Chapter 5: The Anatomy of a Fall
The operating theater at Lascourine Memorial was a cathedral of cold light. At its center lay King Alaric of Belgravia, a man who had once signed a decree to erase Lulan's existence, now reduced to a rhythmic beep on a monitor.
Above, in the observation gallery, Leonard sat behind reinforced glass. He was trapped. To save his father, he had been forced to sign the "Lascourine Accord," effectively surrendering Belgravian legal jurisdiction over Lulan's empire. He watched her now—a silhouette in surgical scrubs, moving with a terrifying, mechanical grace.
"Scalpel," Lulan said.
Her voice was broadcast into the gallery, crisp and devoid of emotion. She wasn't just performing surgery; she was performing a ritual.
The Precision of Revenge
The tumor was a tangled mass entwined with the King's brainstem—the "Kill Zone." One millimeter to the left, and the King would never speak again; one to the right, and his heart would stop.
"The bypass is holding at 120/80 mmHg," Lucian reported from the monitoring station. He was the only "assistant" she trusted to manage the high-frequency neurological feeds. At eleven, his hands didn't shake.
Lulan looked up at the glass, her eyes meeting Leonard's. She knew he was looking for a sign of hesitation. She gave him none.
"I am entering the posterior fossa," she announced. "Leonard, I hope you're watching closely. This is the part where most people fail because they are afraid of the blood. But I've been covered in Belgravian blood before. I find it remarkably easy to clean."
In the gallery, Leonard gripped the armrests of his chair. He turned to his chief advisor. "Can we stop her? If the King dies on her table, we can charge her with—"
"With what?" the advisor whispered, terrified. "You signed the immunity waiver. If he dies, she is protected. If he lives, she owns us. You've put the crown in a velvet vice, Your Highness."
The Silent Coup
While Lulan's hands worked on the King's brain, her other "instruments" were working on the Kingdom.
Downstairs in the hospital's secure data wing, Kael and Elara sat side-by-side. Kael's fingers flew across a haptic keyboard, bypassing the Royal Treasury's secondary encryption.
"Leonard's offshore accounts are active," Kael murmured. "He's trying to move the remaining liquid assets to the Cayman Islands before the King wakes up."
"He thinks he's going to be King by morning," Elara said, her eyes fixed on a separate screen showing the Belgravia news cycle. "He doesn't realize I've already leaked the photos."
"The ones of him at the gambling dens in Macau?"
"And the ones of him signing the Lascourine Accord," Elara added with a ghostly smile. "The Belgravian public loves their King. They won't like seeing their Prince sell the country's sovereignty to a 'Ghost Surgeon' just to cover his own tracks."
The Awakening
Three hours later, the lights in the operating theater dimmed. Lulan stepped away from the table, her scrubs spotless.
"The resection is complete," she said into the comms. "The King will wake up in ten minutes. And Leonard? He'll be very hungry. Prepare the recovery suite."
Lulan met Leonard in the hallway. He looked like a man who had aged ten years in a single night.
"Is he...?"
"He's alive," Lulan said, stripping off her surgical gloves. "And he's lucid. In fact, he's so lucid that I've already taken the liberty of showing him the digital trail of your recent 'investments' while he was under light sedation. It's amazing what the brain can process in a semi-conscious state."
Leonard's eyes widened. "You did what?"
"I'm a doctor, Leonard. I believe in full transparency."
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "The King is waking up to find that his son tried to loot the treasury while he was on his deathbed. He's also waking up to find that I am the only person on earth who can keep him alive for the next ten years. Who do you think he's going to listen to now?"
A nurse hurried down the hall. "Director! The King is asking for you. He's... he's calling for the 'General's Daughter.'"
Lulan brushed past Leonard, her shoulder hitting his with enough force to stagger him. She didn't look back.
"Wait in the lobby, Leonard," she called over her shoulder. "I'll have security bring you a coffee. It's going to be a very long transition of power."
The New Order
Inside the recovery suite, King Alaric looked up as Lulan entered. His voice was a thin rasp, but his eyes were clear.
"You have your father's ruthlessness," the King whispered. "And your mother's face. Why did you save me, Lulan? You could have let the blade slip."
Lulan sat by his bed, crossing her legs with elegant precision. "Because killing you makes you a martyr, Alaric. Keeping you alive makes you my spokesperson."
She handed him a tablet. On the screen was a draft of a Royal Proclamation.
"Sign this. It names me as the Royal Medical Advisor with veto power over the Council. In exchange, I'll ensure your heart keeps beating long enough to see Leonard stripped of his titles."
The King looked at the document, then at the woman who had once been a "middle-class girl" he'd discarded like trash. He took the electronic pen with a trembling hand.
"The blade didn't slip," the King muttered, signing his name. "It just grew longer."
Would you like me to write Chapter 6, where Lulan returns to the Belgravian capital for the first time in years to claim her seat on the Council, only to face a new shadow from her past?