Home / Urban / Dumped on my anniversary, I activated the billionaire system / chapter 26

chapter 26

Author: Bolu Boski

2026-07-27 02:26:49

Julian hit the ICU doors at a full sprint, his shoulders slamming the double panels open with a violent *CRACK* that echoed down the sterile white hallway.

Three nurses scrambled out of his path, their shoes squeaking against the linoleum, and a security guard reached for his radio before Julian's glare pinned him to the wall.

The cardiac monitors were screaming, a relentless, high-pitched wail that meant Arthur Reed's heart was fibrillating, and the surgical team was clustered around the

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chapter 157
Julian woke at five in the morning to the sound of rain on the window. The brick wall outside was slick and dark, the sky a flat, oppressive gray. He lay still for a moment, listening to the drip of the faucet, the creak of the building, the distant wail of a siren. No overlay. No diagnostics. No gold pulse in the corner of his vision. Just the sound of a city waking up and a man breathing in a room that smelled like mildew and old blood. He sat up. His body ached. His temples throbbed. The cracked molar sent a sharp lance of pain through his jaw every time he clenched his teeth. He walked to the sink, splashed water on his face, and looked in the mirror. The man staring back was hollow-eyed, unshaven, and running on four hours of sleep and a gas station coffee. He looked like what he was. A paramedic from Columbus, Ohio. A house husband. A nobody. He dressed. Black pants. A white shirt, buttoned to the collar. No tie. No jacket. No needle kit. He left the transmitter a
chapter 156
Julian woke at five in the morning to the sound of rain on the window. The brick wall outside was slick and dark, the sky a flat, oppressive gray. He lay still for a moment, listening to the drip of the faucet, the creak of the building, the distant wail of a siren. No overlay. No diagnostics. No gold pulse in the corner of his vision. Just the sound of a city waking up and a man breathing in a room that smelled like mildew and old blood. He sat up. His body ached. His temples throbbed. The cracked molar sent a sharp lance of pain through his jaw every time he clenched his teeth. He walked to the sink, splashed water on his face, and looked in the mirror. The man staring back was hollow-eyed, unshaven, and running on four hours of sleep and a gas station coffee. He looked like what he was. A paramedic from Columbus, Ohio. A house husband. A nobody. He dressed. Black pants. A white shirt, buttoned to the collar. No tie. No jacket. No needle kit. He left the transmitter a
chapter 155
Julian woke at five in the morning to the sound of rain on the window. The brick wall outside was slick and dark, the sky a flat, oppressive gray. He lay still for a moment, listening to the drip of the faucet, the creak of the building, the distant wail of a siren. No overlay. No diagnostics. No gold pulse in the corner of his vision. Just the sound of a city waking up and a man breathing in a room that smelled like mildew and old blood. He sat up. His body ached. His temples throbbed. The cracked molar sent a sharp lance of pain through his jaw every time he clenched his teeth. He walked to the sink, splashed water on his face, and looked in the mirror. The man staring back was hollow-eyed, unshaven, and running on four hours of sleep and a gas station coffee. He looked like what he was. A paramedic from Columbus, Ohio. A house husband. A nobody. He dressed. Black pants. A white shirt, buttoned to the collar. No tie. No jacket. No needle kit. He left the transmitter a
chapter 154
Julian woke at five in the morning to the sound of rain on the window. The brick wall outside was slick and dark, the sky a flat, oppressive gray. He lay still for a moment, listening to the drip of the faucet, the creak of the building, the distant wail of a siren. No overlay. No diagnostics. No gold pulse in the corner of his vision. Just the sound of a city waking up and a man breathing in a room that smelled like mildew and old blood. He sat up. His body ached. His temples throbbed. The cracked molar sent a sharp lance of pain through his jaw every time he clenched his teeth. He walked to the sink, splashed water on his face, and looked in the mirror. The man staring back was hollow-eyed, unshaven, and running on four hours of sleep and a gas station coffee. He looked like what he was. A paramedic from Columbus, Ohio. A house husband. A nobody. He dressed. Black pants. A white shirt, buttoned to the collar. No tie. No jacket. No needle kit. He left the transmitter a
chapter 153
Julian woke at five in the morning to the sound of rain on the window. The brick wall outside was slick and dark, the sky a flat, oppressive gray. He lay still for a moment, listening to the drip of the faucet, the creak of the building, the distant wail of a siren. No overlay. No diagnostics. No gold pulse in the corner of his vision. Just the sound of a city waking up and a man breathing in a room that smelled like mildew and old blood. He sat up. His body ached. His temples throbbed. The cracked molar sent a sharp lance of pain through his jaw every time he clenched his teeth. He walked to the sink, splashed water on his face, and looked in the mirror. The man staring back was hollow-eyed, unshaven, and running on four hours of sleep and a gas station coffee. He looked like what he was. A paramedic from Columbus, Ohio. A house husband. A nobody. He dressed. Black pants. A white shirt, buttoned to the collar. No tie. No jacket. No needle kit. He left the transmitter a
chapter 152
Julian woke at five in the morning to the sound of rain on the window. The brick wall outside was slick and dark, the sky a flat, oppressive gray. He lay still for a moment, listening to the drip of the faucet, the creak of the building, the distant wail of a siren. No overlay. No diagnostics. No gold pulse in the corner of his vision. Just the sound of a city waking up and a man breathing in a room that smelled like mildew and old blood. He sat up. His body ached. His temples throbbed. The cracked molar sent a sharp lance of pain through his jaw every time he clenched his teeth. He walked to the sink, splashed water on his face, and looked in the mirror. The man staring back was hollow-eyed, unshaven, and running on four hours of sleep and a gas station coffee. He looked like what he was. A paramedic from Columbus, Ohio. A house husband. A nobody. He dressed. Black pants. A white shirt, buttoned to the collar. No tie. No jacket. No needle kit. He left the transmitter a

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