Late winter light filtered through the penthouse's floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the marble floors in pale gold. Ivy Shen stepped into the master suite's en‑suite bathroom—her “private sanctuary," as Mei called it—and eased off her silk blouse. A narrow mirror above the marble sink revealed gaunt cheeks and dark circles under her eyes. The incision scar on her right flank still stood out, pink and tender, the souvenir of her liver segment donation two weeks prior.
She drew in a breath and turned the water on. As the steam rose, she watched her reflection carefully. The doctors had warned: “Untreated, your cardiac fissure could worsen." Yet she refused to let this visit to the hospital consume her thoughts. She had work to do.
Dressed in a cream cashmere sweater and tailored slacks,
