She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 275

Almost no one had ever seen SaintHealer’s face. Everyone she agreed to meet was required to keep her identity confidential.

Loyce stood and answered in fluent Spanish, “That’s me. Let’s go.”

The two men exchanged a look. You could see the doubt in their eyes. She looked like a minor—far too young.

Loyce glanced at the time on her phone. “Move it. I don’t have all day.”

The dark web was full of monsters and miracles. After a quick mental calculation, the men decided the odds of a girl trying to scam them were low. They were taking her onto their turf. If she wasn’t SaintHealer, she’d pay a brutal price.

“This way, ma’am.” They escorted her onto a private jet.

On board, Loyce opened her laptop and continued writing code for a new all-in-one emergency medical device designed for naval use.

Now and then, someone from the crew would “casually” pass by to peek at her screen. All they really saw were her fingers flying and streams of green letters and numbers scrolling upward—impressive and incomprehensible.

What convinced them even more was that she didn’t sleep the entire night. She coded straight through until dawn. Only when the plane had two hours left did she ask the attendant to make up a bed and take a light nap.

Lucian didn’t see her missed call until the next morning. He immediately called back. After a few rings, she answered.

His voice was rough with fatigue. “I was up all night with strategic deployment. Didn’t have my phone. You saw the news?”

Loyce’s voice, half-asleep, came out soft—like warm sugar melting. Nothing like her usual tone. “Mm… I saw it…”

That drawn-out ending, drowsy and airy, brushed Lucian’s nerves in a way that made his breathing slow without permission. His cold, stern features softened instantly. Even his voice dropped. “Did I wake you?”

Loyce hummed unconsciously and rubbed her cheek against the pillow. “What is it?”

Loyce nodded and walked in.

A sickly middle-aged man reclined on a sofa with support pillows propping him up. Medical monitors sat beside him, tracking his vitals constantly.

Laurence looked terrible, but he still presented himself with the best dignity he could muster. “Miss, forgive the lack of welcome.”

For an old Godfather, he was unnervingly composed. He didn’t so much as blink at her age, only offered respect. One glance and Loyce understood why this man could work with Hank.

“I’ve read your records,” she said. “My time is limited. Prepare a proper operating room. I’ll write out the equipment and instruments your team needs. Surgery in three days.”

One of the medical consultants beside him immediately snapped, “Absolutely not. Mr. Laurence’s condition can’t handle surgery on short notice. If you rush him onto a table, he’ll die. What are you trying to do?”

He glared at her. “Are you really some kind of brilliant doctor? You don’t even understand the basics!”