The Divine Healer: From Prison Trash to Global Sovereign

Chapter 5

The analyst's trembling hand held the glowing device steady as he bowed lower, his sudden entrance cutting straight through the heavy, suffocating silence of the medical wing. "Lord Grey, I apologize for the intrusion, but the Cross family's background file has just been decrypted and compiled in our database!"

"What did you find?" Dustin commanded, his voice dropping into a freezing, calculated void that caused the analyst to immediately break into a cold sweat under his crisp uniform.

"The digital signatures on the offshore transactions map directly to the Vanguard Group's stolen assets from six years ago," the analyst reported rapidly, holding out the screen. "We have the unedited wire transfers."

Seraphina instantly snatched the device from his hands, her eyes scanning the rapidly scrolling lines of financial shell companies and leaked bank transfers. Her breath completely hitched in her throat as a name appeared over and over at the center of the slaughter.

"Damian Cross..." Seraphina whispered, her voice cracking as a terrifying, cold tremor shook her entire frame. "It was him. He didn't just buy my father's stolen company. He was the one who sent those hitmen to burn my home. He made sure to ruin my family’s medical career."

Dustin stepped closer, looking down at the screen over her trembling shoulder as Commander Jones pointed a thick finger at a secondary ledger. The true, horrifying extent of the Cross family agenda lay entirely bare before them.

"Look here, My Lord," Commander Jones growled, his jaw clenching so hard his facial muscles grooned under the skin. "Six years ago, Damian Cross orchestrated the complete annihilation of the Vanguard empire, using Julian Sterling's hit-and-run as a deliberate smokescreen."

"Damian's original plan was to frame the entire Sterling Corporation for the accidents and the subsequent scandals, bankrupting them completely so he could absorb their remaining assets for pennies," Jones explained, his voice absolute ice. "But he didn't expect the Sterlings to sacrifice you instead."

"The Sterlings threw me into that prison cell as their shield, which completely ruined Damian's initial timeline," Dustin murmured, his deep voice dropping into a bottomless, calculating void. "So the con artist had to pivot to a plan B."

"Exactly, Lord Grey," the analyst chimed in, pointing to a fresh series of laundering accounts created within the last month. "Damian played the role of a smooth-talking billionaire savior to gain the Sterlings' absolute trust, dangling his fake connections to secure a massive corporate alliance."

"He has been systematically filtering the Sterling family's wealth into his offshore accounts while using their name to draw in other major tycoons," Jones added. "The moment he gains full legal control of their board, he is going to bleed them dry and leave them to take the fall for everything."

Dustin let out a low, terrifyingly calm chuckle that sent a shiver straight down the analyst's spine. He looked back toward the medical bed, where his mother lay breathing peacefully under the steady hum of the life-support monitors.

"The Sterlings left my mother to rot in the mud while they toasted to their new billionaire savior," Dustin whispered, a dark, freezing smile playing on his lips. "They wanted a tiger to protect them, so they invited a rabid wolf into their living room instead."

"Are you going to warn Chloe?" Seraphina asked, her silver eyes locking onto his face as she gripped the edges of the tablet until her knuckles turned white. "After everything they did to you, do they deserve to know they are sleeping with a monster?"

"Warn them?" Dustin hissed, his gaze turning into an unyielding glacier that left the room completely devoid of warmth. "The Sterlings are greedy, arrogant ingrates who happily traded my life for their own status, then left a blind old woman to starve in a gutter."

"They wanted wealth, they wanted influence, and they wanted Damian Cross," Dustin continued, his voice steady and cold. "I will not speak a single word to disturb their beautiful dream. Let them give that con artist every single cent they possess."

"But you, Seraphina," Dustin added, stepping closer until he was standing directly in front of her, his hand resting firmly on his weathered wooden staff. "You shielded my mother when I was locked away. You bled for her in those alleys."

"I swear to you on my mother's life," he whispered, his eyes flashing with a sudden, primitive dominance. "I will personally dismantle the Cross syndicate piece by piece, and you will get back every single building, contract, and dime your father once owned."

Seraphina stared up at him, her chest heaving with an intense mixture of residual grief and a newfound, burning hunger for absolute vengeance. For six years, she had been a homeless ghost, but looking into Dustin's eyes, she felt the first spark of hope.

"Thank you, Dustin," she choked out, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek, though her jaw remained tightly clenched. "I want to watch them fall. I want to see Damian Cross lose absolutely everything."

Suddenly, the heavy tactical watch on Commander Jones's wrist erupted with a sharp, flashing red alert from their global intelligence network. Jones swiped the glass interface, his face instantly turning into a grim mask of pure outrage.

"Speak, Jones," Dustin commanded, his tone instantly shifting into a sharp, military snap.

"Lord Grey! The shadow grid just intercepted a major transmission from the Grand Imperial Hotel," Jones reported, his chest expanding with deep anger. "Damian Cross is hosting an exclusive, high-society investment banquet this very evening."

"He has invited the city's top corporate tycoons and political figures, including Chairman Thomas of the central banking sector," Jones continued, his teeth clenching. "And the bastard is boldly claiming to be closely connected to the legendary 'Divine Healer' to secure their billions."

Dustin’s fingers tightened against his wooden staff until the solid grain let out an audible, groaning crack under his immense grip. The Sovereign Ring's unparalleled power was an absolute myth hidden deep within the global underworld, completely unknown to ordinary citizens.

Yet this petty international con artist was actively standing in a luxury ballroom, using his late master's sacred medical title to scam the city's elite and cement his hold over the Sterling family. The irony was so dense it made Dustin’s blood turn to liquid nitrogen.

"He wants to throw a multi-billion-dollar party in my name?" Dustin whispered, his eyes flashing with a lethal, terrifyingly patient calm that caused Commander Jones to drop his head in absolute reverence.

"He believes he can use the myth of the Divine Healer to conquer this city's financial market," Dustin muttered, stepping toward the grand wardrobe at the edge of the medical wing. "He has no idea that the true master is already standing outside his gates."

He spun around to face Seraphina, his cold demeanor completely replacing any trace of the gentle medical resident who had walked into Blackwood Prison six years ago. He looked at her tattered, mud-stained clothes with an unyielding determination.

"Jones, have the personal styling department bring the finest custom gown from the vault immediately," Dustin ordered, his voice carrying a booming authority. "Ensure it bears the traditional crest of the original Vanguard Group."

He walked toward the door, his boots clicking heavily against the polished floorboards as the elite guards outside snapped to a sharp, flawless salute. He paused at the threshold, his dark gaze locking onto Seraphina's stunned expression.

"Put on that dress, Seraphina," Dustin commanded softly, his tone laced with a promise of total, inescapable destruction for their enemies. "Tonight, we are going to walk straight into their paradise, and we are going to completely ruin his night."

The double doors clicked shut behind him with a heavy, pressurized seal, leaving the room vibrating with the impending storm of his wrath.