Chapter 47

No.1

The FDA hearing concluded with a preliminary approval for Aethel's Al framework. The tension of the courtroom dissolved into the low, wealthy murmur of the VIP celebration reception held in the Federal Building's glass-walled atrium.

Elisa stood near a towering floral arrangement,holding a flute of champagne. She was surrounded by several high-level hospital administrators,effortlessly commanding the conversation with her technical brilliance.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar,irritating figure approaching.

It was Devon Browning. August's most loyal,sycophantic attack dog.

Devon pushed his way through the circle of administrators. He held a glass of scotch, his face flushed, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. He had been in the gallery. He had heard the medical exchange.

"Well, well," Devon sneered, his voice deliberately loud enough to silence the surrounding conversations. "Pseudocyesis. Fancy word for being broken, isn't it?"

The hospital administrators frowned, stepping back slightly from the sudden hostility.

No.2

Devon looked Elisa up and down, his gaze lingering on her stomach with blatant, disgusting disrespect.

"No wonder August dumped you," Devon laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "Seven years of marriage and you couldn't even drop a single kid. Taking up space and shooting blanks. Any man would have looked elsewhere."③

The sheer, vulgar misogyny ofthe statement hung in the air. It was a brutal, public shaming tactic designed to break her composure.

Elisa's grip on her champagne flute tightened. The glass groaned under the pressure.

She didn't feel hurt. She felt a profound, exhausting annoyance. Engaging with Devon was like arguing with a cockroach.

Before Elisa could open her mouth to verbally eviscerate him, a tall figure stepped smoothly between them.

Alastair Cromwell materialized at Elisa's side. He held a glass of sparkling water, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were entirely lethal.

No.3

"Mr.Browning," Alastair said. His British accent was clipped, elegant, and dripping with absolute condescension. "Your grasp of basic biology is almost as pathetic as your tailoring."

Devon bristled, his face turning red. "Excuse me?"

Alastair took a slow sip of his water. He looked around the quiet circle of medical professionals,ensuring he had an audience.

"A barren marriage is rarely a one-sided failure,"Alastair said, his voice carrying clearly across the atrium.

He turned his gaze back to Devon, a cruel, knowing smile playing on his lips.

"Given the extreme stress Mr. Chambers operates under, and his... notoriously reckless extracurricular

activities," Alastair poaused, letting the implication of disease and exhaustion hang heavy in the air. "I would suggest that severe erectile dysfunction and catastrophic sperm motility are the far more scientifically probable causes for the lack of an heir."

No.4

A collective, suppressed gasp rippled through the surrounding crowd. Several doctors coughed to hide their sudden laughter.

Standing twenty feet away, near the bar, August heard every single word.

His face went completely, deathly pale, and then flushed a violent, explosive crimson. The crystal tumbler in his hand shattered with a sharp crack,whiskey and glass slicing into his palm.

Devon was paralyzed. He sputtered, trying to defend his alpha. "You... you're lying! August is perfectly fine!"

"Is he?" Alastair raised an eyebrow, feigning innocent concern. "He should really see a specialist. Denial is the first symptom of impotence."

August began to storm across the room, his physical mass parting the crowd like a battleship. His eyes

were locked on Alastair, pure murder radiating from his pores.

No.5

Just as a physicaI altercation seemed inevitable, a massive commotion erupted at the entrance of the atrium.

Dr. Gottlieb Blevins, the Nobel-nominated titan of modern medicine, walked through the doors,surrounded by a phalanx of reporters and sycophants.

Allena, who had been hovering near the entrance,saw her chance. She desperately needed Blevins'endorsement to save her ruined reputation.

She completely ignored August's bleeding handand his public humiliation. She grabbed August's arm and violently yanked him toward the entrance. August let out a hiss of pain, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and crudely wrapping it around his bleeding palm as she dragged him away.

"August, hurry! It's Dr. Blevins!" Allena hissed,dragging the furious billionaire away from his confrontation.

Elisa watched them retreat. A cold, genuine smile

finally touched her lips.

No.6

"Thank you," Elisa murmured to Alastair.

"My pleasure," Alastair replied, adjusting his cuffs."But I believe the main event has just arrived."

Elisa set her champagne glass down on a passing waiter's tray. She smoothed the front of her jacket and began to walk toward the center of the room.

Allena had just managed to push her way to the front of the crowd. She plastered on a desperate, fawning smile and reached out her hand toward the medical titan.

"Dr. Blevins! I am Dr. Allena Mills, I sent you my research on-"

Dr. Blevins didn't even look at her. He brushed past Allena's outstretched hand as if she were a piece of furniture.

His sharp, elderly eyes had locked onto the woman walking calmly toward him in the slate-grey suit.

No.7

Dr. Blevins' stern face instantly broke into a massive,joyous smile. He threw his arms open wide.

"Faye!" Dr. Blevins boomed, his voice echoing over the crowd. "My most brilliant student! You finally came out of hiding!"

The entire room froze.

Allena, standing inches away, slowly turned her head.

She looked at Elisa. She looked at the Nobel-nominated genius hugging the woman she had called a "trailer park nurse."

The blood drained entirely from Allena's face. Her knees buckled slightly. The absolute, crushing reality of Elisa's supremacy slammed into her, burying her alive in front of the entire medical elite of New York.③