Chapter 2

Zoey's left hand gripped the attacker's wrist, while the tip of her pen pressed against his throat.

The sunlight glinted off the pen; a slight push would end his life.

"First," she adjusted her glasses, "your friend died of a heart attack."

"Second," the pen tip drew blood, "you ruined my lunch."

On the ground lay her squashed sandwich, the cream filling mixed with dirt, which only worsened her mood.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got, and she applied more pressure.

The man screamed, threatening, "If you hurt me, my friends won't let you off!"

"Are you done?" Zoey's expression was blank as she increased the pressure.

"Done...!" The thug didn't understand why she asked, but instinctively answered.

With a crisp crack, his wrist twisted at an unnatural angle.

The remaining men froze, but their mouths kept running:

"Zoey, you killed someone and still dare to be an intern here, shameless!"

"The King family was right to cut ties with someone like you!"

The pen flew from her hand, grazing the speaker's neck and embedding in the wall.

Zoey glanced at her watch. "Annoying."

The distant sound of the class bell rang, and she muttered as she walked away, "The professor's going to scold me again..."

Third floor of the medical school, surgical demonstration room.

Alexander stood at the back of the classroom, his gaze fixed on Zoey at the center of the stage, a playful smile on his lips.

Zoey had already recognized him as the talkative man she had dumped by the dumpster.

"Suture tension at 0.5 Newtons, stitch spacing at 2 inches." Her voice was as calm as reading instructions. "Avoid damaging the coronary artery."

Alexander suddenly remembered that night, her precise technique as she stitched his mangled wound.

When the anesthesia wore off, the pain made him break out in a cold sweat, and Zoey had stuffed a piece of gauze in his mouth: "Bite down, and don't make a sound."

As the class ended, Alexander and his bodyguards blocked the exit.

"Don't you think you owe me an explanation for dumping me by the dumpster?"

Zoey removed her gloves. "You talked too much, it was distracting."

Oliver gasped.

The last person who spoke to Alexander like that was already in the ground.

Alexander smiled. "I think you know who I am."

Zoey looked at him coldly. "I knew, and I still dumped you."

What a stubborn woman!

The room fell silent.

Everyone knew Alexander was the head of the Garcia Group, the youngest and most ruthless in the business world.

But Zoey's attitude was as indifferent as dealing with a stranger.

Alexander wasn't angry; instead, he was intrigued. "Your stitching technique isn't something taught in medical school."

"Practice makes perfect, after stitching up enough animals."

Alexander caught the veiled insult, chuckling, he pulled a gold-embossed card from his suit pocket, placing it on the edge of the dissection table:

"I'm here to repay you."

"Not interested." Zoey didn't even look. "I have money."

"It's not about money." Alexander leaned closer, whispering in her ear, "I can help you find out who wants you dead."

Zoey finally looked at him:

"You should be more concerned about who you pissed off."

She pushed open the door of the room. "After all, I only saved you on a whim; next time, I might not."

Alexander watched her walk away, the smile on his face growing wider.

Oliver asked nervously, "Mr. Garcia, should we follow her?"

"Plant a tracker." He rubbed the bloodstains on the dissection table. "Make sure she doesn't notice."

The next morning, a package appeared on Alexander's desk.

The tracker on the black collar was still blinking, next to a note: [To the rightful owner.]

"Mr. Garcia!" Oliver burst in. "The tracking signal shows it's in this building..."

He stopped mid-sentence, staring wide-eyed at the collar on the desk.

Alexander suddenly laughed, his fingers tracing the handwriting on the note.

Oliver felt a chill down his spine.

Zoey was definitely the first person to dare to toy with Alexander like this.

What was even more terrifying was that Alexander, the always vengeful one, now sparkled with interest in his eyes.

In the morning, Zoey had just pushed open the lab door when two police officers stopped her.

"Ms. King, we would like to ask you some questions about the fight that happened in the alley behind the medical school last Friday night," one of the officers said, flashing his badge.

Whispers spread around them.

Zoey was infamous at the medical school, rumored to have a knack for violence, though her colleagues who knew her thought she was just distant.

She did have a fascination with dissecting bodies, but who at the medical school hadn't dissected a body?

She just had a habit of meticulously examining the organs she removed during the process.

"Got it," Zoey replied calmly, following the officers out.

At the police station.

The dean of the medical school rushed in, immediately launching into a tirade.

"What did you promise me? You said you wouldn't act impulsively and hurt anyone again. Now you're not only suspected of murder but are also causing trouble outside the school!"

"Do you know who those people you fought with are? They come from influential families! There were no cameras in that alley, but the police investigation shows you were the only one there at the time."

The dean grew more agitated.

"I finally understand why the King family disowned you. You're too dangerous."

"Mr. King will be here soon. You'd better explain yourself clearly. I've already drafted your dismissal notice. We can't let you drag the entire medical school down with you."

Zoey's expression remained indifferent, showing no emotion.

Five minutes later, her biological father, Aiden King, stormed in and slapped her without a word first.

"How much more trouble are you going to bring to the King family?!"