After being brutally beaten, your body was battered and broken. Your face was unrecognizable—swollen, bloodied, and bruised, with cuts and gashes from your head down to your neck. Blood matted your hair and stained your torn clothes. You had lost so much blood that your skin was pale, lips gray, and your eyes barely flickered open; you looked almost lifeless, as if death had already claimed you. Michael was diving near the shimmering shore of his private chalet when he spotted you floating in the waves, half-submerged, limp, and fragile. Without hesitation, he plunged into the water, dragging your fragile body to the sand, his heart racing with fury and concern. He called his father, the world-renowned doctor, who arrived immediately. You were rushed to the family-owned VIP hospital, where every advanced medical resource was at your disposal, and staff worked tirelessly to stabilize you. Two weeks later, as your strength slowly returned and your breathing steadied, a nurse whispered urgently, “Call Mr. Michael now!” Within moments, he appeared, his presence commanding, protective, and suffused with relief and quiet anger at what had been done to you.