2025-10-08 08:15:45Linda slipped her arm under mine, steady and firm, as if she’d carried me a thousand times before. Her presence silenced the chaos around me, but Nancy’s voice cut through like a jagged blade.
“Don’t you dare walk away with him! He’s still my husband!”
Her eyes were bloodshot, her face twisted with rage.
“Ex-husband,” Linda corrected sharply, her tone smooth as glass but edged like steel. She didn’t even look at Nancy again. She focused on me—only me.
Nancy’s fists clenched. I could feel the weight of her fury pressing against my back. But before she could launch another attack, the doctor’s frantic voice pierced the room.
“Miss Nancy! Your mother… she’s awake!”
The words hit like thunder. Nancy’s face froze, her rage dissolving into shock.
“She’s—what?”
“Yes, she regained consciousness just now! You should come immediately.”
Nancy gasped, her body jolting as if she’d been struck by lightning. Without another glance at me, she bolted down the corridor, her heels clicking desperately against the tiles.
Her fury, her venom—it all vanished in a heartbeat. For her, only her mother existed.
Linda didn’t spare her a glance. She guided me firmly, leading me out of the ward, away from the sterile smell of disinfectant and betrayal, toward something I couldn’t yet name.
*****
The hospital doors slid open with a hiss, and I froze.
Dozens of luxury cars gleamed in the evening light, lined up like soldiers awaiting their commander. Black Maybachs, Bentleys, Rolls-Royces—the kind of fleet that could paralyze an entire city. Chauffeurs stood respectfully beside them, heads bowed, posture rigid. The air itself seemed to hum with power.
All for me. I blinked, unsure if I was hallucinating from blood loss. “What… what is this?”
“This,” Linda said calmly, her hand still steadying me, “is the most low-key welcome I could arrange.”
Low-key? My lips parted, but no words came out. In another life, I’d have considered this a parade fit for a king.
Linda motioned, and immediately two men in suits rushed forward, opening the doors of a sleek black Maybach. She guided me inside with the care of someone handling something fragile yet irreplaceable.
The moment the door shut, the chaos of the outside world was silenced. The cabin smelled of leather and faint sandalwood. Soft lights bathed the interior in gold.
I leaned back, dizzy, pale. My mind was spinning faster than my body could keep up.
“Linda,” I said hoarsely, “what the hell is going on?”
She studied me for a moment, her eyes sharp but compassionate. “You lost your memory because of an attack. It wasn’t an accident. Whoever did it wanted to strip you of everything—your power, your knowledge, your name.”
“Attack?” I repeated, my head pounding as if trying to recall what my mind refused to give.
“Yes. And in the process, you lost not only your memories but also… your skills.”
“What skills?”
“Your medical skills.” Her voice was firm, reverent. “You weren’t just a doctor, Charlie. You were the doctor. The Miracle Doctor. The man kings, billionaires, and warlords turned to when they were beyond saving.”
I stared at her, stunned. The words sounded like fantasy. I, who had just been humiliated, drained, and discarded in a hospital ward, being called the Miracle Doctor?
“That’s absurd,” I whispered.
Her lips curved into a faint smile. “Absurd? Then explain why you still own assets worth tens of billions—wealth you earned from saving the lives of the powerful. Do you think they paid you in coins and handshakes? They gave you empires, Charlie. Land, stocks, influence.”
My chest tightened. “Tens of… billions?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head, gripping the seat as if the world was tilting under me. “I don’t remember any of that.”
“You will,” Linda said softly but with conviction. “In time. But until then, you can’t live as an amnesiac wandering in the shadow of a woman who despises you. You need protection, and you need purpose. That’s why I’ve arranged a new identity for you.”
The car glided smoothly through the city streets, the convoy of black cars swallowing entire lanes. Pedestrians stopped and stared, phones snapping pictures, whispers chasing us like shadows.
“And what identity is that?” I asked.
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she tilted her head toward the window. “Look outside.”
I turned. My breath caught in my throat.
The Maybach rolled to a slow stop in front of a skyscraper that pierced the clouds. Its glass walls reflected the dying sun, turning it into a tower of fire. On the top, bold letters glowed against the sky:
SKYDOME PHARMACEUTICALS.
I stared, heart hammering. “That’s… Skydome?”
Linda’s smile deepened, her eyes gleaming with quiet pride. “The largest pharmaceutical company in the city. And not just in this city—Skydome’s reach stretches across continents. Its name alone moves markets.”
The car door opened. I stepped out slowly, my legs unsteady but my mind sharper with every second. The convoy lined up behind me, guards in black forming a protective wall around the entrance.
It felt surreal.
Linda came to stand beside me, her heels clicking against the marble steps as she faced me fully. “Charlie, this is where you belong. This company, this empire—it was built with your hands, your mind, your cures. And from today…” Her voice dropped, reverent, final.
“…you are the CEO of Skydome Pharmaceuticals.”
The world seemed to pause. The neon lights of the city flickered on, illuminating the tower that now bore my destiny.
I, the man discarded like a husk hours ago, was being handed the throne of an empire I couldn’t even remember building.
I wanted to laugh, cry, scream, all at once. But all I managed was a whisper.
