The clock on the ICU wall was a silent executioner. Its second hand swept with a mechanical indifference, carving away the final moments of Elena's hope. It was 11:58 AM.
Elena burst into Room 402, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her vision blurred, a side effect of the Qi depletion from saving the old man downstairs, but she forced herself to stand tall. Inside the room, Dr. Harrison was already there, flanked by two burly security guards. He held a tablet, his finger hovering over the command to cease the high-frequency life support.
"Stop!" Elena cried out, her voice cracking. "I... I'm here."
Harrison didn't even look up. "Unless you have sixty thousand dollars in cash or a verified wire transfer, Miss Lin, your presence here is irrelevant. It is noon. The hospital's charity resources are full, and your mother's bed is needed for a patient who can actually contribute to the economy."
"She's a human being!" Elena staggered toward the bed, her hand reaching for her mother's pale, translucent fingers. "The man downstairs—the one I saved—he's wealthy. He'll help me. I just need a few minutes to—"
"The man in the parking lot?" Harrison finally looked at her, a sneer twisting his features. "I saw what you did. You used some primitive, barbaric needle trick on a dying man. If anything, the Blackwood family will be back to sue you for desecrating a corpse once the adrenaline wears off. You didn't save him; you just shocked his nervous system into a final, involuntary spasm."
He turned to the lead security guard. "Escort her out. If she resists, call the police for trespassing."
One of the guards stepped forward, his hand reaching for Elena's shoulder. She felt a surge of cold fury, but her body was too weak to fight back. She had poured her vital energy into that silver needle, and now, the world felt like it was made of lead.
Is this it? she thought, a tear finally escaping and hot against her cheek. After all the secrets, all the training... am I going to watch her die because of a number on a screen?
"Take your hands off her."
The voice wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of a mountain. It was a voice used to commanding empires, a deep, resonant baritone that vibrated through the very glass of the ICU partitions.
The security guard froze. Dr. Harrison spun around, his arrogant expression instantly melting into one of stammering confusion.
Alexander Blackwood stood in the doorway.
He had shed his grey suit jacket, standing now in a charcoal-colored silk shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms that looked like they were sculpted from marble. But it wasn't his physique that held the room captive—it was his aura. Elena, with her medical sight, saw it clearly: he was surrounded by a swirling, jagged mist of frost. To anyone else, he just looked cold and intimidating. To her, he looked like a man walking through a blizzard that only he could feel.
"Mr... Mr. Blackwood!" Harrison stuttered, bowing so low he nearly tripped over his own feet. "I didn't expect you back so soon. Your grandfather is being settled into the Diamond Suite as we speak. I was just—"
"I heard what you were 'just' doing," Alexander said. He walked into the room, his black oxfords clicking rhythmically on the linoleum. He didn't look at Harrison. His eyes, as dark and piercing as a winter night, were locked onto Elena. "You were about to kill the mother of the woman who just saved my family's patriarch."
"No! No, you misunderstand!" Harrison's face went from pale to a sickly green. "It's hospital policy! The debt is—"
"The debt is gone," Alexander interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. A man in a dark suit—Alexander's personal assistant—stepped forward and handed a black titanium card to Harrison. "I've purchased this entire wing of the hospital. Every piece of equipment, every nurse, and every debt. As of thirty seconds ago, Dr. Harrison, you are no longer an employee here. Pack your things. If I see you in Jiangcheng's medical district again, I will consider it a personal affront."
Harrison stood paralyzed, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The security guards, sensing the shift in power, quickly retreated, dragging the disgraced doctor out of the room with them.
Silence descended, broken only by the steady beep-whoosh of the ventilator.
Elena leaned against the railing of her mother's bed, her head spinning. She looked at Alexander, wary and exhausted. "Why?"
Alexander stepped closer. The temperature in the room seemed to drop five degrees. "My grandfather is awake. He's speaking. He says the 'ice' in his chest is gone for the first time in three years. He also says that you are a Lin."
