Conquering The Cold Zillionaire Surgeon Heiress

"Dalton! Over here!" Tansy shouted, jumping to her feet and waving frantically.

Dalton Kelley's gaze found his sister, and then settled on the person beside her. A girl in a cheap, faded hoodie, slumped in a chair.

He frowned. This was 'The Surgeon'? She looked like a runaway teenager.

As Dalton started to walk toward them, his housekeeper, Mrs. Pemberton, made a catastrophic mistake. Only moments ago, she had quietly conceded her own shallowness and recognized that Miss Clarke's skill was genuine. But now,

She saw the frown on Dalton's face and misinterpreted it. She assumed he shared her old opinion—that this girl's appearance was an embarrassment, that she was unworthy of speaking directly to Mr. Kelley.

Trying to redeem herself in her employer's eyes, she stepped in front of Alyssa before Dalton could reach them.

"Miss Clarke," she said, her voice dripping with condescending professionalism. "Mr. Kelley is here. Regarding your compensation, please leave your bank account details. We will wire a one-million-dollar gratuity for your assistance. You may leave now."

Her words were a dismissal, an act of charity bestowed upon a beggar.

Tansy was horrified. "Mrs. Pemberton, what are you saying? She's the doctor my brother hired!"

"Miss Tansy, you are too naive," Mrs. Pemberton said confidently. "Perhaps she was lucky enough to have some field medicine skills, but that does not qualify her to treat a Kelley. Your brother will arrange for a team of proper experts for your continued care."

Alyssa had been silent. Now, she slowly rose to her feet. The last shred of patience in her eyes had vanished.

She had come here to test Dalton Kelley. His housekeeper had just provided the answer.

"I've changed my mind," Alyssa said, her voice like arctic air. "I'm no longer accepting the Kelley contract."

She turned to leave.

Enraged by this insolence, Mrs. Pemberton gave a subtle nod to two bodyguards. "Stop her! She might know more about Miss Tansy's condition. We need to question her!"

She thought Alyssa was bluffing, trying to drive up her price.

Two massive bodyguards, both well over six feet tall, moved to block Alyssa's path.

From a distance, Dalton saw what was happening. His face darkened. He opened his mouth to shout, but it was too late.

Alyssa didn't even seem to see the men.

The moment the first bodyguard's hand touched her shoulder, her own hand shot up. A flick of the wrist, a twist, a push.

A sickening crack echoed in the air, followed by a scream of pain. The bodyguard's wrist was bent at an unnatural angle, clearly dislocated.

The second guard, shocked, threw a punch. Alyssa sidestepped it effortlessly, driving her elbow into a precise point on his ribcage.

He let out a choked grunt and collapsed, curling into a ball on the ground, unable to breathe.

It was over in less than three seconds. A display of brutal, efficient violence that left everyone speechless.

Alyssa reached into her pocket, pulled out a tissue, and wiped her hands, which hadn't touched a thing.

She took a pen and a small notepad from her backpack and scribbled a few lines.

She slapped the note onto the chest of the stunned Mrs. Pemberton. "This is an emergency care regimen for the next three days. It will keep her stable. Tell your master his arrogance just cost him his only chance at a cure."

Without another word, she walked to the curb and hailed a taxi.

By the time Dalton and Tansy finally caught up, the car had already sped away.

Dalton looked at his groaning bodyguards, at the ashen-faced Mrs. Pemberton, and at the note in her hand, which was covered in complex molecular formulas he couldn't begin to comprehend. His face was a thundercloud of fury and regret.