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I was Chiara Sullivan, the world's top miracle doctor known as Ghost Hand. To repay a debt of gratitude, I married Jackson Lewis, a man in a coma. Three years later, he woke up. But his first move was to get his true love, Yolanda Lynch, pregnant and kick me out with nothing. His mother, Leila, slammed the divorce papers in my face. "You barren woman, get out. Don't stand in the way of us having a grandson." I signed and said calmly, "Don't come begging me later. Without me, his legs will fail in three days." Leila laughed. "Beg you? You should beg us. Jackson's a billionaire now." Right after we left the courthouse, Jackson grabbed his legs in pain, collapsed, and started foaming at the mouth. Yolanda screamed in terror. Lucas White, the hospital director, rushed over. Leila grabbed him. "Save my son. We have money." Lucas glanced at Jackson and shook his head. "Only Ghost Hand can fix this." Leila smirked, "Throw money at her, then." As I walked away, Lucas bowed deeply to me. "Ms. Sullivan, will you take this case?" A deadly silence fell over the place. I took off my sunglasses and watched the Lewis family grovel at my feet, pleading. I grinned, "Want him healed? Okay. There's one special treatment. The ingredient I use comes from the living tissue of an unborn fetus. Care to provide it, Yolanda?"