Night settled over New York City without ceremony.
The glow of First Star Hospital stood out against the darkened skyline, its lights steady and bright, a promise of safety that meant different things to different people. Inside, the atmosphere had shifted. What had once been quiet and controlled now carried urgency.
The moment the doctor stepped back into the VIP ward, his expression changed.
"Get the nurses," he ordered sharply.
Several nurses rushed in at once. The sheets beneath the unconscious girl were stained dark, the air heavy with a strange, unpleasant smell that did not belong in a hospital room.
"Sedate her," the doctor said. "Now."
A syringe was prepared quickly. The medication flowed into her vein, and within seconds, her already shallow breathing slowed further, her body sinking into forced unconsciousness.
They moved fast.
The bed was replaced, the soiled one pushed aside and wheeled out. The girl was transferred carefully and taken through sterile corridors into a specialized operating bathroom—a room designed for extreme medical cases.
At the center of the room stood a large transparent tub, already filled with clear water.
She was lowered into it gently.
As the water washed over her skin, the black residue began to dissolve and separate, drifting away in thin, dark trails before dispersing completely. Nurses worked in silence, focused and tense, scrubbing and cleaning until not a trace of the substance remained on her body.
The doctor watched closely.
When they finished, he conducted a full examination.
Her pulse was steady.
Her breathing even.
Her skin—unblemished.
In fact, it looked… better than before.
Almost luminous.
"There's nothing wrong," the doctor murmured, frowning slightly as he checked her again. "She's perfectly fine."
Still, something about it unsettled him.
Before leaving the room, he collected samples—water from the tub, residue from the sheets—and sealed them carefully before sending them to the lab for analysis.
She was moved once more, this time into a new, clean VIP room.
Meanwhile, outside the ward, Crystal and Henry waited.
Henry Sinclair stood out immediately.
Dressed in a tailored suit, his black hair tied neatly into a ponytail, he looked every bit the powerful businessman he was known to be. His expression was carefully blank—but only on the surface.
He paced.
Back and forth.
Again and again.
Crystal noticed.
It was strange to see the head of the Sinclair family like this—restless, uncertain. For a moment, an almost bitter smile touched her lips.
She stopped herself immediately.
What is wrong with me?
Why am I smiling when my daughter is fighting for her life?
Crystal closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing her thoughts back into place. When she opened them again, she looked toward the ward door, waiting.
The doctor finally emerged.
Both Henry and Crystal turned at once.
He sighed before speaking. "Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair—"
Crystal opened her mouth to correct him.
Henry spoke first.
"Doctor," he said, his voice firm, "what happened to her? And that substance—what was coming out of her body?"
The doctor rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"We don't know yet," he admitted. "We've sent samples to the lab. As for your daughter… there's nothing medically wrong with her."
Henry stiffened. "Nothing?"
"She's stable," the doctor continued. "Her vitals are normal. Her skin is healthy—glowing, even. We'll continue monitoring her, but for now, everything appears normal."
"And the substance?" Crystal asked quietly.
"We'll have results by tomorrow," the doctor said. "Once we know more, we'll inform you immediately."
With that, he excused himself and walked away.
Neither of them spoke for a long moment.
Elsewhere in the hospital, something far more dangerous was unfolding.
A group of people entered through different entrances.
One man carried a small case.
Another checked himself in as a patient.
Two more slipped into nurse uniforms they had stolen earlier.
Their movements were precise.
Outside, a plain white van sat parked discreetly along the street. Inside, multiple screens displayed live feeds from the hospital's CCTV system.
The cameras had already been compromised.
Every hallway, every room—visible.
Inside the hospital, the man with the case entered an empty room and changed quickly into a doctor's coat. He concealed the compact pistol beneath it, the silencer fitted and ready.
He tapped the earpiece hidden behind his ear.
"We have confirmation," he said calmly. "She's in the hospital. Fan out and find her."
The city lights flickered outside.
Inside First Star Hospital, fate moved quietly through white corridors.
And somewhere behind closed doors, a girl slept unaware of how much are life was changing around her.