Chapter 722

The ICU lights glared harshly under the sterile ceiling.

Little Theo's frail body lay surrounded by beeping machines, his small face obscured by a translucent oxygen mask. IV tubes snaked into his delicate arms like invasive vines.

Vivian Laurent exhaled as the steady rhythm of the heart monitor finally loosened the tension in her shoulders.

"Give me the last 24-hour vitals." She extended her hand toward the resident.

The doctor handed over a tablet. Vivian's fingers flew across the screen, analyzing each data point until relief flickered in her eyes. Every indicator showed improvement.

She gently cradled Theo's hand—icy against her palm.

"Hang in there, little warrior." Her whisper barely disturbed the antiseptic air. "When you wake up, I'll take you to Disneyland."

As she turned to leave, a featherlight pressure grazed her fingertips.

The unconscious boy had curled his fingers around hers.

Vivian froze.

Protocol demanded minimal ICU visits. Yet her feet refused to move.

"Just a little longer," she murmured, settling back into the chair. A lullaby hummed from her lips, soft as a heartbeat.

Meanwhile, the global medical forum erupted.

An account named "Dr. Luna" had posted a seismic declaration:

"If she's the real Dr. Luna... then who am I?"

Seven words detonated across the internet.

"Holy shit! The actual Dr. Luna exposing an impostor?"

"So Vivian Laurent's been faking it? Knew she couldn't possibly be the legendary surgeon!"

"Hold up—Vivian never claimed to be Dr. Luna."

"Spare me the act! Her entire reputation's built on that stolen identity!"

"I've met the real Dr. Luna. Vivian's just a fame-hungry fraud!"

"Those 'miracle surgeries'? All staged by her PR team!"

The digital mob sharpened their pitchforks.

But in the ICU, Vivian's lullaby never wavered, her fingers still entwined with Theo's.