"Going where?"
Claire was completely lost.
It was getting late. Was the esteemed doctor really trying to draft her into free labor right now?
"You'll see when we get there."
Dr. Sterling didn't have time to explain.
Besides, they were in a crowded hall. His work was highly classified, and he
certainly couldn't broadcast it to the room.
His work was top secret.
"I..." Claire tried to decline, but Dr. Sterling was already dragging her toward the exit.
She barely had a second to wave goodbye to Dane.
Sloane watched her grandfather walk away with Claire, a bitter taste flooding her mouth.
His work was strictly confidential. He had never once asked any of his grandchildren to tag along when duty called.
Even her own father didn't get that kind of access.
What gave Claire the right?
Was it all just because of her dead mentor?
And earlier, her grandfather had actually offered to teach Claire the Sterling Thirteen-Point Technique—the very same technique he had forbidden Sloane from learning.
He had bluntly declared that everyone in her generation lacked the talent for it.
He hadn't even given her a chance to try before dismissing her.
Sloane was furious.
Yet she was entirely helpless.
She desperately wanted his validation.
Watching him dote on an outsider made her chest burn with envy.
She turned and noticed Dane had also been left behind.
"Mr. Green, it looks like my grandfather needed Claire for something urgent. If you're going to wait for her, why don't we..."
"No need. I'm leaving," Dane cut her off coldly, completely shutting down her attempt to socialize.
Dane turned on his heel and walked away, giving her no further attention.
Nolan, eager to speak with Dane, immediately grabbed his sister and hurried after him.
Whitney and her date, Jim, had been a step too slow.
Sloane watched them all leave. Only Whitney paused to offer a polite farewell.
"Sloane, thank you for the lovely evening. We have prior engagements, so we must take our leave."
The banquet was far from over, but having achieved their networking goals, there was no reason to linger.
"You're leaving as well?" Sloane forced her expression to remain pleasant.
"Did you enjoy the evening?" she asked smoothly.
Whitney flashed a polished, corporate smile. "Absolutely. Thank you for hosting."
"As long as you had a good time."
Sloane saw them to the door before returning to the empty banquet hall.
Meanwhile, Claire and Dr. Sterling had arrived at The Federal Medical Center.
The VIP intensive care wing was strictly off-limits to the public.
But Dr. Sterling was a regular.
As he strode down the pristine corridors, multiple staff members nodded respectfully.
Everyone knew a critical patient had just been rushed in, but they couldn't figure out why the legendary doctor had brought a young woman with him.
An older doctor with silver hair and a crisp white coat spotted Dr. Sterling and tucked his pen into his pocket.
"Solomon, did you bring your granddaughter to work?"
Dr. Sterling shook his head. "She's not my granddaughter."
"If my granddaughter were half as..." He caught himself.
Sloane might have been painfully average, but she was still family. There was no need to humiliate her in front of a colleague.
"This is the student of an old friend. He passed all his best techniques down to her."
"General Harrison Darwin's old injuries are acting up again, and I can't handle it alone."
"Fortunately, she's young, her
stamina is high, and her
acupuncture skills are flawless. With
the two of us. Working together
alongside your surgical team, we might finally be able to extract that shrapnel."
The shrapnel lodged inside the General was a brutal relic of war.
Now that he was in his twilight years, it was actively killing him. Every time the weather turned cold and damp, the pain was agonizing enough to make a lesser man beg for death.
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If his descendants weren't so breathtakingly incompetent, the old man wouldn't have
fought so hard to stay alive.
The flare-ups were growing exponentially worse.
When the pain spiked, the agony
was so intense it threatened to shatter his mind, leaving him gasing in cold sweat as he crushed his grip against the bedrails. Content Belongs