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

Cassie's mind flashed back to the scene of calculating his commission thirty seconds earlier.

Her stomach cramped violently, and acid reflux rushed to her throat, which she forced down.

Lynn stood side by side, watching the one-sided massacre through the gleaming bulletproof glass with an expressionless face.

Outside the window, Tuco tore off the dead man's woolen hat, carefully wiped the blood and flesh off the blade, folded it, and tucked it back into his waistband.

He glanced down and saw the bloodstains on the floral shirt, and frowned.

His gaze shifted to the RV, focusing on the glistening bloodstains on the door panel and the bottom edge of the window.

Tuco abruptly pulled open the car door, leaned half his body inside, and looked utterly annoyed.

"Dr. Lynn, I'm so sorry! I've made your sterile cart dirty!"

Blood was dripping down his chin, but his tone was as sincere as a child who had broken a neighbor's window.

Lynn looked at him: "If the blood seeps into the seams of the door panel, it will stink."

Tuko nodded repeatedly, clasped his hands together, and his gold teeth gleamed.

"Yes! You're absolutely right! I was being stupid!"

He abruptly turned his head and roared out of the car, "Get rid of this pile of garbage!"

Two henchmen scrambled forward, grabbed the corpse by the ankles, and dragged it into the dark alley.

The corpse was the unfortunate man whose hand had trembled when they were carrying the stretcher.

Tuko turned his face back, his smile as bright as ever.

He pointed outside and rattled off orders: "You! And you! Get to my grandmother's garage! There's super-strong cleaner and rags on the second shelf of the blue cabinet!"

"Scrub this car inside and out until it's spotless! Clean the rims thoroughly too! This is a doctor's life-saving vehicle; it absolutely cannot be dirty! Get out of here!"

The younger brothers rushed towards Tuko's grandmother's house like mad dogs.

Tuko turned back.

The bruises around his eyes from cocaine use and extreme excitement remained.

In the South Bronx, Tuco has an absolute rule:

Sell, don't use.

But in the past forty-eight hours, his grandmother’s near death pushed him to the brink of madness. For the first time in his life, he broke his vow and barely managed to suppress his collapsing nerves by taking large doses of drugs.

Now, Grandma is alive again.

This Asian doctor in front of us has snatched a person back from the clutches of death.

Tuko isn't stupid.

Those who work in this line of work risk their entire families' lives, and very few relatives dare to go to a regular hospital for treatment.

Knowing a black market doctor with top-notch surgical skills is like buying an absolutely reliable life-saving charm for your entire family.

Tucochlinn solemnly removed his hat in a gesture of respect.

Even though he didn't wear a hat on his bald head that looked like a braised egg.

"Dr. Lynn, from today onwards, we're best friends."

Tuco grinned.

"Come over for dinner this weekend! My grandma makes the best Mexican tacos in all of New York! It's my absolute favorite!"

He suddenly slapped his bald head.

"Damn! I forgot! Grandma still needs to recover! Then have some of my homemade wraps! I heard you Chinese can handle spicy food really well!"

He took a half step closer, lowered his voice, and spoke in a flattering tone.

"If you encounter any trouble in New York in the future, just mention my name, Tuco."

"You are my grandmother's savior, and you are also my Tuko's savior."

Amidst laughter, Tuco turned and walked towards the stretcher, moving gently, and together with his men carefully carried his sleeping grandmother out of the sterile room.

The soles of the leather shoes left a trail of hasty, bloody footprints on the asphalt road.

Sachi's gun was fixed on Tuko's back for a full three seconds before he slowly lowered it.

He flicked the safety back with his thumb and exhaled a heavy breath.

The carriage fell into dead silence.

Cassie's legs finally gave way and began to tremble uncontrollably.

His knee slammed against the metal leg of the folding chair, making a crisp "tap tap tap" sound.

Lynn picked up the $25,000 on the counter and threw it into her arms.

"Keep accounts."

He turned and walked to the stainless steel sink, turned on the tap, and began to wash his hands.

