At seven o’clock the next morning, the executive boardroom of City Hospital was already packed.
George walked into the room wearing his tailored charcoal suit, his medical ID badge clipped to his lapel. The long mahogany table was surrounded by twelve members of the hospital board, all whispering anxiously. At the far end of the table sat Dr. Webber, his forehead shining with sweat. Right beside Webber sat a man George hadn't expected to see so soon: Richard Vance, Tiffany’s uncle and the chief financial officer of the regional medical supplier, Vance Biotech. "Ah, Dr. Sterling," Dr. Webber said, standing up quickly and gesturing to the empty chair at the head of the table. "Please, sit. We have... a delicate administrative crisis to address." George sat down, resting his folded hands on the table. "Good morning, Dr. Webber. Mr. Vance. I assume this meeting concerns Dr. Dean?" Richard Vance leaned forward, his sharp, hawk-like eyes fixing on George. Richard was a man who ruled through intimidation and financial pressure; he had long despised George for refusing to sign exclusive hospital contracts with Vance Biotech’s overpriced surgical supplies. "It concerns the reputation of this institution, George," Richard said coldly. "Vincent Dean was arrested on public television last night. The media is calling City Hospital a haven for narcotics abuse. Our stock dropped six points this morning." "Dr. Dean’s criminal behavior is his own responsibility," George said calmly. "The police have his pharmacy logs. The matter is in the hands of the District Attorney." "Is it?" Richard sneered. He slid a thick manila folder across the table toward George. "Because according to Vincent’s statement to his bail bondsman this morning, you were the one who poured that wine in Suite 402. He is alleging that you laced his drink to eliminate your primary rival for the Chief of Surgery position." The board members murmured, exchanging nervous glances. George didn't open the folder. He didn't blink. He had anticipated they would try to spin the narrative. "Dr. Dean is facing seven years in federal prison," George replied smoothly. "A desperate man will say anything to shift the blame. But if you are questioning my integrity, Mr. Vance, perhaps we should look at the hospital’s procurement ledgers." Richard stiffened. "What does procurement have to do with this?" George reached into his leather briefcase and pulled out a slim, encrypted tablet. He tapped the screen and projected a spreadsheet onto the boardroom’s main wall monitor. "During my review of Dr. Dean’s surgical cases over the past six months," George said, his voice ringing clearly through the quiet room, "I noticed a curious pattern. In eighty percent of his cardiovascular bypass surgeries, Dr. Dean requisitioned prosthetic heart valves exclusively from Vance Biotech." Richard’s face darkened. "We are an approved hospital vendor!" "You are," George agreed. "However, Vance Biotech valves cost forty percent more than the industry standard, and their clinical failure rate is three percent higher. Yet, Dr. Dean consistently bypassed the hospital’s primary supplier to order from you. Furthermore, financial records show that Vance Biotech paid a monthly 'consulting retainer' of fifteen thousand dollars directly into an offshore account owned by Dr. Vincent Dean." The room erupted into shocked gasps. Dr. Webber turned pale, staring at the screen. "Richard... is this true? You were kicking back commissions to Vincent?" "It’s a lie!" Richard shouted, slamming his hand on the table as he stood up. "Those consulting fees were entirely legal for biomedical research! You are fabricating a conspiracy, George!" "The IRS financial crimes division can determine its legality," George said coldly. He stood up, buttoning his suit coat. "As the new Head of the Medical Board, my first official act is an emergency audit of all Vance Biotech supply contracts. Effective immediately, City Hospital is freezing all pending orders with your firm until the federal investigation is complete." "You can't do that!" Richard roared, his veins bulging in his neck. "We supply half your surgical wings! You’ll paralyze the hospital!" "We have already secured an alternative supply line at standard market cost," a cool woman's voice said from the doorway. The boardroom doors opened. Elena Maxwell walked in, followed by two corporate attorneys. She looked impeccable in a sharp navy dress suit, her eyes icy as she looked at Richard Vance. "The Maxwell Group has authorized an immediate five-million-dollar credit line to cover the transition to a new supplier," Elena stated, walking to George’s side. "City Hospital no longer requires Vance Biotech’s overpriced hardware. If you have a complaint, Mr. Vance, my legal team is ready to receive your formal filing." Richard stood frozen, surrounded by hostile eyes. He looked at Elena, then turned a murderous glare toward George. He realized he had walked into a trap. George hadn't just removed Vincent; he was systematically cutting the Vance family’s financial roots out of the hospital. "You think you’ve won, boy?" Richard hissed, leaning over the table toward George. "You think having a billionaire heiress holding your leash makes you untouchable? Tiffany told me who you really are,an arrogant, naive fool who doesn't know his own depth." "Get out of my hospital, Richard," George said quietly. Richard gritted his teeth, grabbed his manila folder, and stormed out of the boardroom, slamming the door behind him.Latest Chapter
Chapter 9
