Chapter 64

Chapter 64

Every trace of Philip's usual charm had evaporated. He stormed into Sophie's office, eyes blazing. "Sophie, you played me!"

Sophie, by contrast, was perfectly composed. She looked up at him, her voice unhurried. "Played you how, exactly? What is it I'm supposed to have done?"

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk and propping her chin in one hand, letting a slow, dawning expression cross her face—as if the answer had just occurred to her. "Oh, wait. I think I get it. You're upset because I didn't end up as the staff nurse you arranged for me. I ended up above you. Is that it? Or is it the research project? The one that just got handed to me instead of staying with you?" She tilted her head. "Did that sting enough to send you running in here?"

The calm in her eyes only fanned Philip's fury higher. "Medicine isn't some game you get to play when the mood strikes you," he snapped. "Saving lives isn't a joke. Don't you dare use whatever dirty tricks you pulled to drag this profession through the mud."

His gaze turned arctic as he looked down at her. "Here's my advice—take off that white coat and go back to being a nurse. Out of respect for the fact that we're both Riveras, I'll make sure you get through your probationary period without any trouble. You'll walk away with your nursing certification, no harm done."

His voice dropped, the warning unmistakable. "But if you keep pushing this, I won't hesitate to do what needs to be done to protect this family's reputation. I will not let someone like you embarrass the Rivera name."

In Philip's mind, there was only one logical explanation: Sophie had bought herself a prestigious title. She had no real medical training—she was a fraud playing dress-up in a white coat, gambling with patients' lives. That was an insult to everything he'd worked for, and he refused to tolerate it.

"Someone like me?"

Sophie laughed—a quiet, unhurried sound.

She rose to her feet, meeting Philip's gaze directly. "Dr. Rivera, my hiring went through Dr. Bailey personally. You know better than anyone what kind of man he is. Do you honestly believe Dr. Bailey would put Whitmore Medical Center's reputation on the line for a backroom deal?" She paused, letting that land. "Next time you come in here looking for a fight, at least bring an argument that holds up. Otherwise people might start thinking everyone in the Rivera family is an idiot—and that really would be bad for our reputation."

Philip's face went rigid.

He still didn't believe it—not fully. He needed to go straight to Dr. Bailey and get the truth out of him. He turned to leave, jaw tight.

"Philip."

Sophie's voice stopped him at the door.

He looked back.

"How about a competition? Phase one of the Type A aortic dissection surgical trial." She came around the desk toward him. "It's your project. You know it better than anyone. Unless you're not confident enough to go up against me?"

Philip let out a short, contemptuous laugh. "Compete with an amateur? I'd be lowering myself."

"So you're scared."

"Scared?" The word came out clipped and sharp. "I could beat you without breaking a sweat."

Sophie didn't take the bait—she simply smiled. "Then it shouldn't be a problem." She reached into the folder on her desk and produced a document, holding it out to him. "Since we're both so confident, we might as well make it interesting. Thirty percent of your Rivera Group shares. That's the stake."

Philip went still. "What did you just say?"

"If I lose," Sophie continued, her tone measured, "the research project goes back to you—all of it. I'll personally convince Dr. Bailey to reinstate you as sole decision-maker for every phase of the trial. I'll also reach out to the top names in the field and get them on your team." She let that sink in before continuing. "And if you lose, you sell me your thirty percent stake in Rivera Group at full market value. You keep the money—use it however you want, including funding your research going forward. Either way, you come out ahead. So—are you in?"

Philip didn't touch the document. He wasn't stupid. Sophie's promises about bringing in top-tier talent sounded absurd—every serious expert in Type A aortic dissection surgery was already on his team. He was the standard-bearer in this field. There was no one above him.

Or so he believed.

Sophie seemed to read his thoughts. "You might think your team represents the pinnacle of this specialty," she said. "But there was someone working on this long before you were—someone whose skill level you haven't come close to matching."

Philip's expression shifted.

"Are you talking about..." His voice was careful, almost reluctant. "Dr. Mike?"

Sophie tucked the document into his hands. "So you've heard of him."

A beat of silence.

Dr. Mike. The name carried weight that few others did in Philip's world. The surgeon was a legend—a ghost, almost. Philip had spent years following his work: the impossible cases brought back from the brink, the surgical techniques no one else had attempted. He'd seen the footage—grainy clips of a figure in scrubs and a surgical mask, fully covered, identity concealed. No name. No face. No background that anyone had ever managed to uncover, despite Philip's considerable resources.

But the results were real. The lives saved were real. And if there was a single person on earth whose ability Philip genuinely respected, it was Dr. Mike.

If Dr. Mike joined his team—

Philip set the document down on the desk. "Getting Dr. Mike to show up," he said flatly. "That's a bold claim, Sophie. Think carefully before you start making promises you can't keep."

He didn't care about the shares. But he wasn't about to be manipulated, either.

"Whether I can deliver or not—you'll only find out if you agree." Sophie's voice softened slightly, and she stepped closer. "Philip. Those shares are just sitting there. They're not doing you any good. But if thirty percent of Rivera Group is what it costs to bring Dr. Mike onto your team and cement your standing in this field—" She let the thought finish itself. "I think you already know the answer."

She had said exactly what he'd been thinking.

He didn't admit it. Instead, he crossed his arms. "I want one more condition. If you lose—on top of everything you've already offered—you stop running. Wherever I am, you stay close."

Sophie blinked.

Of all the things she'd expected him to say, that wasn't it. She studied him for a moment, searching his expression for the angle. Whatever his reasoning was, she wasn't particularly worried.

"Fine," she said. "Deal. Give phase one your best shot, Philip—I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do."

She had him sign the agreement on the spot, then handed him his copy. He folded it without a word and tucked it into his jacket.

He was almost out the door when he paused, his back still half-turned.

"You and Matthew," he said. "Is it really over?"