Chapter 0003

Author: Miss Rich Last Updated: 2024-10-16 15:18:16

North Avenue was an hour and a half drive from South Avenue. Suzy arrived at the Goodwin family estate, disguised as promised. Under the pretense of treating an illness, she attempted to hypnotize Martin, but unfortunately, gleaned no useful information. Leaving the estate, lost in thought, she bumped into someone, a sharp pain lancing through her forehead.

“Sorry…” The apology died in her throat as she recognized the face. Dylan. What was he doing here? Enemies crossing paths—the irony wasn't lost on her.

In less than two seconds, Suzy averted her gaze and walked away, her expression impassive. Dylan remained, bewildered. She'd been about to apologize; why the sudden shift? Her look was one of utter animosity, as if they were mortal enemies. He watched her go, his eyes narrowing. That figure strongly resembled Suzy.

The Goodwin family butler's voice broke through his thoughts. “Mr. Wright, we’re so honored by your presence. I apologize for the oversight.” By the time Dylan looked back, the woman had vanished.

He found Martin healthy and rosy-cheeked, apparently recovered. Dylan explained his visit, only to learn the miracle doctor had departed moments before. Speechless, he wondered if the freckled woman he'd bumped into was, in fact, the miracle doctor.

Knowing pursuit was futile, he said goodbye to Martin. To his surprise, her car was just pulling away. “Wait!” he called, but the engine roared, drowning him out.

“Damn it!” He was certain: this woman harbored ill will toward him. He quickly pursued her.

Suzy saw the black luxury car in her rearview mirror, her brow furrowing. Had he recognized her? Her disguise was impeccable; not even her parents, were they alive, would recognize her. And Dylan, after three years of marriage, had barely looked at her properly. Why this relentless chase? Was it merely over an unoffered apology?

A cold smirk played on her lips as she floored the accelerator. “You owe me far more than I owe you!” The red Maserati shot forward.

“Interesting,” Dylan muttered, accelerating in response. The red and black cars became locked in a fierce chase through the winding mountain roads.

Initially, Dylan was confident. How could he not catch a woman? But on the final stretch, she executed a sharp U-turn, driving straight at him. He swerved, narrowly avoiding a collision, but his car skidded into the mountainside, stalling. Through the windshield, their eyes met. She gave him a playful thumbs-down, her arrogance infuriating. Then, with impressive speed, she left him in the dust.

“Red Falcon…” she was not only a miracle doctor but an ace racer. Her appearance might be unremarkable, but her skills were undeniable. But why the animosity?

Back at the office, Dylan instructed Desmond, “Investigate Red Falcon. Leave no stone unturned.” He needed to know what had angered her so deeply.

Half an hour later, Desmond returned, defeated. “Sir, all information on Red Falcon is behind a heavily encrypted firewall. We've consulted several experts, but none have been able to breach it.”

“…Send me the link.”

“Boss, someone’s hacking our files!” Allen said, handing Suzy his laptop. “It started half an hour ago. The latest attacker is highly skilled. I’m struggling to stop them.”

“Is that so?” Suzy sat up, her eyes narrowing. “Let me handle this.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard. Within minutes, she closed the laptop, tossing it onto the couch. “Let’s get something to eat.”

Back at his desk, Dylan stared in disbelief as his screen displayed one word: LOSER! He nearly destroyed the computer in frustration. Desmond watched, barely daring to breathe. Their boss's hacking skills were globally renowned. How could this happen?

Seeing Dylan's rage, Desmond cautiously suggested, “Sir, they likely don't know it’s you. It wasn’t personal…”

“Get out!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Wait,” Dylan called, stopping Desmond. “Use the Goodwins’ contact information. Offer her ten million dollars for the treatment.” Anne's poisoning was the priority.

A shadow flickered in Dylan’s eyes as he plotted his next move.

As food arrived, Allen’s phone rang—an unfamiliar number. Suzy nodded, and he answered on speakerphone.

“Is this the miracle doctor, Red Falcon?” It was Desmond.

Suzy’s hand froze. Was Dylan truly obsessed with an apology? He’d never known defeat, and her taunts stung his pride. To avoid further entanglement, she gestured for Allen to hang up.

“I’m sorry, wrong number.”

Desmond interrupted. “Wait, please! A patient desperately needs the miracle doctor. We offer ten million dollars.”

Suzy’s expression was unreadable. This was the reason for Dylan's pursuit? Their encounter hadn’t been accidental? Such a generous offer… fearing it might involve Grace Lawson, her kind grandmother, she mouthed instructions for Allen to request details.

“Can you provide patient information? Send it to my phone,” Allen asked.

“Of course,” Desmond replied eagerly.

Suzy saw Anne was the patient and tossed the phone back. “Tell them I don’t treat for money. I believe in destiny, and this patient isn't fated to meet me.”

Allen blinked. “Since when do you have such rules?” Sensing something was amiss, he relayed the message.

Desmond reported back to Dylan. Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “Add another ten million dollars!” He couldn’t believe she’d refuse.

Suzy sneered. “Twenty million?” A mischievous urge took hold. She wanted to see how much Anne meant to Dylan. “Tell them two hundred million. Not a penny less.”