The next morning, whispers filled every corner of Ortega Pharmaceuticals like a restless wind. From the glass corridors to the buzzing research department, everyone had heard the news that the patient was dead. The revolutionary drug Antonio had championed, the same formula he claimed would cure the incurable, had allegedly taken a life.At first, no one wanted to believe it. Some even laughed it off, saying it must be a rumor started by jealous rivals. But when confirmation came from the hospital, silence spread through the building.By noon, it wasn’t whispers anymore. It was mockery.“Didn’t I tell you?” one of the lab technicians sneered as he poured his coffee. “That man, Antonio Morris is fake and a fraud! The man has been bluffing from day one.”Another joined in with a smirk. “Oh please. He thought he could cure something doctors have declared impossible for decades. He’s lucky if he doesn’t end up in prison for killing that patient.”“Exactly,” another voice added. “Fake

Within minutes, Antonio was sitted with the company’s top executives, scientists, and medical consultants — including Liora Ortega, the Executive Director, who had called the meeting after receiving Antonio’s feedback from the hospital.“The first dose was successful,” Antonio began. “The viral activity reduced by fifty-five percent. That means the compound is working exactly as designed. But it’s not complete yet. For total eradication, the patient must receive a second shot within twenty-four hours.”The room erupted in murmurs.One of the senior biochemists, Dr. Vance Coleman, let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Another shot?” he said, half-mocking. “Mr. Morris, this isn’t some miracle potion. We’re talking about a disease that’s baffled the medical community for decades. A second dose isn’t going to magically erase it.”Another voice chimed in from across the table — Dr. Megan Riis, head of pharmacodynamics. “Even if the first dose reduced viral load, complete elimination in twe

A sharply dressed usher approached him at once. “Mr. Morris,” the man said with a bow, “this way, please. You’re expected.”Antonio followed though the reverence directed at him still felt foreign. The usher led him past rows of tables filled with distinguished guests—politicians, executives, celebrities—all of whom turned to steal a glance at him.He was guided to a secluded section draped in ivory silk, reserved for the restaurant’s most distinguished patrons. The table was already set with silver cutlery gleamed under soft golden light, two glasses of fine wine shimmered with crystal clarity, and a vase of fresh white lilies sat between the plates.Antonio gave a small nod and took his seat. Though he looked calm, his mind was not idle. Liora’s invitation had intrigued him. He looked around briefly. The privacy of the section was impressive — only a handful of staff had access, and the glass divider gave a clear view of the city lights beyond. Everything about this place exuded

The air in the restaurant had grown tense enough to cut through.Every eye in the private dining area seemed to shift toward them, curiosity stirring behind the flicker of candlelight and the muted clinking of glasses. What had begun as a warm, quiet evening between two successful colleagues had turned into a public confrontation—one that neither Liora nor Antonio had expected.Greg Wilton stood rigid, his tailored black suit catching the amber glow of the chandeliers. His expression burned with disbelief and fury, his voice still echoing in the polished silence of the room."What are you doing here with my woman?!” he demanded, pointing an accusing finger at Antonio.Liora blinked, taken aback by his audacity. But within seconds, the initial shock in her expression hardened into a quiet, controlled defiance.“Greg,” she said, her tone measured yet cutting, “you’re the one who should be answering that question.”His brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”She fold

Greg’s voice thundered across the restaurant as Antonio made his calm exit.“You think you can walk away like that?” Greg's words echoed through the marble hall. “You’ll regret this, you hear me? I’ll find out who you are, Morris or—whatever your name is—and you’ll wish you never tried flirting with my woman!”Heads turned in his direction. Diners whispered. The maître d’ tried to calm him down, but Greg shoved his hand aside and kept yelling, his fury spilling over like boiling water.Antonio didn’t look back. His pace was unhurried, his posture straight, and his silence louder than Greg’s shouts. The doormen pushed the glass doors open for him, and the cold evening breeze swept in as he stepped out into the night.Greg stood there with his face flushed with rage and humiliation, glaring at the doors that had closed behind Antonio.“Greg, stop it!” Liora said, her voice trembling as she stood from her chair. “You’re embarrassing yourself!”But Greg’s anger wasn’t something that co