Elena stiffened. The name 'Lin' was a brand of shame in this city. "If you're here to collect on my father's old debts, you're too late. They took everything but the clothes on my back."
"I don't care about your father's debts," Alexander said. He reached out, his long fingers hovering just inches from her face before he pulled back, as if resisting an urge. "I care about your hands. My investigators found your records. You were a straight-A student at the top medical university before you disappeared three years ago. They say you're a failure. My grandfather says you're a god."
Elena gave a bitter laugh. "I'm just a girl with a needle, Mr. Blackwood. You've paid the bill. Thank you. Now, please leave us in peace."
"The bill I paid was only for today," Alexander said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, silky whisper. He moved around the bed until he was standing directly in front of her, forcing her to look up at him. "Your mother's condition is stable, but she requires a specialized neuro-regenerative serum that costs ten thousand dollars a dose. She needs it every day for a year if she's ever going to wake up. Can you afford that, Elena?"
Elena's heart sank. He was right. The ICU stay was just the beginning. The "Phoenix" inheritance could stabilize a life, but it couldn't regrow damaged brain tissue without the support of modern pharmacology.
"What do you want?" she whispered, knowing there was a price. Men like Alexander Blackwood didn't buy hospital wings out of the goodness of their hearts.
Alexander reached into his pocket and pulled out a document. It wasn't a medical chart. It was a contract.
"My grandfather isn't the only one in the Blackwood family with an 'ice' problem," he said. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt.
Elena gasped. Centered on his chest, right over his heart, was a faint, blue-black mark shaped like a frost-cracked star. It pulsed with a dull, malevolent light.
"Doctors call it a rare autoimmune condition," Alexander said, his eyes burning into hers. "But I felt what you did in that parking lot. You didn't just use medicine; you used Qi. You are the only person I've met in ten years who can touch me without being burned by the cold."
He stepped so close she could smell the scent of sandalwood and expensive scotch on him.
"I need a healer. My grandfather needs a guardian. And the Blackwood Group needs a mistress who can navigate the vipers of high society without flinching."
He laid the contract on the edge of her mother's bed.
"Sign this, and your mother receives the best care in the world. I will hire a private medical team to stay with her twenty-four hours a day. I will rebuild your father's laboratory. I will give you the power to crush the people who framed your family."
Elena looked at the document. The header read: Pre-Nuptial Agreement & Medical Service Compact.
"You want me to marry you?" she asked, her voice trembling. "For a year?"
"In name only," Alexander said, though his gaze suggested something far more possessive. "You will be Mrs. Blackwood. You will attend my galas, you will heal my 'condition' when the crises hit, and you will show this city that the Lin family has returned with a vengeance."
Elena looked at her mother's peaceful, sleeping face. She looked at the man who represented everything that had destroyed her life—the cold, corporate greed that had swallowed her father's legacy.
But then she looked at the "Ice Poison" on his chest. It was a death sentence. He was a dying king looking for a secret queen.
"One year," Elena said, her voice growing cold and sharp, matching his own. "I want my father's original research notes back from your archives. And I want the head of Victoria Lin on a metaphorical silver platter."
Alexander's lips curled into a dark, satisfied smirk. He produced a fountain pen, its nib gold and glinting. "Deal."
As Elena signed her name, she felt a strange, electric spark jump from the paper to her fingertips. She didn't know that by signing this paper, she wasn't just saving her mother. She was entering a world of ancient sects, hidden powers, and a man whose heart was a fortress she would eventually have to burn down to save.
"Welcome to the family, Elena," Alexander whispered, leaning down to her ear. "Don't bother packing. Your new life begins now."
As he led her out of the room, Elena caught one last glimpse of the blue mark on his chest. It seemed to pulse faster, as if acknowledging its new master. The hunt had ended, and the cage—no matter how gilded—had just snapped shut.