Chapter 101

"Sure, add me." Vivian smoothly pulled up her QR code and slid it toward Ryan Fairsprene.

The notification ping sounded as the scan completed. She tucked her phone into her lab coat pocket and turned toward the exam room.

The waiting area was packed with patients, the line stretching down the hallway.

"Dr. Laurent, my knee has hurt for three years." An elderly woman with silver hair clutched her joint, brows furrowed.

Vivian's fingers pressed lightly against the swollen area. "Meridian blockage. Two needles will fix it."

Silver flashed between her fingers as the acupuncture needles found their marks. The woman's eyes widened. "It's a miracle! The pain's gone!"

"Follow up in two weeks." Vivian scribbled notes while calling, "Next."

The young man had barely sat down when she spoke. "Dizziness, fatigue, muscle aches?"

"How did you know?" He nearly jumped up. "No other hospital could diagnose me."

"See Dr. Wang in cardiology." Her pen flew across the prescription pad. "Your heart's the issue."

At 2 PM, the last patient finally left. Rubbing her stiff neck, Vivian returned to her office to find a thermal lunchbox on her desk.

"Did you bring this, Nathan?" She peeked into the next room.

Nathan Clementson shook his head. "Not me."

"That..." Ryan's ears turned pink. "I noticed you always miss meals..."

"Thanks." She lifted the lid. Steam rose from the hot food. Only then did she check her phone. A message from Ethan Roscente glowed on the lock screen.

"Race me?"

Vivian arched a brow. The championship trophy from France still sat in her study—earned under the alias "W."

She recalled their last motorcycle duel, Ethan relentlessly tailing her. That final hairpin pass had been a close victory.

"Didn't lose hard enough last time?" She sent a mocking sticker.

His reply was instant. "Supercars this time."

She snorted. Her fingers danced across the screen. "Try not to cry when you lose."

"Scared?" Ethan fired back.

"Send time and location." She set down her chopsticks. "I'll show you what professional looks like."

Across town, the man smirked. His friend from the French circuit had just sent footage—a petite figure in a full-face helmet executing an impossible last-turn overtake.

This time, he'd witness "W's" skills firsthand.