The Mysterious Doctor

I'm done being a doormat

The alarm rang 7:00am.

Vincent had barely slept. His body was exhausted from the surgery, but his mind wouldn't stop racing. Then his phone buzzed with a text notification.

"Come to the estate. 9 AM. We need to discuss something. — Father."

Vincent stared at the message for a while.

He showered. Dressed. He wore one of his regular clothes. Comfortable enough

He didn't have anything to prove anymore.

The Blackwood estate loomed before him, grand.

Vincent walked through the front doors. No one greeted him. No one escorted him. He knew the way to the study, the room where his father conducted all his important business.

He pushed open the door.

They were all there. His father, seated behind his massive desk. Brenda beside him, her smile sharp and cruel. Marcus lounging in a leather chair, smug and relaxed.

And Amelia. She sat beside Marcus, her hand resting on his arm. She wore a diamond ring on her finger, one Vincent had never seen before. An engagement ring.

Vincent's chest tightened, but he didn't look away. He didn't react. He just sat in the empty chair across from them.

The chair reserved for the unwanted son.

"Vincent," his father began, "we've made a decision. After the incident at the party and after your reckless behavior at the hospital. So, we've decided it's best for everyone if you resign from surgery."

Vincent blinked. "Resign?"

"You're being reassigned," Brenda said smoothly. "A more... suitable position. One that won't embarrass the family name."

"And what position would that be?"

"Records," Marcus said, grinning. "You'll be in the basement, organizing files. It's important work. Someone has to do it."

Vincent looked at his father. "You're demoting me. After I saved a child's life."

"Don't be dramatic," his father snapped. "You broke protocol. You acted without authorization. You embarrassed this hospital in front of Henrietta Sterling—"

"She thanked me," Vincent interrupted. "She thanked me for saving her grandson. She didn't seem embarrassed."

His father's face reddened. "You don't understand the position you've put us in! Marcus had to smooth things over for hours—"

"Smooth things over?" Vincent repeated. "She ignored him. She gave me her card. She told me to call if I ever needed anything."

Marcus's smirk faltered. "She was being polite. She doesn't actually care about you."

"Stop arguing," Brenda snapped. "The decision is final. You'll finish the projects you're working on for Marcus—"

"The projects you stole from me."

"—and then you'll move to records. You'll be grateful we're giving you anything at all."

Vincent stared at them. His family. The people who were supposed to love him.

Amelia cleared her throat. "Vincent. I hope you've signed the papers. Marcus and I—" she held up her hand, showing off the ring, "—we're getting married. I need you to finalize the divorce so we can move on with our lives."

Vincent looked at her. The woman he'd loved. The woman who'd destroyed him.

He didn't argue. He didn't plead. He simply nodded. The divorce was happening. He'd finally accepted it. There was nothing left to fight for.

Amelia seemed surprised by his silence. She opened her mouth, then closed it.

"So," Vincent said slowly, turning back to his father, "what if I don't stay to help Marcus with those projects?"

His father's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

"If I don't finish the projects. If I don't let him take credit for my work. What if I'm done being behind and letting him take everything?"

The room went silent.

"You wouldn't dare," his father said slowly. "How would you survive? You have nothing, Vincent. No money. No connections. No future. You'd be nothing without me."

"Absolutely nothing," Brenda agreed. "Even your dead mother's grave won't have long maintenance without our money. Think about that before you make foolish decisions."

Vincent's vision went red."Keep my mother off your tongue," he said. His voice was low. Dangerous.

Brenda's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Vincent stood up. "You don't get to talk about her. You don't get to use her grave as a threat. She was worth more than all of you combined."

"Or what?" Marcus stood too, stepping forward. "What are you going to do, Vincent? Cry? Beg? Run away like you always do?"

Vincent looked at his stepbrother. "Don't test me, Marcus."

"Or what?" Marcus laughed. "You'll hit me? You couldn't even save your own marriage. You think you can—"

"Stop," his father barked. "Both of you."

Marcus stepped back, but his smirk didn't fade. He'd won. He always won.

His father turned to Vincent. "Here's what's going to happen. You'll tell the board you're unfit for surgery. You'll cite exhaustion, stress, whatever excuse you want. Then you'll finish the projects for Marcus, move to records, and keep your head down. If you do that, I'll make sure you have enough money to survive. If you don't—" he shrugged, "—you'll find out exactly how little you matter."

Vincent looked at his father. At the cold eyes. The dismissive tone.

And for the first time, he understood.

Marcus must have been threatened. The recognition Vincent had gained from saving Henrietta Sterling's grandson. It scared them. It scared all of them. Because if Vincent was good enough to be noticed by someone like Henrietta Sterling, he might become a threat.

This wasn't about protocol. This was about control.

"You want me to lie," Vincent said quietly. "You want me to say I'm not good enough so Marcus doesn't have competition."

"Don't flatter yourself," Marcus snapped. "You're not competition. You've never been competition."

"Then why are you so scared?"

Marcus's face went pale. "I'm not—"

"You are," Vincent said. "You're terrified. Because I saved a child's life. Because someone important saw me. Because for one moment, I wasn't invisible."

His father slammed his fist on the desk. "Enough! You'll do as you're told, or you'll be out on the street with nothing. Do you understand me?"

Vincent looked at his father. At Brenda. At Marcus. At Amelia. His family.

The people who were supposed to love him.

"I understand," he said quietly.

"Good," his father said, leaning back. "Now sign the resignation papers. We'll announce it to the board tomorrow."

Vincent turned and walked toward the door.

He didn't look back at Amelia. Didn't argue. Didn't plead. The divorce was inevitable. He'd finally accepted it.

Amelia's voice followed him. "Vincent. The papers. Sign them."

He kept walking.

""" """"

The front door of the estate closed behind him.

Vincent stood on the steps, the cold morning air biting his cheeks. He should have felt broken. Should have felt empty.

But all he felt was a cold.

They were never going to love him. They were never going to respect him. They were never going to see him as anything other than the failure they'd created.

From inside, he heard Brenda's voice, Marcus's mother drifting through the door.

"He won't leave. He'll come running back to you as usual because he's a pauper who can only feed on what you give him."

Vincent's jaw tightened.

But he didn't go back inside. He didn't defend himself. He just walked to his car.

They were wrong. He wasn't going to run back. He wasn't going to beg. He wasn't going to sign his life away and disappear into the basement of a hospital that had never valued him.

Vincent started the engine. The old sedan rattled and coughed.

But Vincent didn't hear it. He was already somewhere else. Somewhere colder. Somewhere harder.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the white card.

The number. The answers. The De Luca legacy.

Vincent stared at it. His mother's secret. His grandfather. The truth he'd been running from.

I'm done being a doormat. I'm done letting them take everything from me. I'm done being nothing.

He pressed the gas and drove.