(OPENING SHOT: ST. CATHERINE'S HOSPITAL - PARKING LOT)
Leo killed the engine.
He sat for exactly ten seconds, eyes closed.
"Skill Shift Protocol," he thought.
(MONTAGE FEEL)
The focused, corporate sharpness from the boardroom battle faded. The warm, fatherly pride from the school play softened. The attentive, admiring gaze from the theater vanished.
He opened his eyes.
Now, he was just Leo. The calm, supportive friend. The one who listened.
He walked into the hospital's back entrance, nodding at the staff. They knew him as Dr. Ava Thorne's longtime friend, "Leo." A quiet guy who visited often.
(SOUND: Hospital intercom, distant beeping of monitors)
He found Ava in the surgical wing's observation lounge. She was still in her scrubs, her dark hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. She stared through the glass at an operating room where a team was working on a patient.
Her posture was rigid. This wasn't just a doctor stressed about a case. This was Ava when she was drowning.
"Hey," Leo said, standing beside her.
She didn't look at him. "It's a pediatric aortic dissection. Twelve years old. The odds are… not good."
Her voice was flat. Controlled. But Leo heard the tremor underneath. The master-level MedicalDiagnosisMedicalDiagnosis skill the System had given him years ago instantly activated. He looked at the vitals on the screen, the surgeon's movements.
"They're being too cautious," Leo said softly. "The tear is extending. They need to clamp the proximal aorta now, not wait for another imaging cycle. Every second is scarring."
Ava finally turned to him. Her eyes, usually so sure, were wide with a fear she'd never show her staff. "That's what I saw. I called it in. They said the risk of paralysis was too high with a blind clamp."
"It's not blind. Look at the angiogram shadow, right there." He pointed, his finger tracing a line only a master surgeon would see. "The cleavage plane is clear. They have a three-millimeter window."
She stared at him, a flicker of her old awe showing. "Leo… how do you always see these things? You're not even a doctor."
He'd prepared for this. A lie wrapped in a truth. "I read a lot. And I listen to you. You described a similar case last month, remember?"
It was weak. But in her stress, she accepted it.
"I have to go in," she said suddenly, pulling her surgical mask back up. "I'm taking over. Will you…?"
"I'll be right here," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."
She squeezed his hand—a quick, desperate grip—and rushed into the scrub room.
Leo stood alone, watching through the glass. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it.
"Incoming call: Sophia Sterling," the System announced.
"Silence it."
"She is calling your 'husband' phone. The one reserved for her. Ignoring it may decrease Trust Level below critical threshold."
He cursed inwardly. He pulled out the specific silver phone. He answered, keeping his voice low. "Sophia. I'm in the middle of—"
"You saved me," her voice came, breathless with relief and something else—adrenaline, need. "That line about the EU regulations? Thorn looked like he'd seen a ghost. How did you know?"
"Just a hunch," Leo said, watching Ava scrub in. "I'm glad it worked."
"Where are you? It sounds quiet."
"Server room. The cooling fans are loud." He winced at the lie. "I'm really swamped, Soph. Can I call you tonight?"
A pause. A dangerous pause. "You always say that. And then you're tired. Leo, I need to see you. I need to thank you. I'll come to you. Where's your server site today?"
Panic, cold and sharp, lanced through him. "Alert: Wife Proximity Breach Imminent," the System chimed, its voice urgent.
"No! I mean… it's a secure government-adjacent site. No visitors. Strict protocol. I'm sorry, honey. Tonight. I promise. A proper dinner. Your favorite place."
Another pause. He could feel her disappointment through the phone. It was a physical weight on his chest.
"Okay," she said, the life gone from her voice. "Tonight. Don't forget."
She hung up.
Leo let out a shaky breath. On the other side of the glass, Ava was entering the OR, taking the lead. He watched as she performed the precise, risky clamp he'd described. Her movements were confident now. She was in her element.
He felt a surge of pride. And a gut-wrenching guilt.
His other phone—the one for Chloe, the hacker—lit up with a text.
Chloe: >> Intruder is good. Military-grade spoofing. They're trying to access the "Elysium" server. That's your personal life archive, Leo. The one with the wedding photos. I need you NOW.
His personal life archive. The digital vault that held pictures of eight different weddings. Eight different honeymoons. If that was breached…
(CLOSE-UP: Leo's face, a mask of calm cracking)
He typed with one hand, watching Ava operate with the other.
Leo: >> Deploy "Cereberus" protocol. Isolate Elysium. Make it look like a dummy financial server. Buy me two hours.
Chloe: >> On it. But this is a pro. They'll know it's a decoy fast. Who did you piss off?
Good question.
"System," he thought. "Run a threat analysis. Who would target my personal servers?"
"Processing. Primary suspects: Rival corporations of Sophia Sterling. Rival syndicates of Victoria Cross. Paparazzi networks interested in Isabella Vale. All have motive and capability."
It could be anyone. Because his life was tied to everyone.
Ava's surgery hit a critical point. The monitor alarms blared. The patient's blood pressure plummeted.