At five o'clock the next morning, long before the sun had touched the glass towers of the financial district, George slipped out of the penthouse service exit wearing a dark, raincoat and a plain baseball cap.He didn't take his car from the underground garage,Tiffany had access to the vehicle’s GPS logs through their insurance app. Instead, he walked four blocks through the gray, drizzling dawn and hailed a passing city taxi."Where to, buddy?" the driver asked, eyeing George’s soaked coat in the rearview mirror."South Harbor," George said, pulling his cap down. "402 Waterfront Way."The driver raised an eyebrow. "Waterfront Way? That’s the old industrial piers, man. Nothing down there but empty warehouses and the shipping yards.""Just drive," George said quietly.Thirty-five minutes later, the taxi dropped him off on a cracked asphalt street smelling of salt water, diesel exhaust, and rotting kelp. The towering glass buildings of City Hospital felt like a different planet. Here,
Chapter 8
The gold-plated tip of the fountain pen hovered an inch above the crisp, cream-colored paper.George’s hand was steady, but his chest felt as if it had been wrapped in bands of cold iron. He looked at the signature line,the small, neat dotted rule where he was supposed to write away his financial survival. And then he looked up at Tiffany.She was still kneeling on the Persian carpet beside his chair. Her hands were folded gently over his knee, her large, amber-brown eyes shining with a thin film of unshed tears. To anyone else, she looked like a picture of absolute, selfless devotion.George looked at her face and suddenly remembered a rainy Tuesday afternoon four years ago.He had been a third-year resident then, working ninety-hour weeks on a resident’s meager stipend, his eyes permanently bruised with exhaustion. His car had broken down on the interstate three miles from the hospital. He had walked the rest of the way in the downpour, his scrubs soaked through, his shoes squelchin
Chapter 7
By eight o'clock that evening, the rain was pouring against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse.George sat at his mahogany desk in the private study, his reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose as he reviewed the legal charter for PulseTech.His software,an AI-driven diagnostic algorithm capable of predicting arterial blockages before they appeared on standard EKGs,was only three weeks away from its final FDA approval. Once approved, the company’s valuation would skyrocket into the hundreds of millions.In his first life, Tiffany and Vincent had murdered him right before that approval came through, seizing the patents overnight.The study door opened softly. Tiffany walked in.She had changed into a simple, comfortable cashmere sweater and silk lounge pants. She carried a silver tray holding a steaming mug of chamomile tea. Her face was washed clean of makeup, making her look younger, fragile, and deeply sorrowful."You missed dinner," she said softly, setting th
Chapter 6
At seven o’clock the next morning, the executive boardroom of City Hospital was already packed.George walked into the room wearing his tailored charcoal suit, his medical ID badge clipped to his lapel. The long mahogany table was surrounded by twelve members of the hospital board, all whispering anxiously. At the far end of the table sat Dr. Webber, his forehead shining with sweat.Right beside Webber sat a man George hadn't expected to see so soon: Richard Vance, Tiffany’s uncle and the chief financial officer of the regional medical supplier, Vance Biotech."Ah, Dr. Sterling," Dr. Webber said, standing up quickly and gesturing to the empty chair at the head of the table. "Please, sit. We have... a delicate administrative crisis to address."George sat down, resting his folded hands on the table. "Good morning, Dr. Webber. Mr. Vance. I assume this meeting concerns Dr. Dean?"Richard Vance leaned forward, his sharp, hawk-like eyes fixing on George. Richard was a man who ruled through
Chapter 5
The oak door of their penthouse apartment clicked shut, locking out the noise of the city.George stood in the dimly lit foyer, slowly unbuttoning his suit jacket. The silence inside the home was suffocating. For the past two years, this luxury high-rise had been his sanctuary,a place he had paid for with eighty-hour workweeks at the hospital and endless sleepless nights building his medical software company.In his previous life, he had walked into this apartment every night believing he was the luckiest man on earth. He had believed the framed wedding photos on the console table meant something.He looked at the small silver frame near his keys. In the photo, Tiffany was clinging to his arm, laughing in a white veil. It was a flawless illusion.The door opened again behind him. Tiffany stepped inside.She looked exhausted, her cream-colored silk blouse wrinkled from the chaos at the hotel. Her hands were trembling as she dropped her designer handbag onto the marble bench. She didn’
Chapter 4
Ten minutes passed.George sat comfortably on the leather sofa, his leg crossed over his knee. He was talking calmly about the upcoming hospital charity mixer downstairs.On the opposite sofa, Vincent stopped talking mid-sentence.He blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if trying to clear a sudden fog. His hand lifted to rub his temples. "It's... it's really warm in here," Vincent mumbled, his speech slightly slurred.Tiffany frowned, looking at her gold watch. It had been twelve minutes since the toast. She turned her eyes toward George, expecting to see him slumping over the armrest.Instead, George was sitting up straight, completely alert, watching them both with dark, unblinking eyes."Vincent?" Tiffany asked, her voice tight with confusion. "Are you okay?""I don't... my legs feel ," Vincent stammered. He tried to stand up from the sofa, but his knees buckled instantly. He crashed back onto the cushions, his head rolling to the side. The empty crystal glass slipped from his fing
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