“CEO…?” Linda nodded once. “Yes. And this is only the beginning.”
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Chapter 229
The morning begins without warning.There is no official alert sent through the executive channel. No red banner across internal systems. No urgent knock at Charlie’s door.Instead, a quiet call comes through Raiden’s secure line just after eight.“They’re five minutes out,” the voice says.Raiden pauses. “Five minutes?”“Yes.”“No advance team sweep?”“Minimal.”Raiden ends the call and walks quickly down the corridor toward Charlie’s office. He does not run. He does not raise his voice. He simply moves with sharpened focus.Charlie is reviewing a staffing proposal when Raiden steps inside.“We have a visitor,” Raiden says.Charlie does not look up immediately.“Unscheduled?”“Yes.”Charlie closes the file.“Who?”Raiden holds his gaze.“The president.”The words hang in the air without drama.Charlie nods once.“Security?”“Discreet. Limited personnel. He insisted.”Charlie stands.“Then we receive him as a visitor.”Not as a spectacle. Not as a threat.As a visitor.Outside, the mo
Chapter 228
The applause from the summit fades into the usual cycle of commentary, analysis, and then the next urgent headline. Within days, the speech is folded into broader discussions about governance and reform. Panels quote it. Articles reference it. Then the world moves forward.Inside the hospital, the rhythm never changed in the first place.Elena stands at the scrub sink just after dawn, sleeves rolled high, fingers moving with steady precision beneath the running water. The surgical wing smells faintly of antiseptic and coffee. Night staff exchange clipped updates before heading home. Day teams gather charts and tablets.A nurse steps beside her.“You’re on with Dr. Raman for the second case?” the nurse asks.“Yes,” Elena replies, eyes still on her hands. “And I want imaging rechecked before we start.”“It was reviewed at four.”“I know. I want it reviewed again.”The nurse nods. No irritation. Just acknowledgment.Elena finishes scrubbing and moves toward the operating room. Through th
Chapter 227
The letter remains in the drawer.Linda does not touch it the next morning. She wakes before sunrise, lies still for a while, and listens to the quiet of her apartment. The city will start moving soon. Traffic will gather. Notifications will begin their steady pulse.For now, there is only silence.Across the city, Charlie’s schedule begins earlier than usual. The medical summit has drawn researchers, hospital administrators, and policy leaders from across several countries. The conference center hums with layered conversations and restrained ambition.He reviews his notes in a small private room backstage. The folder in his hand is thin. No dramatic slides. No elaborate presentation.Raiden stands near the door, scanning updates on a tablet.“They’re at capacity,” Raiden says. “Overflow rooms are active.”Charlie nods once.“Security?” he asks.“Standard. Nothing unusual.”Charlie closes the folder and sets it on the table.“You could broaden it,” Raiden offers. “Address institutiona
Chapter 226
The draft sits open on Linda’s screen for three days before she types a single word.She does not title it. She does not date it. She only stares at the empty space and listens to the low hum of her apartment at night. The refrigerator cycles on. A car passes below. Somewhere upstairs, a chair scrapes against the floor.She has written statements before. Carefully structured responses. Legal clarifications. Interviews shaped to minimize damage. Those had purpose. Those had direction.This has neither.She begins anyway.Charlie,She stops.The name looks strange alone, without context or title. For years it had been paired with company briefings, strategic decisions, press conferences. It had weight. Authority. Now it is just a word on a blank page.She deletes it.She types again.I don’t know where to begin.That feels honest. She leaves it.The cursor blinks. She watches it as if it might suggest something for her. It does not.I have replayed the last few years more times than I c
Chapter 225
The discovery does not come through gossip or a late night call. It arrives the way most real damage does, quietly and documented.Linda’s attorney asks her to come in early. His voice over the phone is controlled, but thinner than usual.“There’s something you need to see,” he says.She expects another compliance review. Another residual audit tied to the consortium fallout. She dresses carefully, almost formally, as if composure can shape outcomes.The documents are spread across the conference table when she arrives. Printed copies. Highlighted lines. Transfer logs with dates she recognizes.“What is this?” she asks, remaining standing.“Independent forensic accounting,” her attorney replies. “Commissioned after the last round of internal reviews.”She studies the first page. Then the second. Then she sits.Shell companies. Layered ownership. Offshore accounts routed through subsidiaries that once reported to her division.The amounts are not small.“These were processed during my
Chapter 224
Months pass before her voice returns.Not in a press conference. Not through a spokesperson. A single interview, recorded in a studio that looks intentionally plain. Neutral walls. No dramatic lighting. No audience. Just a table, two chairs, and a camera that does not blink.The host is careful. Not hostile. Not sympathetic. Careful.Linda sits upright, hands folded loosely in front of her. She has lost weight. Or maybe it is just the absence of makeup and curated posture. There is no jewelry. No emblem. No badge of authority left to signal who she used to be.The clip surfaces online without warning. A small outlet releases it first. Within hours, larger networks pick it up.In Skydome’s monitoring division, the content filters flag her name. The feed populates automatically. No one alerts Charlie directly. He sees it later on his own.In the interview, the host asks, “Why speak now?”Linda pauses before answering.“Because silence begins to sound like agreement,” she says.“Agreemen
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