She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 279

She opened a specialized cooler. Inside lay a heart. It was one Laurence had secured long ago—same blood type, from a car-crash donor declared brain-dead. A rare stroke of luck.

But because the surgery hadn’t been possible at the time, it had been frozen too long. Fine crystals coated its surface; the longer it stayed preserved, the higher the risk it would fail.

The lead surgeon’s voice shook. “It’s lost too much viability… the success rate is low. Can this work?”

“With Frost Peppermint powering the body,” Loyce cut in, “if it connects, it lives.”

And she began. The transplant happened so fast it felt unreal. When she sutured the final vessel, the room held its breath.

Then the monitor went flat with a dead, steady tone.

Loyce checked the clock. Then she looked at the heart. Slowly, color seeped into it. The monitor twitched—irregular, uncertain.

Everyone stared, wide-eyed, until the heart suddenly kicked hard, a strong rhythm surging back. The waveform snapped into clean, powerful beats.

“Oh my God…” a nurse whispered, hand over her mouth. “We did it. His vitals are stable—continue!”

After the heart, everything else became “easier.” But what Loyce considered easy kept rewriting the team’s understanding of medicine. The room filled again and again with the same stunned murmurs.

“So that’s how you do it.”

“I never even thought of that…”

The surgery ran from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m.—ten hours. Even the assistants were shaking with fatigue. When the last abdominal incision was closed, the room finally exhaled.

“It’s done,” someone said, voice unsteady with relief.

The anesthesiologist checked the readings. “He’ll wake within half an hour.”

Loyce nodded. After confirming the oxygen line was stable, she fed Laurence one more pill.

Then she pulled a white sheet over him and adjusted a machine beside the bed. The alarms shrieked.

Calmly, Loyce poured a bag of blood across the sheet, letting it soak in like a fresh catastrophe. She sent the medical advisor a voice recording on his phone.

“Don’t open it until the Godfather arrives,” she said. “Then we start. Perform well, and I’ll give you an extra set of surgical notes—full technique manual.”

The team exchanged looks, then collectively summoned the best acting of their lives.

He crushed down the surge of joy in his chest, forced his face into grief, and whipped around, screaming at the team. “What are you doing standing there? Save him! Save him! If my father dies, I’ll bury every last one of you!”

The medical advisor dropped to his knees with a thud, pointing at Loyce. “It’s her! This is her fault! We said Mr. Laurence wasn’t a surgical candidate. She insisted, and the Godfather agreed, so we had no choice but to assist!”

Antonio bellowed, “My father didn’t understand his own body? Why would he agree?”

Another doctor spoke up, voice small. “Because… the Godfather said he trusted her…”

“Hank?” Antonio’s head snapped toward Loyce, eyes vicious. “Did you and Hank plan this together?”

Loyce stumbled back, “terrified,” but two brutes seized her arms.

Antonio rolled closer, shaking fingers reaching beneath Laurence’s nose.

Nothing.

His mouth tried to lift. He forced it down. Then he let out a broken sound. “Dad…”