The Miracle Doctor Returns: Divorce To Hidden Identity

Chapter 13

The world turned on me overnight. One morning, I was the Miracle Doctor who restored life where death had already claimed its ground; by dusk, I was branded a fraud—a man who built his entire reputation on lies.

Carl’s scandal hit the media like wildfire. Every news channel, every blog, every whisper in the corporate sphere carried the same poisonous headline:

“Skydome’s Miracle Doctor Exposed: The Man with a Stolen Identity.”

The footage they aired was selective—grainy clips of me during my time at the clinic, blurred documents from unknown “sources,” and falsified records claiming my credentials never existed. Carl had invested heavily in disinformation. It was surgical—a smear campaign designed to dismantle me, not through bullets, but through doubt.

By the second day, investors began withdrawing. Reporters camped outside Skydome’s gates, demanding answers. Even within our walls, loyalty started to fracture.

Linda tried to control the damage—press releases, internal memos, and emergency board meetings—but the public’s hunger for scandal always outweighs their appetite for truth. I sat in silence through it all, watching the chaos unfold like an old wound reopening.

Then came the call I didn’t expect.

Nancy’s father.

He had once treated me with cautious respect, but the moment his voice crackled through the line, I heard nothing but suspicion.

“Charlie,” he said, “is it true what they’re saying? That you forged your qualifications? That you’re not who you claim to be?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

He continued, voice trembling, “You saved my wife. For that, I’m grateful. But if this scandal is true, it could destroy our entire family. Tell me, who are you really?”

Who am I? The question hung like a blade.

After a moment, I replied, “The truth wouldn’t fit in your world, sir. And you wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

There was silence on the line, followed by a sigh that sounded like defeat. “Then I suppose you’ll have to face this storm alone.”

The call ended. And for the first time in a long while, I felt something close to isolation.

Linda entered my office soon after, visibly angry. “You should say something publicly. Deny it. Release your old records. Fight back!”

I shook my head. “No. Carl wants me to panic. The moment I defend myself, I validate his narrative.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

I looked toward the window. “We wait. The truth will reveal itself—but not in the way they expect.”

But fate had a different schedule.

That evening, as I arrived home, the silence felt unnatural. My senses sharpened—the same way they did long before I ever entered Skydome’s world. Someone was watching.

I unlocked the door slowly, stepping inside. The lights were off. I could hear faint breathing—a controlled rhythm, the kind only trained soldiers maintain.

Before I could speak, a shadow emerged from the corner of the room.

“Commander,” a deep voice whispered, “it’s been a long time.”

He stepped into the light. Square jaw, military bearing, a scar running down his cheek—Major Reed. My chest tightened.

I hadn’t heard that title in years.

Commander.

Reed’s eyes were sharp but cautious. “I didn’t believe it myself when I heard the rumors. But when I saw the footage, I knew it had to be you. You’re alive.”

My heart pounded. Memories I’d buried deep began to stir. Images—fire, explosions, the roar of engines, blood on sand.

“Reed…” I muttered. “I thought you were dead.”

He gave a faint grin. “Close enough. The ambush wiped out half the unit. The rest scattered. You took the hit that saved us—but when we came back for you, the field was empty. They said your body was gone.”

“They?” I asked.

“The same people who planned the ambush. They weren’t just enemy soldiers, Charlie. They were insiders. Someone sold our coordinates.”

I froze. My pulse slowed, then quickened again—steady, controlled. The betrayal. The explosion. The smell of burning metal. My fall into the ravine. My rescue by strangers who found me barely alive, stripped of memory and name.

Reed continued, lowering his voice. “Carl’s new allies—they’re the same ones. The same syndicate that financed the attack on our unit. They’ve resurfaced, using corporate fronts to mask military power. And they’ve found you.”

I sat down slowly, letting the revelation sink in.

“So the scandal…”

“Was the opening salvo,” Reed said. “They’re softening the ground before the next strike. Discredit you, weaken your allies, isolate you—then eliminate you quietly.”

I looked at him carefully. “And what about the rest of the unit?”

