Chapter 357

The first light of dawn filtered through the windows as Vivian Laurent stood outside the operating room.

She had received an urgent call from Dr. Zachary Kalmien the previous night—a congenital heart disease patient required immediate surgery.

"Dr. Laurent, the patient is under anesthesia," a nurse handed her surgical scrubs.

Vivian swiftly pulled on gloves and entered the OR.

Under the surgical lights, her movements were fluid and precise. Each incision was executed with textbook accuracy, like a meticulously choreographed dance.

"Flawless," Dr. Kalmien murmured, eyes fixed on her technique. "This valve repair could be in a medical journal."

Three hours later, the operating lights dimmed.

"Vitals stable," the anesthesiologist reported.

Vivian removed her mask, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead.

"Dr. Laurent, there's another similar case next week—" Dr. Kalmien began hesitantly.

"Send me the file," Vivian cut him off. "I'm needed in General Surgery now."

As she stepped into the hallway, angry shouting echoed from down the corridor.

"Bring Vivian out here! I'm her father!"

Her steps faltered.

At the nurses' station, Vincent Valrose was shoving past security guards.

"Sir, we'll call the police if you continue!" The head nurse blocked his path.

"Go ahead! Let everyone see how the Roscente Group's young madam treats her own flesh and blood!"

Vivian approached with icy composure.

"What's happening?"

"Dr. Laurent!" A relieved nurse rushed forward. "This man claims to be your—"

Vincent lunged at her. "Vivian! I was wrong!"

She sidestepped effortlessly.

"I don't know him," she told security. "He's disrupting hospital operations. Call the authorities."

Vincent's face twisted with rage.

"You ungrateful brat!" He bellowed for the waiting area to hear. "Look how the Roscente heiress abandons her family!"

Murmurs rippled through the gathered patients.

"Twenty years I raised you, and now you're too good for your old man!" Vincent beat his chest dramatically. "Won't even pay my hospital bills!"

Vivian's gaze could have frozen hell.

"The fifty thousand dollars I transferred last week—gone in three days at the casino?"

The crowd erupted in disapproving noises.

Vincent flushed crimson. "That—that was child support!"

"Shall I show the bank records?" Vivian pulled out her phone. "Or should we ask Macau police for their surveillance footage?"

Vincent made a grab for her phone.

Nathan Clementson appeared like lightning, seizing the older man's wrist.

"Security!" Nathan barked. "Remove him!"

As guards dragged Vincent away, his screams echoed down the hall. "The Roscente heiress abuses her father! I'll tell every reporter in town!"

Vivian turned toward her office without a backward glance.

Nathan called after her. "Should I contact Mr. Roscente?"

"Don't bother." Her voice held finality. "Just a pathetic clown."

The office door clicked shut behind her.

Her phone screen illuminated with a new message:

Queen Eleanor of Eudora: Our appointment at seven tonight. Don't forget.