LAPDOG HUSBAND IS A TRILLIONAIRE HEIR

Chapter 23

Yemin followed Marcus through the mansion's ornate corridors, noting how the staff stepped aside respectfully for the right-hand man of Chairman Hargrove. Marcus's strides were purposeful, his shoulders rigid with tension and lingering anger.

"I cannot apologize enough for the guards' behavior, Mr. Ravollor," Marcus said, breaking the silence. "Such disrespect is unacceptable."

Yemin studied the man beside him. Marcus Chen had no idea who he truly was—that Yemin actually owned the company Marcus and Chairman Hargrove managed. All Marcus knew was that Yemin had saved his boss's life years ago using unorthodox methods, and that the Chairman trusted him implicitly.

"It's not important," Yemin replied calmly. "What matters is Chairman Hargrove's condition."

They reached an elevator, and Marcus pressed his thumb against a biometric scanner. "The Chairman's private quarters are on the top floor."

As they ascended, Yemin asked, "What exactly happened? When I treated him previously, the condition should have been permanently resolved."

Marcus's brow furrowed. "That's what baffles us. One day, the Chairman was in perfect health—playing tennis, attending board meetings. The next morning, his assistant found him collapsed in his study, exhibiting all the same symptoms as three years ago."

This doesn't make sense, Yemin thought. The technique I learned from Master Lin was specifically designed to eliminate recurrence.

"Have you changed his medications recently? Any new food or environmental factors?"

"Nothing," Marcus replied, shaking his head. "We've had his food tested, his environment screened. We've brought in specialists from around the world."

The elevator doors opened to reveal a hushed, luxurious hallway with medical equipment discreetly positioned along the walls. Two nurses in crisp uniforms stood at attention outside double doors at the end of the corridor.

"How many doctors are with him now?" Yemin asked.

"Five. The country's best specialists."

As they approached the doors, Marcus's expression hardened. "One more thing. I don't know what method you'll use to help the Chairman, but be prepared for skepticism. These doctors..." He hesitated. "They're not accustomed to unconventional approaches."

Yemin nodded, understanding perfectly. As Marcus pushed open the doors, the quiet hum of monitors and hushed medical consultations filled the air.

The room was expansive, more like a luxury suite than a sickroom. At its center stood a hospital bed where Chairman Hargrove lay, his normally robust frame looking diminished against the white sheets. Medical equipment surrounded him, attended by nurses and doctors in white coats conferring in small groups.

All eyes turned as Marcus and Yemin entered.

One doctor, a silver-haired man with an imperious bearing, stepped forward. "Mr. Chen, who is this?" His gaze swept disdainfully over Yemin's simple clothing.

"Dr. Reynolds, this is Mr. Ravollor," Marcus replied formally. "He's here at the Chairman's request."

Another doctor, younger with rimless glasses, snickered. "Is he the new orderly? We specifically requested male nurses with critical care experience."

Titters of laughter rippled through the room. Yemin remained silent, his eyes fixed on Chairman Hargrove.

"No," Marcus replied, his voice tight with controlled anger. "Mr. Ravollor is the specialist who successfully treated the Chairman three years ago when all conventional methods failed."

The laughter stopped abruptly, replaced by incredulous stares.

"You can't be serious," Dr. Reynolds said, his voice dripping with condescension. "This... person... is a medical specialist?"

Yemin stepped forward. "I never claimed to be a doctor."

"Then what exactly are your qualifications?" demanded a severe-looking woman in her fifties. "Where did you train? Which medical school?"

"I have no formal qualifications," Yemin stated simply.

The room erupted in derisive laughter.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Dr. Reynolds sputtered. "We're trying to save Chairman Hargrove's life, and you bring in some street charlatan?"

They're afraid, Yemin observed dispassionately. Their expertise has failed them, and my presence threatens their sense of control.

"Mr. Chen," said another doctor, barely containing his mirth, "I respect your devotion to the Chairman, but this is absurd. This fellow looks like he should be asking for spare change outside the subway, not attending to one of the most powerful men in the country!"

Marcus's face flushed with anger, but before he could respond, Yemin moved toward the bed to examine Chairman Hargrove.

"Hey!" A sharp voice cut through the room. A young man in an expensive suit stepped between Yemin and the bed. The resemblance to Chairman Hargrove was unmistakable—his son, Alexander Hargrove.

"Don't you dare touch my father," Alexander snarled, his handsome face contorted with anger. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Alexander," Marcus began, "your father specifically requested—"

"I don't care what he requested in his delirium!" Alexander snapped. "Look at this man! He's clearly some con artist you've dredged up out of desperation."

He turned back to Yemin, eyes narrowed with contempt. "Let me make this very clear, whoever you are. If you so much as lay a finger on my father, I'll personally give you a slap that will knock you back to whatever gutter you crawled out of."