— Really? I was thinking about complaining. She did it while I was practically awake!
The surgeon laughed:
— If she hadn’t, you’d be in a body bag. You should be thanking God you crashed in her backyard. I’ve never seen talent like that wasted in a place like that.
Two weeks later, Eleanor was sitting on her porch. Spring had finally arrived in full force. She couldn’t stop thinking about the pilot. Was he okay? Had there been an infection? She’d heard from the neighbors that some “suits” had come to haul away the wreckage. They said the man was incredibly wealthy—a tech mogul or something similar. Eleanor figured his money would buy him the best recovery possible.
The sound of heavy engines disturbed the quiet. She stood up as two massive black Cadillac Escalades bounced down the dirt track toward her cabin. They looked completely out of place in the mud.
They stopped right in front of her gate. Two men stepped out. One was the flight medic from the helicopter. The other, leaning on a cane and wearing a high-end brace on his leg, was the pilot. Eleanor walked to the gate, her heart thumping.
— Hello, Dr. Vance.
She froze. She hadn’t given them her name, and the locals only knew her as Eleanor.
— Hello. Are you here to serve me with a lawsuit for the “kitchen table” surgery?
The man with the cane smiled warmly:
— Dr. Vance, I’m here to thank you. My doctors made it very clear that I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for you. My name is Robert Sterling.
Eleanor took a breath. She knew that name. Sterling was a major philanthropist and a board member at her old hospital. He was the one who had funded the new surgical wing Richard was so proud of.
— Come in, Mr. Sterling.
She poured them some iced tea. Robert watched her closely.
— I took the liberty of looking into your history, Eleanor.
She looked away:
— I didn’t kill that patient three years ago.
— I know you didn’t. And you should know that your ex-husband is currently under federal investigation. It turns out he was skimming off the hospital’s endowment to fund his mistress’s lifestyle. When they started digging into the finances, the truth about that “malpractice” case came out too. Chloe is facing a license revocation, and Richard is looking at prison time. But that’s not why I’m here.
He leaned forward, his expression turning serious:
— My daughter was in a car accident a year ago. She has a spinal injury that the best surgeons in the country are afraid to touch. I’ve talked to your former colleagues. They all said the same thing: “If Eleanor Vance can’t fix it, nobody can.” My daughter refuses to go to Europe for surgery. She wants to stay here. And I’m asking you—no, I’m begging you—to come back.
Eleanor’s head spun. Robert continued:
— I’ve already cleared your name with the board. There’s a position waiting for you, a penthouse in the city, whatever you need. Please. Save my daughter.
— Robert, I haven’t been in a real OR in three years… I don’t even know the specifics of her case.
Robert handed her a thick folder:
