Too Late For Regret: The Surgeon's Comeback

In the sterile, makeshift operating room, Arely was a different person. Dressed in surgical scrubs, a mask covering her face, only her eyes were visible. They were the eyes of a hawk-focused, calm, and utterly lethal. Alfred had managed to procure a set of instruments that were a close approximation of what she'd asked for. She took them, her movements economical and precise, and located a point on the base of Eleanor's spine. In the adjoining observation room, separated by a large pane of glass, Isadora stood with her arms crossed. "She's going to sever the spinal cord," she hissed to Elsworth. "Her entry point is completely wrong. It violates every principle of neurosurgery." Elsworth didn't speak. His knuckles were white where he gripped the railing. He watched Arely's hands on the monitor. They were impossibly steady. The lingering warmth from his ring was a silent command: trust her. Arely began to inject a pale blue liquid, a nerve-stabilizing agent she'd mentally reformulated from a compound used in her past life. The moment the fluid entered Eleanor's system, the heart monitor shrieked. A violent seizure wracked the old woman's body, her limbs convulsing against the restraints. "That's it! She's killing her!" Isadora screamed, grabbing her phone. "Security! Get the head of estate security in here now! Stop her!" Elsworth's face went pale. His breath caught in his chest. Inside the operating room, a small frown line appeared between Arely's eyebrows, but her hands remained rock-steady. With a minuscule adjustment, she angled the needle, bypassing a micro-capillary that was about to rupture. But it wasn't enough. Eleanor's blood pressure plummeted. The steady beep of the monitor faltered, turning into a long, continuous drone. Flatline. Isadora was already shouting into her phone about an intruder and an attempted murder. Two large security guards burst through the door, moving to grab Arely. "Don't touch me if you want her to live!" Arely's voice was a low, sharp command that cut through the chaos. As the guards hesitated, her other hand moved like lightning, a thin silver needle-acupuncture-plunging into a pressure point at the crown of Eleanor's head. The guards froze, stunned by her sheer authority. In that one-second pause, a miracle happened. A single, weak blip appeared on the EKG. Then another. The flatline resolved back into a slow, steady rhythm. Eleanor's convulsions ceased. Her breathing, ragged and shallow before, deepened. Isadora, still on the phone, didn't see the recovery. She only saw the crisis. "She tried to kill her! I saw it! Get more men in here!" Arely removed the needles, her movements unhurried. She finished the procedure, closing the tiny incision with sutures so fine they were nearly invisible. The heavy footsteps of more security personnel echoed in the hall. The two guards in the room, finally shaking off their stupor, surrounded Arely, their expressions grim. Isadora stormed into the room, her face contorted with fury. "You're a murderer!" she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Arely. Arely pulled off her surgical gloves and tossed them. They hit Isadora's chest with a soft slap. "The patient is stable. The crisis has passed." Isadora pushed past her to check Eleanor's vitals. Her eyes widened in disbelief. The readings were stable, better than they had been in weeks. But she refused to accept it. "It's a coincidence! A fluke!" The estate's head of security, escorted by Alfred, entered the room. Isadora immediately turned on Arely. "Arrest her! She's practicing medicine without a license! She almost killed my grandmother!" Elsworth walked in from the observation room. He looked from the security team, to the stabilized Eleanor, to the calm, defiant woman surrounded by guards. His expression was a storm of conflict. Arely met his gaze. "Our three-day agreement has just begun, Mr. Hall. Are you breaking our contract already?" Elsworth was silent for a long moment, the entire room holding its breath. Then he looked at the head of security. "Let her go," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "She's with me."