Chapter 89
Katherine was already out of her chair when Irene entered the office holding out a thick folder.
Fresh off the printer,” she announced. “All the post–op results.”
Irene dropped into a chair and flipped through the pages, brain automatically sifting important details from medical background noise. The skill came from years of practice–knowing exactly what mattered and what didn’t.
Katherine perched on the desk edge, arms crossed. “Multiple damage sites around the joints. Nerves are a mess. Most doctors are saying even with another surgery, he might never race again.”
Irene set the report down, unfaxed. She’d felt the damage firsthand yesterday, known exactly what she was dealing with while her gloved hands navigated Brandon’s injured leg. Where other doctors w career–ending trauma, she saw a challenging but solvable puzzle.
Her mind already mapped out a treatment plan—the surgery had just laid groundwork. What Brandon needed now was her specialized therapy, followed by targeted rehabilitation exercises. Under her care, he’d be back on the racing circuit within a year.
Adam’s face flashed unexpectedly in her thoughts. His situation paralleled Brandon’s in many ways–though Adam’s condition had festered too long before treatment began. Brandon had the advantages of immediate intervention and less extensive damage. His recovery would come faster.
create a custom treatment plan,” Irene said, tapping the folder. Give me a couple days to work out the specifics.”
Katherine grinned. “I’ll tell administration.” Her eyes shone with complete confidence. “They’re expecting the impossible. Good thing that’s your specialty.”
For the next hour, Irene guided the hospital team through her approach, maintaining her Dr. Joy persona throughout. She outlined the therapy process without mentioning she performed nearly identical treatments on Adam daily. Her demeanor stayed professional and assured–worlds away from the exhausted woman who’d nodded off during Adam’s treatment the night before.
When the meeting concluded, Irene had the entire medical team nodding along with her plan, though none truly grasped the unique qualification that allowed her to design it.
“Forward all scan results to my office,” she instructed, gathering her notes. “And I want daily progress reports, especially for the first week.”
The hospital director practically bounced with eagerness. “Of course, Dr. Joy. Absolutely anything you need.”
Glancing at her watch, Irene realized her grandfather had been waiting nearly an hour. She ducked into a private staff bathroom, quickly adjusting her appearance to transition from Dr. Joy back to Irene Sterling–removing the subtle changes that helped maintain her separate identity.
When Irene slipped back into Brandon’s room, the dynamic had shifted. Rose now hovered closer to the bed, while Anna had migrated to the window. Henry, Brandon’s assistant, had arrived and was setting up a laptop nearby.
Irene moved straight to Joseph. “Ready to head home, Grandfather?”
Nathan cleared his throat pointedly, disapproval radiating from him like heat from asphalt.
“That’s it?” he demanded. “Your brother’s lying here after major surgery, and you don’t have a single word for him?”
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Chapter 89
Irene’s eyebrows lifted slightly. The expectation seemed laughable considering their non–existent relationship. Did he honestly think she’d suddenly play devoted sister after years of mutual indifference
“Oh, she responded, the single syllable perfectly conveying her complete lack of interest in family theater.
Rose’s cheeks flushed an unflattering shade of red. John’s jaw tightened, while Anna looked ready to launch into a rehearsed speech about family values. But before anyone could speak, Brandon cut through the tension.
“I heard you studied medicine,” he said casually, though his eyes were anything but casual as they locked onto Irene’s face. ‘Got any professional tips for my recovery?”
The question dangled in the air–simple on the surface but loaded underneath. Brandon watched her with the focused intensity that had made him a championship racer, catching every micro–expression that crossed her face.
Henry’s attention shifted too, his usual cheerful demeanor suddenly watchful. The atmosphere thickened as Brandon waited for her
answer.
Irene felt the subtle shift immediately. This wasn’t idle conversation it was a carefully laid trap. Something in Brandon’s eyes, in the deliberate way he’d phrased the question, told her he was fishing for a connection between Irene Sterling and Dr. Joy.
He knows, flashed through her mind like a warning light. Or at least, he suspects.
Time seemed to stretch as she considered her options. Too much medical knowledge would confirm his suspicions; too little would seem evasive. Either way, Brandon was watching her like a hawk.
Professional racers developed almost supernatural observation skills they had to read intentions in the slightest shift of a competitor’s car, anticipate moves before they happened, spot opportunities in milliseconds. Brandon was using those same skills on her now, looking for the tiny tells that would confirm what he already suspected.
This was pure Brandon Sterling–taking a calculated risk with potentially massive consequences. The perfect gamble for a man who’d built his career on split–second decisions at 200 miles per hour.
Irene’s practiced surgical calm settled over her as she weighed her response. She could brush it off casually. She could overwhelm him with technical jargon that would satisfy his family but reveal nothing. Or she could face this challenge head–on, neither confirming nor denying his suspicions.
Joseph watched the silent exchange between his grandchildren, weathered face impassive while his eyes missed nothing. Whatever game they were playing, he understood the stakes better than anyone.
Every instinct Irene had developed as Dr. Joy screamed at her to maintain the separation between her identities. That wal! had allowed her to save the career of a brother who’d never been part of her life–who didn’t even know it was her hands that had repaired his damaged leg.
Yet something about Brandon’s direct challenge stirred an unexpected response. Perhaps it was professional recognizing professional–the surgeon in her acknowledging the racer in him, two experts who understood what it meant to perform under
pressure.
As everyone waited, Irene stood at a crossroads. Her next words would either reinforce the wall between her identities or create the first crack in a façade she’d maintained for years. The choice wasn’t just about answering Brandon–it was about which path she would choose going forward.
The silence stretched tight as a wire while Irene made her decision.
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Genius Kids‘ Scheme: Claiming Daddy’s Billionaire Empire
