The injunction hit at 9:02 a.m.
Every operating room screen flashed the notice at once.
TEMPORARY RESTRICTION ORDER — PENDING REVIEWSUBJECT: DR. ELIAS MURPHYLIMITATIONS: SURGICAL PRACTICE SUSPENDED EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY
The hospital froze.
"What?" a nurse whispered.
"That can't be real."
Dr. Lim stared at the screen, disbelief giving way to fury. "They didn't even notify us first."
Glassman slammed his hand on the counter. "They grounded him without evidence."
A resident turned pale. "There are three patients scheduled for surgery today—two of them critical."
Across the hall, Elias read the notice once.
That was all he needed.
"It's legal obstruction," he said calmly. "Not medical."
Lim rounded on him. "You can't operate."
"I can," Elias replied. "I won't."
That stopped her.
"You're… complying?" Glassman asked.
"For now," Elias said evenly. "This is not a battle for a scalpel."
The fallout was immediate.
Patients demanded answers.
Families protested.
Media vans returned in force.
And somewhere deep in the hospital's legal inbox, a response arrived that changed everything.
Laurent-Wu & AssociatesMotion to Intervene — Emergency Jurisdiction Challenge
Lim read the sender's name twice.
"…Who is that?" she asked.
The hospital lawyer's eyes widened. "That's not just a firm. That's the firm."
Glassman frowned. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," the lawyer said slowly, "whoever filed this just picked a fight they can't win."
The courtroom was packed.
Not large. Not public.
But heavy with consequence.
Three judges. Federal jurisdiction. Media barred—but not unaware.
Elias sat calmly at the defense table, hands folded, posture relaxed.
He didn't look concerned.
Across from him, a woman rose.
The room noticed.
She moved with controlled confidence, heels striking the floor in precise rhythm. At six foot one, she stood tall without arrogance, dressed in a tailored suit that matched her calm authority. Her blue eyes were sharp, assessing, and utterly unafraid.
Her presence shifted the air.
"Celeste Laurent-Wu," she said. "Representing San Jose St. Bonaventure Hospital—and Dr. Elias Murphy."
Elias looked up.
For the first time since arriving at the hospital, something new registered.
Interest.
Celeste's gaze flicked to him briefly—not lingering, not curious.
Evaluative.
Then she turned to the bench.
"This injunction," she began calmly, "is unlawful, unethical, and built entirely on fear rather than fact."
Opposing counsel scoffed. "The defendant's abilities are unregulated—"
"Extraordinary," Celeste corrected. "Not unregulated. He is fully licensed."
She paced once—measured, deliberate.
"Not one patient harmed. Not one complication. Not one malpractice claim. In fact," she continued, tapping a file, "every single outcome exceeds existing medical benchmarks."
One of the judges leaned forward. "You're arguing perfection."
Celeste smiled faintly. "No, Your Honor. I'm presenting evidence."
She dismantled the case with surgical precision.
Jurisdiction errors. Procedural violations. Unsupported assumptions.
Every argument against Elias collapsed before it finished forming.
The ruling came fast.
Injunction dissolved. Effective immediately.
The gavel struck.
Game over.
Outside the courtroom, reporters shouted questions the moment doors opened.
Celeste ignored them all.
Elias walked beside her in silence.
"You didn't need to do that," he said calmly.
Celeste glanced at him. "Yes, I did."
"Why?"
She stopped walking.
Turned to face him fully.
Up close, her presence was undeniable—not just beauty, but control. Precision. Authority sharpened by discipline.
"Because someone tried to redefine medicine through fear," she said evenly. "I don't allow that."
Elias studied her carefully.
"You never lose," he observed.
Celeste's lips curved slightly. "Neither do you."
A pause.
Not awkward.
Measured.
Respect settling into place.
"If you ever need legal representation again," she added, "you already have it."
Elias nodded. "Thank you."
She started to walk away, then stopped.
"Oh—and Dr. Murphy?"
"Yes?"
Her blue eyes met his.
"They're going to come at you harder next time."
Elias smiled faintly.
"I look forward to it."
Celeste returned the smile—just as subtle.
Then she was gone.
Back at the hospital, the operating board updated instantly.
Elias' name returned to every case.
Lim exhaled shakily. "That woman…"
Glassman shook his head. "She didn't just win. She humiliated them."
Shaun looked at Elias thoughtfully. "Your ally is statistically formidable."
"Yes," Elias agreed.
"And personally significant?"
Elias paused—just briefly.
"Yes."
That night, Elias returned to the operating room.
The first patient of the reinstated schedule waited nervously.
"Are you really back?" the man asked.
"Yes," Elias said calmly, pulling on gloves. "And we're going to fix this."
Outside, systems adjusted.
Inside, healing resumed.
And somewhere across the city, Celeste Laurent-Wu reviewed the case one last time before closing the file.
She hadn't lost.
She never did.
And for the first time in a very long time, she was genuinely curious about someone who didn't need saving—but changed the rules simply by existing.
End of Chapter 6