By the time Ethan Zhou’s private flight landed in Shanghai, the entire Zhou family was waiting at the VIP terminal.

His father had brought three specialists from Beijing.

His mother had arrived with two assistants, a private nurse, and the director of Shanghai Number One Hospital.

But none of them were the person Ethan needed.

The moment the cabin door opened, Butler Han rushed forward.

“Young Master Zhou!”

Ethan stepped out slowly.

He was twenty-nine, pale beneath the airport lights, and far thinner than the photographs published in financial magazines.

To everyone else, he was the only heir to a medical empire worth billions.

To me, he had been a patient with an extremely narrow chance of survival.

Nothing more.

Ethan glanced behind the waiting crowd.

“Where is the surgeon?”

Butler Han froze.

Chairman Zhou’s expression changed.

“What do you mean?”

“The Ghost Surgeon.”

Ethan leaned against the railing for support.

“You said she was flying with me.”

Butler Han swallowed.

“There seems to have been… a misunderstanding.”

Ethan’s mother stepped forward.

“What misunderstanding?”

Butler Han lowered his voice.

“She didn’t board the flight.”

Silence.

Chairman Zhou stared at him.

“You told me yesterday that everything was confirmed.”

“It was!”

Butler Han pulled out his phone.

“She accepted the advance. We confirmed the flight number. But when I checked after takeoff, her name wasn’t on the passenger list.”

Ethan coughed.

The hospital director immediately supported him.

But Ethan pushed his hand away.

“Call her.”

Butler Han’s face became even uglier.

“I already did.”

“And?”

“She returned the three million.”

Ethan’s father stopped breathing for a second.

“What?”

Butler Han opened the transfer record.

Four words were written beneath it.

FIND SOMEONE ELSE.

Ethan stared at the screen.

No one spoke.

Then his mother whispered:

“What did you say to her?”

Butler Han stiffened.

“I merely reminded her that the young master’s condition was urgent.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

Chairman Zhou’s voice had become terrifyingly calm.

“What did you say?”

Butler Han hesitated.

Ethan suddenly grabbed the phone from his hand and opened the call history.

Seven outgoing calls.

All unanswered.

He called again.

The automated voice replied:

The number you have dialed is unavailable.

Ethan looked up.

“She blocked you.”

Butler Han’s forehead was covered in sweat.

“I may have been slightly impatient.”

“How impatient?”

“I told her… that if she took our money and refused to appear, the Zhou family could make it difficult for her to continue working in medicine.”

The hospital director slowly turned toward him.

Chairman Zhou’s face went white.

Ethan gave a soft laugh.

Not because it was funny.

Because he finally understood how badly everything had gone.

“You threatened the only surgeon willing to operate on me?”

Butler Han immediately bowed.

“I didn’t know why she hadn’t boarded!”

“That was why you were supposed to ask.”

Ethan’s mother slapped the butler across the face.

“You idiot!”

The terminal went silent.

“I spent three months contacting that doctor!”

Her voice trembled.

“Three months!”

“She rejected hospitals in Europe, America, Singapore, everywhere! She only agreed because Professor Liang personally begged her.”

Butler Han held his cheek.

“I can fix it.”

Ethan looked at him.

“How?”

“I’ll find her.”

Before anyone could respond, Ethan’s assistant rushed from the terminal building.

“Young Master.”

“What?”

“There’s something you need to see.”

He held out a phone.

A video was spreading rapidly on social media.

The title read:

PASSENGER REMOVED FROM FLIGHT AFTER DEMANDING MONEY FROM AIRLINE.

The footage showed me standing at the counter.

My suitcase was open.

My belongings were scattered across the floor.

The cabin manager was filming my face.

In the edited clip, her voice was clear.

“This passenger refused our reasonable arrangement and demanded excessive compensation.”

The video cut.

Then another angle showed security guards escorting me away.

Comments were already flooding beneath it.

Greedy.

Shameless.

Blacklist her.

Ethan watched without speaking.

Then the assistant swiped to another video.

This one had been filmed by a passenger from farther away.

It showed what the airline’s official video had conveniently removed.

The cabin manager kicking my suitcase.

The zipper breaking.

The glass vial rolling across the floor.

Her shoe coming down on it.

The powder scattering.

Ethan leaned closer.

“What was that?”

No one answered.

The hospital director’s eyes widened.

He took the phone.

“Replay it.”

The clip played again.

He zoomed in on the shattered container.

Then his face changed completely.

“Oh no.”

Chairman Zhou turned toward him.

“What?”

The director looked at Ethan.

“That medicine.”

“What about it?”

“I saw the formulation list Professor Liang sent us.”

His voice became strained.

“The Ghost Surgeon said Young Master Zhou’s procedure required a postoperative compound prepared personally by her.”

Ethan’s mother went pale.

“Required?”

The director nodded slowly.

“She said there was no substitute.”

Everyone looked back at the video.

The cabin manager’s heel came down again.

Crack.

The vial shattered.

The medicine disappeared across the airport floor.

For the first time since landing, Ethan looked genuinely frightened.

“How long would it take to prepare another dose?”

The director did not answer.

Ethan grabbed his sleeve.

“How long?”

“I don’t know.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“The formula belongs to the surgeon.”

Chairman Zhou immediately turned to the airline representative waiting nearby.

“Who was the cabin manager?”

The representative had already begun sweating.