Late at night, Lynn returned to his apartment. Although his income had been increasing recently, he was also feeling increasingly exhausted.

But now, he finds himself in a situation beyond his control.

Initially, it was only for self-preservation, to avoid retaliation from the reseller team, that he proposed a mutually beneficial symbiotic relationship with Miller, stepping one foot into the underground world.

I never imagined things would come to this point, and now it might not be so easy to extricate myself...

Before he could think any further, a wave of drowsiness washed over him, and Lynn drifted off to sleep.

At the same time, in the apartments on Park Avenue, the heating was still kept on very low.

Victoria sat cross-legged on the Persian rug, the screen's glow illuminating her face.

She's editing a new video, and without Lynn's help, she's trying new things.

A private message from OnlyFans suddenly popped up in the upper right corner of the screen.

Sender: User_7749X.

"I know where you live."

Victoria frowned and opened the chat box.

Immediately afterwards, a second message popped up.

"The doorman, Hector, falls asleep after 2 a.m. Your crystal chandelier looks beautiful from across the street."

A photo is attached below.

The resolution is low; it was clearly taken in low light with a telephoto lens.

In the center of the image is the iconic arched window of her pre-war apartment building, and you can even vaguely see her silhouette sitting on the carpet.

A chill instantly shot from my tailbone to the back of my head.

Victoria slammed her laptop shut and turned to stare intently at the deep night outside the window.

She instinctively grabbed her phone and pressed 9 and 1.

The finger hovered over the last 1 and stopped.

Call the police?

and then?

Should we get the NYPD to check her phone?

Let the entire Upper East Side and the hospital know that the Vanderbilt family’s pride, the promising cardiothoracic surgeon, is flaunting his charisma online while wearing a white coat.

She took a screenshot.

Scroll to the bottom of the contacts list and stop at the name "Lynn".

This is the only person close to her who knows her secret.

The person who commands and controls her in front of the camera.

"I'm in trouble," she typed.

I stared at the blinking cursor for a while, then deleted it word by word.

Ask a resident for help?

Showing weakness to a man?

There is no such word as "weakness" in Victoria Vanderbilt's dictionary.

She tossed her phone deep into the sofa and went over to draw all the curtains.

No sleep for one night.

……

Eight o'clock in the morning, in the special orthopedic ward.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the blinds, casting bright dappled patterns on Victoria's beautiful face.

Good morning, doctors.

Elena, the young lawyer in the hospital bed, was already able to sit up halfway and was flipping through a thick stack of legal documents with one hand.

As a ruthless character who just broke into a Manhattan law firm from the slums, she won't stop making money until bone tuberculosis completely devours her.

"The recovery is going well; the traffic has dropped to a safe level."

Victoria stood by the bed, flipping through the bedside cards.

Her voice remained cool and professional.

Lynn stood to her side and slightly behind, and keenly noticed that she was speaking a little faster today, by about 10% to 15%.

His gaze fell on the back of Victoria's neck, where a fine layer of cold sweat covered her.

The corridor was filled with the smell of disinfectant, but Lynn could still smell a faint bitter chemical odor.

"I'll handle the removal of the drainage tube."

Victoria put down the medical record, put on sterile gloves, and picked up a pair of tissue scissors.

She leaned down, close to Elena's right shoulder blade.

Just then, the central air conditioning suddenly increased its cooling output.

"Splash—"

Victoria hunched her shoulders.

"Hector the doorman... the crystal chandelier is so beautiful..."

She subconsciously turned her head to look out the window, as if a telephoto lens in the building across the street was pointed at her back.

A half-second lapse in concentration caused her right hand to lose some control.

The sharp tip of the tissue scissors deviated from the suture and pierced straight towards Elena's fragile, newly healed skin flap.

"Smack."

A hand gripped Victoria's wrist.

The tip of the scissors stopped less than two millimeters from Elena's skin.

Victoria's pupils contracted sharply, and she finally came to her senses.