Fake Daughter Is The Real Legend (Iris Sutton) novel Chapter 4

The butler immediately stepped on the accelerator again.

With a thunderous roar, the battered sedan shot out of the estate like a rocket.

Once they reached the main road, the butler glanced at Iris through the rearview mirror.

“Miss, don’t take tonight to heart,” he said gently. “A family like that isn’t worth your feelings.”

Iris nodded calmly.

She had stopped caring a long time ago.

“It’s true that the Noir family originally came from Ashford County,” the butler explained proudly. “But your grandfather built the business from nothing, and your father expanded it even further. The family moved to Crown Heights Estate in the capital years ago.”

He grinned.

“Once you arrive there, even if you walk upside down in the middle of the street, nobody would dare criticize you.”

That finally earned a faint smile from Iris.

As she glanced at the date displayed on her phone, something suddenly came to mind.

“Uncle Walter,” she said, “can you take me to St. Grace Medical Center first?”

The butler instantly tensed.

“What’s wrong, Miss? Are you feeling unwell?”

“No.” Iris shook her head. “A friend asked me to come by. Something urgent came up.”

Only then did he relax.

“Of course. We’ll be passing the hospital anyway.”

...

The conference room at St. Grace Medical Center was completely silent.

On one side of the long table sat the hospital director and several senior executives in expensive suits. Though they appeared composed on the surface, anxiety lingered beneath their calm expressions.

Two copies of a contract rested neatly on the table.

One side bore the name:

Lytton Pharmaceuticals.

As the first pharmaceutical company in the country to successfully develop medication for cystic fibrosis, Lytton Pharmaceuticals had become one of the most influential companies in the medical field. St. Grace Medical Center had spent months fighting for this partnership.

And now, they were only waiting for the representative to sign.

At exactly one o’clock in the afternoon, the conference room doors opened.

Escorted by the director’s assistant, Iris walked inside.

The moment the executives saw her, several of them froze in shock.

A young girl?

Iris ignored their reactions completely.

She sat down across from them, flipped directly to the final page of the contract, and signed her name without hesitation.

The entire process took less than thirty seconds.

A multi-million-dollar partnership had just been finalized by a teenage girl with terrifying efficiency.

Iris calmly set the pen down and looked toward the hospital director with a polite smile.

“Director Hayes,” she said, “I still have somewhere else to be, so I’ll take my leave first. We can discuss the remaining details another time.”

Director Hayes finally relaxed, the tension leaving his face.

“Of course,” he said warmly. “Safe travels, Miss Noir.”

—

The floor below the conference room connected directly to the VIP patient wing.

The area was usually quiet because the patients staying there were either extremely wealthy or highly influential.

Nobody dared cause trouble there.

Iris had just stepped off the elevator when she saw several doctors and nurses rushing a little girl—around seven or eight years old—toward the operating room.

“The patient is experiencing severe arrhythmia!” Dr. Lang shouted urgently. “Classic congenital heart disease symptoms! She needs surgery immediately!”

The hospital bed had barely cleared the doorway before a slender figure stepped in front of it.

Iris stared at the unconscious girl.

Her face was pale, her breathing uneven.

“She doesn’t have congenital heart disease,” Iris said coldly. “It’s Anderson-Fabry disease.”

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