The Rejected Trillionaire Surgeon

CHAPTER 2

~ YEARS LATER ~

“Who is this mystery surgeon?” one reporter shouted, camera lights flashing.

“Did he really save Senator Mark Layborne’s life with a scalpel and no backup?” another echoed.

Inside, nurses whispered in admiration and Doctors exchanged rumors in awe.

“Dr. Brighton?” whispered a resident, flipping through his tablet. “Just... Dr. Brightston in the surgical records?”

No one suspected the janitor pushing a mop quietly down the hall.

Jaxon Mason adjusted the brim of his cap and turned into the hallway that led to the executive suite. His face was calm, just like another unbothered janitor.

“Watch it, mop boy,” snapped Nurse Kim as she brushed past him, nearly knocking over his cleaning cart.

“Yes ma’am. Floors’ll be spotless by lunch.”

She simply ignored him as he resumed mopping the hallway. None would guess that he just spent six hours inside a surgery suite, operating on one of the most powerful men in the country.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. A quick glance revealed a message from Wells Fargo Offshore confirming a transfer of $8.6 million dividends from one of his holding companies. He deleted the message immediately and slipped the phone back in.

“Are you here to press your gadget or you’re supposed to clean up the floors!?”

Greg Harmon, the bald hot-tempered supervisor snarled, striding toward him.

I’m sorry, sir.”

“Out of my way,” Greg barked.

Jaxon gave a polite nod and stepped aside. The Supervisor didn’t spare him a glance.

Jaxon continued his mopping. The bald baboon had always disliked him for no reason.

“Jaxon!” came a familiar high-pitched voice.

He turned, heart dulling slightly.

Rosey Harrow stormed through the corridor, sunglasses covering her face even though it was evening. Her heels clacked as she passed, followed by her two friends giggling like overfed immigrants.

“There you are,” she said loudly, drawing attention. “I need the car keys. Governor Harrow’s sending me to a gala. Don’t be late picking me up this time, I mean it.”

Jaxon handed her the keys silently.

“You know,” she continued, her voice dipping just enough to twist the knife, “people are saying the CEO of this place is gonna show up tonight. Wish I was married to someone important.”

He nodded in approval. Ignorance was bliss.

She blew him a fake kiss, loud enough for Greg to scoff in jealousy. Jaxon stared after her, wondering again how he'd ended up in an open marriage with a woman who smelled like nemesis.

Back in the janitor’s closet, he locked the door, pulled off the blue cap, and sat quietly. After his parent’s death, he had returned to Hollowbridge as a Renowned, but hidden surgeon. Owner of Brattson Diagnostics, and a secret trillionaire with hundreds of companies and estates.

His phone vibrated again. This time, it was a secure alert. Senator Layborne had just woken from post-operation and was demanding to meet the surgeon who saved his life.

The senator was a close friend of Governor Harrow. His in-laws would be there. Rosey would be there. And everyone would be looking for the elusive Dr. Brightston.

He tapped into the intercom system from his phone.

“Tell the senator I’m unavailable. Transfer my gratitude through Chief Surgeon Glenn.”

“Yes, Dr. Brighton,” came the automated reply from his AI assistant.

Later in the day, before picking Rosey to the gala, he visited a quiet graveyard on the outskirts of town where his dead parent’s names were etched into the stone:

GEORGE MASON – Devoted Father

DANIELLA MASON – Beloved Mother

He knelt and placed fresh roses. He thought about the prophecy and laughed.

Whoever the prophetess was, had definitely been drunk on some local vodka. For here lay the remains of his parents and they had died a natural dead from severe leukemia.

And his wife, Rosey Harrow, daughter to the Governor of the state, looked nothing like a sister to him.

At the gala, DSS Lewis Brooks and Rosey were laughing too hard when Governor Harrow descended, Judy, his spoilt little daughter, clung to his arm in a backless crimson dress that could pay a year’s rent in Hollowbridge’s slums.

She wore a frown when she spotted Jaxon across the room.

“Why is he here?”

She hissed, adjusting her neckline like she needed to defend her high-end fragrance from poverty.

“Dad, I told him not to show up.”

Governor Harrow narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said you'd be working tonight, cleaning up something useful.”

Jaxon gave a respectful nod from across the room. “Governor,” he said.

Harrow scoffed loudly. “Don’t you ‘Governor’ me like we’re equals, boy. I see you managed to put on a jacket, obviously borrowed, isn't it?”

Guests chuckled, but Jaxon didn’t flinch.

Madame Clinton Harrow stepped forward, drink in hand. “Why don’t you go check on the toilets, Jax? That’s your area, isn’t it? Unless you’re here to beg for leftovers.”

Jaxon smiled faintly. “No, I'm just here to support my wife.”

“Support?” Rosey sneered. “You are the support?”

He smiled, digesting his shame.

“Yu'nno, the only support you can give is when you're handling a mop.”

Laughter erupted.

Then his phone buzzed. It was Director Charles Harrow, the brother of the governor. The arrogant director of his Hospital. The man who never missed a chance to remind him of his supposed worthlessness.

Jaxon turned slightly and answered.

“What the hell are you doing not at the hospital, you bloody janitor?!” barked the Director. “You think this is a holiday?”

“I wasn’t scheduled tonight, sir.”

“Well, you are now. Drop whatever peasant gala you snuck into. Dr. Shirley Moss just landed and she's being transferred from central Diagnostics Branch. If she doesn’t feel like royalty by the time she walks through our doors, I'll make you regret being a useless human.”

Jaxon exhaled slowly. “Understood.”

“And Jaxon,” Charles added with a sneer audible through the line, “Try not to look like a disaster; Shirley’s not coming to meet a peasant union. Look good, comb your hair, and don't smell like a trashcan.”

Click.

Rosey leaned over. “Was that Uncle Charlie? Oof. He sounds pissed, probably because you’re here pretending to belong.”

“Looks like duty calls. I'll see you at home.” Jaxon replied quietly, already stepping back.

“Yeah, run along.”

Jaxon left the ballroom smiling. The Director never knew that he owned the very hospital they mocked him for cleaning.

But he wasn’t ready to reveal that just yet.

He had plans.