THE LOSER GOD OF WAR IS MIRACLE DOCTOR

CHAPTER 7

Keith leaned back in his chair, studying the phone with newfound interest. "What's your name?"

"Ivan Kappel," the voice replied, trembling with desperation. "I'm the heir of the Kappel family. Please, sir, my father doesn't have much time left."

Keith raised an eyebrow, glancing at Linda. The name meant nothing to him—in his prime, families of such insignificance had been beneath his notice, like ants scurrying around the feet of giants.

Linda leaned forward, her voice low but audible. "The Kappel family owns assets worth several billion dollars. They're an S-tier family from the provincial capital—barely wealthy enough to know about your true identity."

Barely at the threshold, Keith thought, amused by the irony. Once upon a time, I wouldn't have bothered with anyone below A tier.

Only families with assets exceeding $5 billion are recognized as S-class families, and there are fewer than ten of them in the entire country.

An A-class family must possess assets of over $500 million.

A B-class family must have assets of over $50 million.

The wealth of an S-class family is a hundred times that of a B-class one. If an S-class family so desired, they could effortlessly drive a B-class family into complete bankruptcy, leaving every member destitute and begging on the streets.

As for the pitiful Richardson family, their total assets don’t even reach $10 million — not even enough to qualify as a C-class family. This is precisely why Melaine has been so determined to marry Emilia off to Denver.

Although B-class families are mere ants in the eyes of the S-class elite, in this small city, a B-class family already ranks among the wealthiest.

"Send me the address," Keith said into the phone. "I'll come tomorrow."

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" Ivan's relief was palpable through the speaker. "We've reserved the entire top floor of St. Augustine Memorial Hospital—VIP suite 1201. The best doctors in the city have already given up hope."

Keith's expression darkened slightly. St. Augustine Memorial Hospital? Isn't that where Laurent Richardson is staying?

"I'll be there," Keith confirmed, ending the call.

Linda watched him carefully. "Are you sure about this? Your powers are only partially restored."

"It's time to test what I've regained," Keith replied, his voice steady with determination.

Meanwhile, across the city, Denver Walsh stepped out of his luxury sedan, adjusting his cufflinks with practiced arrogance. He'd just finished making arrangements—or rather, making promises he couldn't keep.

This charade better work, he thought grimly. Emilia's already planning our wedding.

At St. Augustine Memorial Hospital, Emilia Richardson clicked down the corridor in her designer heels, her face a mask of barely controlled fury. The sight that greeted her at Laurent's room made her blood boil.

Her mother, Melaine, stood facing a group of imposing men in black suits, her voice shrill with indignation.

"How dare you tell me we can't use the top floor!" Melaine screeched, jabbing her finger at the lead man. "Denver Walsh himself arranged for my son to have the best suite in this hospital!"

The man in black, built like a brick wall with shoulders that could block out the sun, smirked condescendingly. "Lady, I don't care if the Queen of England made your reservation. The entire top floor has been bought out."

"What's going on here?" Emilia demanded, striding forward with all the authority her family name could muster.

Melaine whirled around, tears of frustration streaming down her cheeks. "These thugs are blocking us from Laurent's VIP suite! They claim someone else reserved the entire floor!"

Emilia's eyes flashed dangerously as she turned to face the men in black. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with? I am Emilia Richardson, and my fiancé is Denver Walsh—heir to a B-tier family! You're making a very serious mistake."

The lead man chuckled, a sound like gravel grinding against concrete. "B-tier family? How adorable." His voice dripped with mockery. "Listen, princess, whoever your boyfriend is, he doesn't have the pull to override our boss's orders."

"Your boss?" Emilia sputtered, her face turning an unflattering shade of red. "Who could possibly outrank the Walsh family in this city?"

"Someone who makes your precious B-tier family look like street beggars," another man replied, his tone so dismissive it felt like a physical slap.

Melaine stepped forward, her voice rising to a near shriek. "This is outrageous! Laurent needs the best care possible! The top floor has the finest equipment, the best view—"

"And it's not available," the lead man cut her off coldly. "There are perfectly good VIP rooms on the seventh and eighth floors. Take it or leave it."

"Perfectly good?" Melaine's voice cracked with indignation. "My son is dying! He deserves the absolute best this hospital can offer!"

"Look," Emilia tried again, forcing her voice to remain level, "surely we can work something out. The Walsh family has significant influence in this city. Perhaps your employer would reconsider if—"

"Lady," the man interrupted, his patience clearly wearing thin, "you could bring the mayor himself down here, and it wouldn't change a damn thing. The top floor is off-limits. Period."

"This is ridiculous!" Melaine exploded, her voice echoing through the hospital corridor. "What kind of person needs an entire floor? Are they housing royalty up there?"

The men exchanged knowing glances, their smirks widening.

"Something like that," one of them muttered under his breath.

Emilia felt her carefully constructed world of privilege and entitlement beginning to crack. "You can't just dismiss us like this! When Denver hears about this treatment—"

"Your boyfriend can file a complaint with hospital administration," the lead man said with a shrug that screamed indifference. "Maybe they'll validate his parking for the trouble."

How can they be so dismissive? Emilia's mind raced. What kind of power does someone need to completely override a B-tier family's influence?

Melaine grabbed Emilia's arm desperately. "Do something! Call Denver! Make them understand that Laurent can't be moved to some inferior room!"