He hesitated. “Most of them are gone. Those who survived went underground. But they’ve been watching. Waiting. When your name resurfaced, we knew the storm was about to begin again.”

Outside, thunder rumbled across the city.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The weight of my past pressed down like a collapsing roof.

Finally, I asked, “Why now? Why come to me?”

Reed met my gaze. “Because war’s coming whether you want it or not. And like it or not, you’re still our Commander.”

He reached into his coat and handed me a small, rusted dog tag. My name—Charles Donovan Wade. The real one.

My fingers closed around it. A pulse of clarity shot through me—every memory, every command, every battle cry that had defined my lost identity. The fog of amnesia began to clear.

It wasn’t coincidence that I could read patterns in medicine and strategy alike. My instincts weren’t a gift—they were scars. Trained, disciplined, earned through blood and survival.

And now, the same enemies who’d buried me were rising again—this time under Carl’s flag.

Reed straightened. “We’ve been tracking their movements. Their next operation targets Skydome directly. Not just a formula theft—total dismantling. They’re going to use corporate warfare as camouflage for military-grade destruction.”

I walked toward the window, pushing the curtains aside. The city sprawled beneath me, lights glittering like embers before a blaze.

“They made one mistake,” I said quietly. “They assumed the man they buried was gone.”

Reed looked at me with grim pride. “So, what will you do, Commander?”

I exhaled slowly. The calm before the storm returned. “What I was trained to do. Assess. Adapt. Eliminate.”

He nodded. “Then you’ll need your team again.”

“Find them,” I said. “Every name. Every survivor. Tell them the ghost they served under still breathes.”

Reed gave a faint salute before disappearing into the night.

When he was gone, I stood alone on the balcony, the dog tag cold in my palm. The city lights stretched endlessly before me—a reminder of everything I’d built and everything I was about to defend.

The whispers of my past and the noise of the present merged into one truth: peace had only been an illusion.

I looked down at the tag once more, tracing my name in the dim light.

“They took my memory to silence me,” I muttered. “Now I’ll use it to bury them.”

The wind howled against the glass. Somewhere in the distance, sirens echoed—a city unaware that its quiet skyline was about to become a battlefield again.

“If it’s war they want,” I whispered, tightening my grip, “then war they’ll get.”

And for the first time in years, I felt completely awake.

Chapter 14

The elevator descended deeper than I thought the building went—past the known sublevels, past the floor plans even Linda’s board clearance could access. When the doors slid open, cold air hit my face, laced with sterilized steel and electricity.

Linda keyed in a code on the wall panel. The heavy vault door before us unlocked with a hiss, revealing a corridor bathed in white light. Cameras turned as we walked, tracking us with silent precision. The deeper we went, the stronger the hum under my feet grew—like the heartbeat of a buried giant.

“This was your sanctuary,” Linda said softly. “Before everything collapsed.”

Rows of glass chambers lined the hallway, each containing devices I didn’t immediately recognize—biomechanical prototypes, skeletal exosuits, nanotech injection systems. Some still pulsed faintly with power, others were sealed under biometric locks only my hand could open.

When I reached the end of the hall, I saw the room that changed everything.

It wasn’t large—just a clean space with three central pods, each holding what looked like a metallic spine. Inside were my old projects: the NeuraCore, the Hemalite System, and the Aegis Injector. Together, they formed the foundation of the “living medicine” project—technology designed to heal any organ failure in seconds. But under certain calibrations, the same system could weaponize biological reactions and kill silently.

A double-edged miracle.

I walked closer, fingers brushing the glass. My reflection stared back—part scientist, part soldier, both ghosts of a man the world no longer remembered.

Linda stayed near the entrance. “No one outside this room knows these still exist,” she said. “After your disappearance, I locked them under Skydome’s deepest clearance. Even the board doesn’t have access.”

“Smart,” I muttered. “Because this… is what they’re after.”

The images in my head snapped into alignment—the attacks, Carl’s sudden aggression, the syndicate’s return. They weren’t after my reputation. They were after this.

