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Conquering The Cold Zillionaire Surgeon Heiress Novel Cover

Conquering The Cold Zillionaire Surgeon Heiress

When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle. "Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered. Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week. They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust. They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire. Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog. Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony. They actually believed they had raised her. She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face. "I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation. Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order. "Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group." It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
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Chapter 3

The next afternoon, Alyssa pulled up to the glittering entrance of the Grand Hyatt. She was on a rickety electric scooter that squeaked with every rotation of its wheels, wearing a faded hoodie and jeans.

Her scooter was an island of poverty in a sea of Rolls-Royces and Bentleys.

A doorman in white gloves approached immediately. His smile was professional, but his eyes were full of contempt.

"Ma'am, this is a private entrance. Deliveries use the service alley."

"I'm not making a delivery," Alyssa said calmly. "I have an appointment with Mr. Kelley."

The doorman looked her up and down, then laughed as if she'd told the funniest joke in the world. "Mr. Kelley's meeting? Do you even know who he is? Do you have an appointment?"

"The appointment was made under a specific reference," Alyssa replied, her voice flat. "Go tell him 'The Surgeon' is here."

The doorman's laughter grew louder. He thought she was a cosplayer, or mentally ill. He spoke into his wrist radio, calling for the head of security.

A large, imposing man in a black suit appeared.

"We've got a vagrant trying to crash Mr. Kelley's event," the doorman said. "Says her name is 'The Surgeon'."

The security chief fixed Alyssa with a hard stare. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the premises immediately. If you refuse, we will call the police and have you arrested for trespassing."

Alyssa's brow furrowed in annoyance. She pulled out her phone, about to message Helena.

Just then, a group emerged from the hotel's revolving doors. It was Dalton Kelley's sister, Tansy, leaning on the arm of a stern-looking woman, his housekeeper, Mrs. Pemberton.

Upstairs, in a penthouse suite, Dalton himself was growing impatient. He was surrounded by the world's leading medical experts, and none of them had a viable solution. He kept checking his watch. He was waiting for the mysterious Surgeon.

Down at the entrance, the security chief reached out to grab Alyssa's arm, to physically escort her away.

Alyssa moved. It wasn't a big movement, just a slight shift of her weight. The guard's hand closed on empty air, his momentum carrying him forward into a clumsy stumble.

He flushed with anger, thinking she was mocking him. He squared his shoulders, preparing to use force.

"I'll say it one more time," Alyssa said, her voice dropping a degree, becoming as cold as ice. "I am here for the medical consultation. If Dalton Kelley misses his sister's only chance at survival because of your stupidity, you can't afford the consequences."

Her sudden authority made them hesitate, but her clothes were a powerful argument against her words.

Mrs. Pemberton noticed the commotion. She hated scenes.

"Stay here, Miss Kelley," she said to Tansy. "I'll handle this." She started walking toward the entrance, her steps radiating an air of superiority.

At that exact moment, a pink Maserati screeched to a halt at the curb.

The door flew open and Kandy Valdez stepped out, dripping in designer labels. She was here for an influencer party, hoping to snag a rich husband.

Then she saw Alyssa, surrounded by security. Her face twisted into a mask of shock, followed by pure, malicious glee.

"Oh my god!" Kandy shouted, her voice loud and theatrical, ensuring everyone could hear. "Is that my sister? The one we kicked out? It's only been a day! Are you already begging for money at hotel entrances?"

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