Leo's medical knowledge screamed the issue: Tamponade. Bleeding into the pericardium.
He saw Ava hesitate for a split second, calculating.
Without thinking, Leo's hand shot out and hit the intercom button to the OR. His voice, filtered and authoritative, filled the room. "Dr. Thorne. Pericardial window. Now. You're looking at a tamponade."
Every head in the OR, including Ava's, snapped up to the observation window.
He was just a silhouette behind the reflective glass.
Ava didn't question it. She moved. "Scalpel! Suction!"
Leo stepped back from the intercom, heart hammering. That was a mistake. A huge mistake. He'd broken character. He'd used knowledge he shouldn't have.
But he'd saved the patient.
Five intense minutes later, the vitals stabilized. The crisis was over.
Ava looked up at the window again, her expression unreadable.
Leo's phone buzzed again. This time, it was his "sister" phone. The one for his real family.
It was Lily.
He answered. "Lily? What's up?"
"Where's your office again?" she asked, her tone too casual.
"My… office? You know I work from home mostly. The company is based in Silicon Valley."
"Yeah, but you have a local server hub or something, right? For your coding. Mom wants me to drop off lunch for you. She says you looked too skinny this morning."
Ice flooded Leo's veins. Lily was at least thirty minutes from home. She was probing.
"That's sweet, but I'm not at the hub today. I'm… at a client's site. Across town."
"Which client?" she pressed.
"Lily, is everything okay?"
"I just want to see where my big brother works," she said, a challenge in her voice. "It's weird, you know? You've had this awesome job for years, but you never talk about it. You never have coworkers over. It's like your job doesn't exist."
(SOUND: The steady beep of the patient's stabilizing heart monitor from the OR)
Leo's mind raced. His sister was smart. Curious. And she'd just seen him mutter about "schedule breaches." She was connecting dots that could burn his whole world down.
"It's just boring server stuff, Lil. I'll be home for dinner. Tell Mom I'll eat extra."
He hung up before she could ask more.
He leaned his forehead against the cool glass. The strain was a constant ache behind his eyes.
"System. Status."
>> WIFE TRUST LEVELS:
>> AVA: 95% (RISING)
>> SOPHIA: 80% (DECLINING)
>> EMMA: 90% (STABLE)
>> LILY KIM (SISTER) SUSPICION LEVEL: 45% (RISING)
>> OVERALL RISK OF BREACH: HIGH.
The surgery ended successfully. Ava came out of the OR, exhaustion and triumph warring on her face. She walked straight to him and, without a word, hugged him tightly.
"You were my good luck charm," she whispered into his shoulder. "And that tip… you were right. You always are."
He held her, smelling antiseptic and her shampoo. This was real. This love was real.
His phone buzzed in his pocket again. And again. Different rhythms. Different wives.
The System spoke, its voice not in his head, but through his hidden earpiece, a tone of… curiosity.
"Leo. A question."
"Not now, System."
"It is relevant. You just used a master skill to save a life, violating your 'non-doctor' cover. You lied to Sophia to protect your location. You are deceiving your sister. All to maintain the current equilibrium. The emotional and logical strain is immense."
"I know," he gritted out, smiling softly at Ava as she pulled back.
"Then why continue? The optimal solution is to choose one. The rules do not force you to maintain all eight. The rules only forbid revealing them."
The question hit him like a physical blow. Because the System was learning. It was no longer just pointing out inefficiencies. It was questioning his core.
Ava looked up at him. "You okay? You look pale."
"Just hungry," he lied, for the ten-thousandth time.
"Let's get lunch," she said. "The cafeteria. My treat."
He couldn't. Eleanor, the judge, was waiting for her lunch "confidant" in 20 minutes. Chloe needed him online. Mia needed help with her proposal.
He opened his mouth to give another excuse.
And then he saw it. Over Ava's shoulder, down the long hospital corridor.
A familiar figure. Wearing a bright yellow jacket, holding a paper bag, looking lost and determined.
Lily.
His sister had followed him.
Her eyes scanned the signs, then locked onto him. They widened in confusion. Then darted to Ava, still in her scrubs, holding Leo's arm.
(SLOW MOTION: LILY'S FACE)
Confusion. What is he doing at a hospital?
Recognition. He's with a woman. A doctor?
Suspicion. He said he was at a client's site.
(CLOSE-UP: LEO'S FACE)
Pure, undiluted terror.
The world narrowed to the hallway between them. The secret of his life hung in the balance, not with a rival or a hacker, but with his curious little sister holding a bag of their mother's sandwiches.
Ava followed his gaze. "Do you know her?"
Lily started walking toward them.
(SOUND: Footsteps echoing on linoleum.)
"Leo," the System's voice was calm, analytical. "This is a direct proximity breach between 'Family' and 'Wife 3: Ava.' You have approximately 15 seconds to construct a viable narrative. Probability of success: 32%. Would you like me to generate a lie?"
Leo's mind, powered by a trillion-dollar System and nine years of desperate deception, went blank.
He had 15 seconds.
14.
13.
Lily was getting closer.
The cliffhanger was here.