Linda approached cautiously. “You built technologies that can shift medical science for the next century—or destroy half of it. If any of these leaks, governments will start a bidding war, and private militaries will kill to get even one formula.”

I turned toward her. “Then we don’t leak. We distribute—selectively, strategically. Only to hospitals we can trust.”

“You mean under Skydome’s control?”

“No,” I said. “Under mine.” She frowned. “That’s risky. You’d be exposing yourself again.”

“Let them think I’m still the loser,” I replied. “Let Carl believe he’s still ahead. I want them to underestimate me long enough to forget I’m not just a doctor or a CEO.”

I looked back at the pods. “I’m the man they couldn’t kill.” Linda’s silence said everything—equal parts respect and fear.

We moved to the terminal where the old system still hummed faintly. My fingerprints reactivated the control hub, lines of code spilling across the glass interface. Archives opened, showing blueprints and encryption keys for every project I’d ever created under the codename Project Aegis.

Buried within was the log of the day I vanished. Camera feeds, timestamps, internal communications—all wiped except one line of text I apparently left behind.

        “If you find this, remember: healing and destruction are brothers—only intent divides them.”

My old words. Cold, precise, prophetic.

Linda scanned the files. “If the wrong people realize what you’re unlocking, we’ll be targeted again. Maybe not by Carl this time—maybe by nations.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s why we’ll rebuild quietly. Train a smaller network. Doctors, researchers, logistics heads—all loyal, all silent. The foundation of a new order.”

She exhaled. “You’re turning Skydome into something else.”

I nodded. “A fortress disguised as a company.”

Linda’s expression softened, though her voice carried unease. “You sound like the commander Major Reed described—the strategist who never lost a war.”

The title felt heavier now. The old commander—the man I used to be—had slept for too long. But standing here, surrounded by the ghosts of my work, he was wide awake again.

The next hours blurred. We cataloged what was salvageable and what was too dangerous to exist. Some prototypes were beyond saving; others only needed a spark. I worked in silence, hands steady, mind clear. For the first time since my return, everything made sense.

Medicine had always been at war by other means—saving lives in one field while others played politics with death. But now, the lines have merged. The battlefield had moved from deserts and jungles to boardrooms and laboratories. The enemy no longer wore uniforms; they wore suits.

When we finished, Linda sealed the vault again, setting new biometric protocols that only recognized our prints.

As we walked back toward the elevator, she asked quietly, “What happens when the world finds out what’s buried under the Skydome?”

I looked at her. “They won’t find out. Not until it’s too late to stop me.”

She didn’t argue. She’d seen enough of me now to know the difference between arrogance and certainty.

When we reached the surface, dawn was breaking over the city. The skyline glowed with the first light, indifferent to the wars brewing in its shadow.

Linda turned to me. “You realize this makes you a target again. The old networks will come for you.”

“They already have,” I said. “The only difference now is that I remember how to fight.”

I stepped out of the elevator into the main lobby. The staff bowed as I passed, their voices echoing: “Good morning, Chairman.”

The title no longer felt foreign. It felt earned.

Linda walked beside me, still watching carefully. “And what do we do about Carl?”

“Carl’s a symptom,” I said. “The real disease is the syndicate that funds him. I’ll cure it the same way I cure everything else—methodically, permanently.”

I paused before the entrance. Outside, the city was waking, unaware that beneath its surface, a sleeping giant had opened his eyes.

“This war won’t be fought with bullets,” I murmured. “It’ll be fought with influence, data, and medicine. The tools have changed—but the strategy hasn’t.”

Linda looked at me, almost smiling. “You sound like you’re planning an empire.”

I finally turned to her. “Not planning. Reclaiming.”

As we stepped outside, the sun cut through the morning fog. The light hit the mirrored surface of Skydome’s headquarters, reflecting a sharp, endless gleam—like the edge of a blade.

In that reflection, I saw myself not as the man who once fell, but as the one who had risen twice.

The war had shifted forms, but the commander in me was ready.

And this time, I wasn’t fighting for survival. I was fighting for control.