnervingly quiet. The storm outside was muffled to a dull hum, leaving only the rapid swish of the wipers and the deep purr of the V8 engine.

Evie leaned back against the seat. Her wet clothes seeped into the premium leather, leaving dark, expanding water stains.

Arthur glanced in the rearview mirror, wincing at the damage to his boss's prized interior. He kept his mouth shut. He reached into the center console and pulled out a folded Hermès cashmere blanket. He handed it to her without a word.

Evie didn't look at him. She just raised her injured hand and took the blanket. The blood on her fingertip had smeared onto the soft fabric.

Arthur saw the blood. His respect for her ticked up a notch. A surgeon who didn't care about a little blood on their hands. It fit the profile.

The radio crackled. "The National Weather Service has issued a severe flood warning. The hurricane center is shifting toward Long Island."

Arthur frowned, gripping the steering wheel tighter. He pressed the accelerator, trying to beat the potential road closures on the bridge ahead.

"Get off the highway," Evie said. Her voice was low, cutting through the hum of the engine like a blade.

Arthur blinked, confused. "If I do that, we'll add two hours to the trip. We have to go this way."

Evie didn't turn her head. She stared at the navigation screen. "Three miles ahead, the elevation drops. The drainage system will fail in five minutes. The road will be a river."

Arthur stared at her. "That's ridiculous. The weather service didn't say anything about that."

He was a man who followed orders. His boss wanted the surgeon at the estate ASAP. He wasn't going to risk a detour based on a hunch. He kept his foot on the gas.

Evie let out a soft scoff. She pulled the cashmere blanket tighter around her shoulders and closed her eyes.

Three minutes later, the brake lights of the cars ahead of them flared red. Traffic ground to a halt. A line of red lights stretched into the rain, immovable.

Arthur rolled down his window an inch, leaning out into the storm. The wind howled, carrying the panicked shouts of drivers ahead. The road had collapsed. Cars were being swept into the flood channel.

Arthur yanked his head back inside, his face pale. He turned to look at the girl in the passenger seat. She hadn't moved. Her eyes were still closed. Sweat beaded on his forehead, mixing with the rain.

He didn't hesitate again. He cranked the wheel hard, jumping the curb and crossing the double yellow line. He forced the SUV onto the exit ramp.

Just as the tires hit the solid ground of the ramp, a deafening roar erupted behind them. A wall of mud and debris slammed down onto the highway, wiping out the spot where they would have been.

Arthur's hands were shaking on the wheel. He swallowed hard, his belief in the girl beside him now absolute.

Evie opened her eyes. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a plain black flip phone. She flipped it open, her thumb moving rapidly over the keypad. She wasn't making a call; she was navigating a series of obscure system menus with practiced ease.

The GPS screen on the dashboard flickered for a fraction of a second, then returned to normal, now showing their route on a blank gray background. Arthur didn't notice. The car's internal tracking system was now blind.

Miles away, back at the trailer park, the wind howled like a demon. A rusted billboard, torn from its moorings, spun through the air. It slammed down onto the roof of Marge's trailer with the force of a guillotine.

The rotting support beams gave way with a sickening crack. The entire metal structure folded in on itself, crushing everything inside. Marge's screams were cut short by the grinding metal.

Back at the gas station, Silas Thorne shivered violently, his phone displaying zero signal bars. He murmured, "Didn't that man come to pick me up to see the old lady? How did he leave? Did he find out that I was a fraud?"

The SUV sped down the dark country road. Arthur tapped his Bluetooth earpiece. "Mr. Barron," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I have the Surgeon. We're heading to the Hamptons."