“Sir, I need to verify—”

“You have ten seconds.”

The man quickly checked his tablet.

“Linda Chen.”

“Bring her here.”

“She has another scheduled flight tomorrow—”

“Cancel it.”

The representative opened his mouth.

Chairman Zhou looked at him once.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“No, Chairman Zhou.”

Ethan suddenly spoke.

“Wait.”

Everyone turned.

He was watching the video again.

He pointed at the image of me.

“This woman.”

His voice was quiet.

“She was on my flight?”

“Yes,” the airline representative whispered.

“And she was removed…”

No one answered.

Ethan looked toward the aircraft behind him.

“…for me?”

The representative’s silence confirmed it.

Ethan closed his eyes.

For several seconds, he simply stood there.

Then he laughed bitterly.

“So I stole the Ghost Surgeon’s seat.”

“You didn’t know,” his mother said quickly.

“No.”

He opened his eyes.

“But someone knew I was important enough to remove another passenger without asking who she was.”

His gaze moved to the airline executive.

“And apparently your people believed anyone without an expensive suit was disposable.”

The executive bowed repeatedly.

“We will investigate immediately.”

Ethan ignored him.

“Find her.”

Butler Han stepped forward.

“I will contact the police—”

“No.”

Ethan stared at him.

“You’ve done enough.”

He turned to his assistant.

“Find her without threatening her, following her, or bothering anyone around her.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

“Find out where she is.”

Ethan paused.

“And find out what she wants.”

His father frowned.

“She wants nothing from us. She returned the money.”

Ethan looked at the transfer record again.

That was the problem.

A person who wanted money could be negotiated with.

A person who wanted status could be impressed.

A person who wanted favors could be compensated.

But someone who had returned three million yuan without hesitation?

That person could walk away.

And she had.

Meanwhile, I had already left the airport.

I took a taxi to a small private clinic on the outskirts of the city.

Professor Liang was waiting for me.

He was nearly seventy, but the moment he saw my broken suitcase, his face darkened.

“What happened?”

I placed the empty medicine case on his desk.

His hands froze.

“Nora…”

“They destroyed it.”

He removed his glasses.

“The Zhou compound?”

I nodded.

Professor Liang sat down heavily.

“Can you make another?”

“Yes.”

Hope appeared in his eyes.

Then I continued.

“In forty-nine days.”

His face went blank.

“Ethan Zhou doesn’t have forty-nine days.”

“I know.”

He stared at me.

“You’re really refusing the operation?”

“I was dragged off the plane like a criminal.”

“I heard.”

“The airline fabricated a story.”

“I saw.”

“The Zhou family’s butler threatened to destroy my career.”

Professor Liang sighed.

“He’s an arrogant fool.”

“He represents the family that hired me.”

“Nora.”

He stood.

“You know I won’t ask you to forgive them.”

“Good.”

“But I will ask one question.”

I looked at him.

“If Ethan Zhou dies…”

Professor Liang spoke carefully.

“…will you regret not operating?”

I said nothing.

That was the only question capable of hurting me.

Because I had never refused a patient out of anger.

Never.

Medicine was supposed to be separate from pride.

But Ethan’s surgery required more than skill.

Without the destroyed compound, the postoperative complications could become uncontrollable.

Even if I agreed now, his chances had already fallen dramatically.

My phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

I ignored it.

It rang again.

Then again.

Professor Liang looked at the screen.

“You should probably answer.”

“No.”

A message arrived instead.

MISS BENNETT, THIS IS ETHAN ZHOU.

I stared at it.

Another message appeared.

I JUST LEARNED WHAT HAPPENED AT THE AIRPORT.

Then:

I WILL NOT ASK YOU TO FORGIVE ANYONE.

And finally:

BUT BEFORE YOU DECIDE WHETHER I DESERVE TO DIE, THERE IS SOMETHING YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THE MEDICINE THAT WAS DESTROYED.

My hand stopped.

Professor Liang noticed.

“What?”

I opened the next message.

A photograph appeared.

It showed the broken vial from the airport floor.

Except beside it was another picture.

A laboratory report.

My formula.

My confidential formula.

The composition I had never given to the Zhou family.

My eyes narrowed.

Then Ethan sent one final sentence.

THAT WAS NOT THE FIRST DOSE.

I stood so quickly that the chair struck the wall.

Professor Liang grabbed the phone from my hand.

His expression changed.

“What does he mean?”

I already knew.

Someone had copied my medicine before I ever arrived in Shanghai.

Someone inside the Zhou medical empire had obtained a formula that only three people in the world should have known.

And suddenly Ethan Zhou’s illness no longer looked natural.

I took the phone back.

For the first time, I answered him.

WHERE DID YOU GET THAT REPORT?

The response came immediately.

FROM MY MOTHER’S PRIVATE SAFE.

Three seconds later, another message appeared.

THE REPORT IS DATED SIX MONTHS BEFORE YOU AGREED TO TREAT ME.

I stared at those words.

Ethan had only been seriously ill for four months.

Professor Liang whispered:

“That’s impossible.”

“No.”

I looked at the laboratory report again.

“It means someone knew exactly what illness Ethan Zhou was going to develop…”

I slowly raised my eyes.

“…before Ethan Zhou became sick.”

And for the first time since leaving the airport, I realized the man whose life I had just refused to save might not be dying from disease at all.

Someone had been preparing his death long before the Zhou family ever found me.