Blurb：
When Colette Vance suffers a ruptured cranial aneurysm, only her sister, the brilliant surgeon Evelyn Reed, can save her using her revolutionary Micro-Dissection Technique. But as Dr. Julian Croft and parents Richard and Marianne Reed beg for her help, Evelyn reveals a devastating secret: her legendary "Hand of God" now has a fatal essential tremor. Buried beneath the medical crisis is a deeper family drama—Evelyn, the true heiress, was replaced by Colette for eighteen years. Now, with ninety minutes to live, can Colette survive Evelyn's resentment and a career-ending tremor? Dive into a high-stakes story of betrayal, duty, and a surgeon's impossible choice.Content：
The moment my sister, Colette Vance, was rushed into the emergency room, her cranial aneurysm ruptured and bleeding, I was in my office, calmly practicing a basic suture on a surgical simulator.On the screen, the robotic arm threaded the needle with flawless precision, a perfect, sterile work of art.
Minutes later, my fiancé, Dr. Julian Croft, threw open the door.
He was shouting, his voice ragged with panic. "Evelyn! Colette is critical. Only your Micro-Dissection Technique can save her. The entire department is waiting for you! We have less than ninety minutes!"
He stared at me, his eyes wide with pleading hope.
I was the only person in the country capable of performing a surgery of this complexity. My hands had been famously nicknamed "The Hand of God."
But I just gave a faint "Hm," and continued to manipulate the model.
My parents, Richard and Marianne Reed, burst in moments later, a storm of frantic energy. My mother grabbed my arm, her voice a strangled sob.
"Evelyn! That's your sister! How can you just sit there and watch her die?"
I gently pulled my arm free and held out my right hand for them to see.
This hand, the one that had performed countless medical miracles, was trembling. A fine, almost imperceptible tremor, but a fatal one for a surgeon at my level.
"Unfortunately, as of yesterday, I've developed symptoms of an essential tremor. Dad, Mom," I said, my voice flat. "This hand is finished."
The air in the room froze.
The expressions on their three faces morphed into sheer, unadulterated shock.
They stared at my right hand, at the slight but deadly tremor that was a death sentence for a top surgeon's career.
My mother's lips quivered. "How... how could this happen? You were fine yesterday! Are you just overworked?"
"The cause is unknown," I said, retracting my hand and burying it deep in the pocket of my white coat. "Perhaps it's fate."
"Fate?" My father's brow furrowed, his tone laced with reprimand. "Evelyn, stop talking nonsense! Are you... are you still holding a grudge against us?"
I said nothing, my gaze returning to the simulator.
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