Chapter 558:
Their goal was to restore not only the function of Zander’s damaged vocal cords, but also the natural contour of the area, ensuring no trace of injury remained. The work was relentless, stretching on without pause until the hands of the clock pointed to seven in the evening.
The operation was, in Rylie’s estimation, a success. She had implanted repair cells directly into the damaged area; now, it would be up to those living cells to regenerate the injured tissue.
Rory and several senior doctors emerged from the operating room, looking drained, their shoulders sagging under the weight of hours spent in tense concentration. “Shall we grab a…”
“Meal?” Rory asked, rubbing his tired eyes. “After this throat reconstruction, I’m done for the night. My vision’s practically doubling. Dr. Owen, what about you? Let’s eat together.”
Rylie shook her head, her voice even. “I have matters tonight. You all go ahead.” The bidding for Nexus Future was set for eight, leaving no margin for lingering. With a courteous nod that brooked no further persuasion, she parted from Rory and the others. The purr of her motorcycle soon swelled into the night as she sped toward the private styling studio Felix had secured.
With time pressing, she only had a moment to wash away the scent of antiseptic from the operating room and the travel fatigue before stepping into the hands of the waiting professional team. They worked with swift precision, hair and makeup taking shape under confident, practiced motions.
When she finally slipped into the champagne-colored, off-the-shoulder gown Felix had chosen, the mirror reflected a striking transformation. Gone was the cool, unflinching surgeon and bold rider. In her place stood a woman wrapped in quiet luxury, her elegance refined yet edged with the same composure that made her unforgettable.
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Alistair’s call came at the perfect moment. “Miss Owen, the CEO is in a meeting and can’t call you personally, so I’m here to let you know the car he arranged is waiting downstairs. He specifically asked that you take it to the venue.”
Rylie glanced at the sweep of her floor-length gown, the delicate heels completing the look, and allowed a faint smile to touch her lips. “Understood. Please thank him for me.”
Across town, Connie’s mother, Beatrice, paced in restless circles, her bright magenta bodycon dress clinging flawlessly to her frame. A string of perfect pearls rested against her collarbone, trembling faintly as her heels clicked against the polished floor in quick, impatient taps.
Around her, several other parents stood in small clusters—men in immaculately tailored suits, women glittering with diamonds and gemstones—each carrying an air of wealth that could not disguise the undercurrent of unease etched into their expressions.
“What time is it? Why isn’t Zaylee here yet?” Beatrice’s voice was as sharp as the click of her heels, drawing curious looks from others lingering outside without entry credentials. “The event’s about to start! Where are our invitations? She swore she’d get them for us.”
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