SUPER DOCTOR REVENGE

Ch. 2

The paper felt heavier than stone in Calvin’s trembling hands. The words DECREE OF ABSOLUTE DIVORCE blurred into a jagged, blood-red smear beneath his eyes.

"Sign it, Calvin. Don't make this uglier than it already is," Tiffany said, her voice completely detached, as if she were dismissing a low-level supplier rather than ending a three-year marriage. She reached into her silk robe, pulled out an elegant gold fountain pen, and tossed it carelessly onto the damp rug near his knees.

Calvin didn’t look at the pen. He looked up at her, his vision burning with an agonizing mix of disbelief and raw betrayal. "Three years, Tiffany. For three years, I swallowed every piece of garbage your mother threw at me. I stood by you when the media accused your father of tax evasion. I took the fall for your brother’s reckless driving charge so he wouldn't go to prison. I gave up my dignity, my family name, everything—just so you would keep Elara alive!"

"And we paid for her room for three years, didn't we?" Tiffany snapped, a flash of irritation breaking through her frosty demeanor. "Do you have any idea how much a high-tech isolation suite costs? Millions! The Vance family has done more than enough charity for a dead-end household like the Hudsons. Be grateful we didn't throw her out on the street a year ago."

"Charity?" Calvin let out a hollow, ragged laugh that sounded more like a choke. "Your family's entire beauty line is based on the botanical formulas my father discovered before the war! You stole his patents while we were burying my mother! You didn't give me charity, Tiffany. You paid me blood money, and now you're breaking the contract."

Standing beside the bed, Julian Sterling let out a sharp, amused bark of laughter. He stepped forward, his polished Italian leather loafers stepping directly onto the edge of the divorce document, grinding the crisp paper into the wet, muddy outline of Calvin's knees.

"Watch your tongue, Hudson," Julian warned, his eyes narrowing with a toxic blend of arrogance and malice. "You speak as if you still have a leg to stand on. The Hudson name is dead. Your father is a ghost, your mother is dust, and your sister is a vegetable waiting for someone to pull the plug. You think you're a victim? In this world, the weak don't get to dictate terms to the strong."

Julian leaned down slightly, resting his hands on his knees, his face inches from Calvin’s. "Let me tell you a little secret. The order to terminate your sister’s life support funding? I didn't just approve it. I requested it. I wanted to see what a 'genius war-doctor' looks like when he has absolutely nothing left."

A primal rage, hot and violent, erupted from the depths of Calvin’s chest. For three years, he had suppressed his pride, turning himself into a hollow shell to endure the Vance family's cruelty. But hearing Julian speak of Elara as a disposable object broke something fundamental inside him.

With a roar of pure defiance, Calvin lunged upward, his bruised fists flying straight toward Julian’s smirk.

Thud!

Before Calvin’s fist could connect, a heavy, iron-tooled boot slammed into his ribs from the side. The sheer force of the blow shattered his momentum, sending him crashing sideways into a heavy mahogany nightstand. A crystal vase shattered against his shoulder, showering him in shards of glass and stagnant water.

Two towering men in black suits—Julian’s personal bodyguards—stepped into the room from the shadows of the hallway. One of them re-adjusted his leather gloves, his face expressionless.

"Ah!" Tiffany gasped, jumping up from the bed, frantically smoothing down her silk robe. "Calvin, you psycho! How dare you try to assault Julian in my room? Guards, get this garbage out of my sight! Drag him out!"

Julian rubbed his neck, his smirk returning, colder and sharper than before. "You really are a stray dog, aren't you, Hudson? Still barking even when your teeth are broken. Beat him until he signs, then throw him into the street."

The bodyguards didn't hesitate. One of them grabbed Calvin by his wet hair, hoisting him off the floor with terrifying ease, while the other delivered a brutal, localized blow to his stomach. Calvin gasped, the air completely leaving his lungs as he collapsed back onto his knees, coughing up a streak of crimson onto the pristine white rug.

"Sign it," the first bodyguard growled, forcing Calvin's hand around the gold fountain pen and slamming his palm down onto the signature line.

Calvin’s vision swam. His vision went dark at the edges, the pain in his fractured ribs radiating through his entire torso. Through the haze of agony, his eyes locked onto the digital clock resting on the nightstand.

10:42 PM.

Less than an hour and a half until midnight. Less than ninety minutes until the hospital administrators turned off the machines keeping Elara's heart beating. If he died here, or if he stayed trapped in this room, his sister would die alone in the dark.

His fingers trembled against the gold metal of the pen. With his remaining strength, he dragged the tip across the paper, leaving a jagged, bloody scrawl of his name.

"Good boy," Julian sneered, stepping over Calvin’s bleeding form to retrieve the paper. He inspected the signature, a look of profound triumph settling into his features. He turned to Tiffany, handing her the document. "Congratulations, darling. You are officially free from the trash."

Tiffany looked down at Calvin, a brief, fleeting shadow of discomfort crossing her face as she saw the pool of blood forming beneath his chest. But she quickly hardened her gaze, turning her back to him. "Have the guards throw him out the back gate. I don't want the media seeing him on the front lawn during the banquet."

"Understood, Miss Vance," the bodyguard muttered.

They grabbed Calvin by the collar of his coat, dragging his limp, heavy body down the back service staircase like a sack of garbage. Calvin’s boots clicked lifelessly against each step, his blood leaving a faint, smeary trail along the cold concrete.

The back doors of the villa flew open, and the freezing, torrential storm of Bacca hit him like a physical wall. The sky was pitch-black, illuminated only by occasional flashes of violent lightning.

With a synchronized heave, the two bodyguards hurled Calvin out into the muddy, unpaved alleyway behind the estate. He landed hard on his side, his broken ribs screaming in agony as he rolled into a deep, freezing puddle of rainwater.

"If we ever see your face within a mile of the Vance estate again, Hudson, we won't just break your ribs," the lead guard barked over the roaring thunder. "We'll make sure you join your mother in the family plot."

The heavy iron security gate slammed shut with a deafening, metallic echo, locking Calvin out in the dark.

Lying in the mud, the freezing water filling his mouth and ears, Calvin tried to push himself up. His fractured wrists gave way immediately, sending his face crashing back into the filth. The rain beat down on his back like a barrage of small stones. He could barely breathe; every shallow gasp felt like an ice pick piercing his lungs.

He looked up at the dark sky, his tears mixing with the rain.

Elara...

He had failed. His pride was gone, his family name was dragging in the gutter, and now, the only person left in the world who loved him was about to be murdered by the very people he had served.

As his consciousness began to flicker, Calvin felt a strange, localized heat pulsing against his collarbone. Beneath his soaked shirt, resting against his skin, was an old, heavily scratched phoenix amulet—the only thing his mother had left behind.

As a single, heavy drop of Calvin’s blood washed down his neck and seeped into the ancient engravings of the amulet, the metal suddenly turned scalding hot, glowing with a brilliant, hidden crimson fire.