American Medicine: I survived the death knell thanks to the devil.

After the shoot, Lynn straightened her clothes and walked out of the apartment.

A rich aroma wafted over.

A bouquet of flowers sits on the marble countertop in the apartment lobby.

This is a bouquet of roses with a warm, apricot-like color.

A gold-embossed card was placed next to the bouquet.

Lynn's gaze swept over it, and her reading addiction kicked in.

"Victoria, stop struggling. Be my personal physician, and Vanderbilt Estate will still be yours. But you..."

"be mine."

There was no signature, only a family crest stamp in cursive script.

At this moment, Victoria changed out of the clothes she was wearing for the video, put on a coat, and came out of the apartment to see Lynn off.

When she saw the card clearly, the lingering blush from her earlier shyness faded.

Her expression shifted from anger to shame, and finally to profound helplessness.

It's like someone trying hard to prove they can earn money standing up, only to have a wad of cash suddenly thrown in their face.

She strode forward and roughly grabbed the expensive bouquet.

Lynn raised an eyebrow. "These flowers look expensive."

"It's filthy."

Victoria's eyes were filled with disgust.

She turned around to throw the flowers into the trash can in the hallway, but hesitated when she reached it.

She turned her head, looked at Lynn, and finally stuffed the flowers into his arms.

"Here you go! Thank you for filming the video for me today."

"Using someone else's flowers to offer to Buddha?"

Lynn held the expensive bouquet of roses and found it somewhat amusing.

"Take it back to decorate your rented apartment, or give it to whichever girl you like, it's up to you."

Victoria tried to exhale the pent-up breath in her chest.

"Just don't let me see it again."

After saying that, she slammed the apartment door shut.

Victoria, inside the door, leaned against the door panel, her fingers gripping the doorknob tightly.

Compared to the person who only wanted to turn her into a canary and keep her in a cage.

The person outside the door, Lynn, who had just been forcing her to "be good" in front of the camera, suddenly didn't seem so annoying anymore.

At least, he was genuinely trying to make money with me.

……

The following morning, Metropolitan Hospital, VIP ward.

There's no disinfectant smell like in a regular ward; instead, there's a faint lavender scent that can soothe patients' emotions.

Lying in the hospital bed is a potential number one draft pick in the NBA.

A group of doctors in white coats surrounded the bed.

Leading the group was Professor Hudson Sr., a titan of the American medical community.

He was followed by Victoria and Julian Cabot.

Lynn was not present; he was still in the emergency room treating several drunk men.

"12 hours after the surgery."

Old Hudson put on his reading glasses, flipping through the temperature record on the bedside table as he spoke:

"Body temperature is normal, peripheral blood circulation is good. Let's take a look at the incision."

The nurse carefully cut open the bandage and removed the dressing.

Julian, who was about to deliver a profound speech, swallowed back the words he was about to say.

Professor Hudson lowered his head and leaned closer to examine the surgical incision, which was about ten centimeters long.

There was no common postoperative redness or swelling, and the skin edges were aligned exceptionally smoothly, with almost no visible step-like appearance.

The most valuable part is the suture.

The distance between the needle insertion point and the edge of the incision is absolutely consistent for each stitch, and the knotting force is just right, ensuring tension closure without creating unsightly "centipede leg" marks.

"Is this a modified vertical mattress suture?"

Old Hudson extended his gloved fingers and gently pressed the skin around the incision; it was elastic.

He looked up at Victoria through his glasses, his tone carrying a hint of approval:

"For areas with high tension, we usually suture them tighter as a precaution, but this will sacrifice the aesthetics after healing and increase the risk of scar adhesion."

"Dr. Vanderbilt, you are very confident in your control of skin tension."

This is a very high evaluation in the field of surgery.

This means that the surgeon not only considered the current healing process, but also the patient's recovery of motor function several months later.

Julian stood to the side, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

As the first assistant, he knew very well what happened at the end of yesterday's surgery.

But he chose to remain silent, a stiff smile on his face, as if he too shared in the glory.

After all, it's customary for the chief surgeon's reputation to overshadow the entire team.

Victoria had her hands in the pockets of her white coat, her expression calm.

She glanced at the wound, then at Julian, who was pretending to be deaf and dumb beside her.

"Thank you for your compliment, Professor."

Victoria's voice remained as cold as ever.

"However, I didn't do the final subcutaneous tension reduction and epidermal suturing."

Old Hudson paused for a moment, and although he thought it unlikely, he still looked at Julian.

"Oh? Is that Dr. Cabot?"

Julian felt a little guilty.

No, it wasn't him either.

Victoria raised her voice an octave to make sure everyone in the room could hear her.

"Lynn did it."

"That ER intern? The one who solved the trap you left behind?"

Old Hudson was somewhat surprised when he recalled the person after a while.

"You want him to do the stitches for Marcus?"

"I kept a close eye on things the whole time to make sure nothing went wrong."

Victoria didn't exaggerate Lynn's talent; she simply stated objectively:

"His hands are very steady, and he has a good understanding of soft tissue layers. I let Lynn take over the rest of the work."

This statement was made lightly, but the reasoning behind it is impeccable.

Julian, as the assistant, was somewhat embarrassed but unable to refute it.

"So that's how it is."

Old Hudson re-examined the wound and nodded thoughtfully.

"It's rare to find someone who dares to delegate to newcomers and has such a keen eye for talent. Victoria, you're quite good too."

He straightened up and took off his gloves.

"Since he did the suturing, he knows best the tension distribution of the incision. Let him be in charge of the dressing changes and rehabilitation observation for the next few days."

Upon hearing this, Julian became anxious.

Being in charge of the post-operative management of a potential NBA number one draft pick means having direct access to the agent team of a top star, a resource that many doctors dream of.

Giving it to an intern is too much of a waste.

"Professor, Lynn has only been here for less than a year, and she's still in the emergency room..."

"Let him come over."

Victoria interrupted Julian.

She turned her head, looked at old Hudson, and her attitude was firm:

"I will apply to the medical department to temporarily transfer him to my team."

"Since I was the one who put him on the operating table, I have to be responsible for this patient's recovery. Using a doctor familiar with the wound is always safer than using an inexperienced one, isn't it?"

Old Hudson smiled and said, "Then let's do it your way."

……

As Victoria left the ward, she glanced back at Marcus on the hospital bed.

She had a clear understanding of the situation.

Lynn had leverage over her, but instead of using it to blackmail her, he helped her plan a career transformation.

Although this young man is somewhat domineering and likes to give her orders during filming, he is indeed effective in crucial moments and keeps his mouth shut.

In Victoria's heart, Lynn was already half one of her own.

"You got off easy."

Victoria snorted softly, only she could hear, and strode away in her high heels.

She told herself, "Just consider it a small tip for the photographer."