Chapter 18 — An Unexpected Patient
The hospital corridors gleamed under the fluorescent lights as Kyle straightened his white coat. His steps slowed when the head doctor called him into the office.
"I wanted to see you to congratulate you in advance," the doctor said warmly. "I know your hard work will pay off very soon."
Kyle bowed slightly, his voice steady with gratitude. "Thank you so much, Sir."
The doctor slid a neatly folded envelope across his polished desk. "I've written you a letter of recommendation. While I'd love to keep you here, I want you to have this, just in case. You've done excellent work, Mr. Morisawa."
Kyle accepted the letter with both hands, his chest swelling with pride. "It's an honor to work under you. To be recommended by you… it's already a dream come true. I promise to keep expanding, to meet and surpass your expectations."
The doctor chuckled, waving him off like a proud mentor. "Good boy. Don't worry too much."
Kyle stepped out of the luxurious office, still smiling, slipping the letter into his pocket. His heart raced with excitement, but before he could bask in the moment, a whisper cut through the hallway.
"Hey… you."
Kyle stopped and glanced around. The corridor was almost empty. He frowned. "Are you… calling me?"
At the far end stood a figure in suspicious attire—oversized sunglasses, black gloves, a flowing dress, and a scarf wrapped tightly around her face. She nodded, beckoning him closer.
Cautious, Kyle approached. "Why are you dressed like that? Do you need help?"
"Are you a doctor?" the woman asked.
"Well… technically, yes, but—"
Before he could finish, she grabbed his arm and dragged him into a nearby storage room. She shut the door firmly, whipped off her scarf and glasses, and exhaled.
"Okay. Now you can scream."
Kyle blinked at her, unimpressed. "Why would I scream? Is there something on you?"
Her lips parted, disbelief flashing across her face. "You don't know who I am?"
Kyle tilted his head. "Am I supposed to? Are you famous? Do you need treatment?"
She stepped closer, cornering him against the wall, her palm braced beside his shoulder. Her perfume lingered between them. "Unbelievable. You really don't know me. God is humbling me again today."
Kyle's thoughts raced. Psychiatric case, maybe? Best to stay calm and cooperative.
"How can I help you?" he asked gently. "I can see you're an important person. Let's… move somewhere safe."
He slipped sideways from her arm, checked the hallway, and guided her toward a small consultation room. She followed, cheeks faintly flushed, her eyes darting curiously to his hand holding hers.
Once inside, Kyle motioned for her to sit. "Alright. Could you tell me your name again?"
"You can call me Ann Lee," she murmured.
"Ms. Lee," Kyle nodded. "I'll call another doctor to—"
"No, wait." She grabbed his hand, then quickly released it, embarrassed. "Could you do a quick check yourself? I've been feeling weak… and my stomach aches."
"I see," Kyle said professionally. "I'll schedule you for a scan so we can—"
"I already know what I have," she interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper.
He leaned closer. "Sorry, could you repeat that?"
Her cheeks turned crimson as she leaned into his ear, her words rushed but soft. "I have diarrhea. I need something to stop it. Right now."
Kyle froze, then pressed his lips together to hide the laughter threatening to break through. Her ears were burning red with embarrassment. Clearing his throat, he forced a professional tone. "Alright. I'll prescribe you something to calm your stomach. But you should still come back for a check-up to find out the cause."
She nodded quickly, eyes downcast, clearly mortified.
By her insistent request, Kyle escorted her discreetly out of the hospital, making sure no one noticed her. As she slipped back into her scarf and glasses, Kyle's thoughts lingered. Maybe she's a rich girl… too embarrassed to let anyone see her weakness.
He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. What a strange patient.
Build Construction
Hello, Mr. John," Will said, the smile edged with something that made John's palms go damp. "I hope you don't mind that I came without an appointment. Interrupting seemed… unnecessary."
"How did you get in?" John demanded. His voice tried for control and missed.
Will's reply was too casual. "Don't get nervous. Sit. Let's talk."
John sank into the opposite chair, forcing a steadiness he didn't feel. "What do you want?"
"Open the document on your desk," Will said.
John flipped it open and skimmed the headings. His face tightened. The longer he read, the whiter his fingers grew. When he reached the last pages and saw the notice—Notice of Acquisition—the pen dropped from his hand and clattered on the lacquered wood.
"This can't be," he breathed, panic threading his tone. "You—this is illegal. Build Construction is mine."
Will sat back, one leg over the other, watching the scene like a man observing a science experiment. "Oh, it was yours," he corrected, soft as silk. "Until your board and investors were offered something better. Loyalty tends to change its price when debts are tall and options are scarce."
John shot up. "You think you can just walk in and take everything? I built that company!"
Will rose without haste. There was no rush in him—only an unbending quiet. He stepped closer until the air between them felt heavy. "I didn't merely take your company," he said, voice low and precise. "You can still stay but you are under Lumina Construction now. "And the next time your eyes stray toward one of my own, I'll crush and expose you till there will be nothing left."
Silence stretched, thick as molasses.
For the first time in decades, he knew what being powerless tasted like.
"I have high hopes for you, Mr John, don't let me down," Will said, straightening his jacket. Then he left, leaving John trembling in the wreckage of his own office.
Outside, Jin was waiting beside the car, expression taut. Will climbed in without a word.
"Did you find anything?" he asked.
"We pulled airport CCTV," Jin said. "She vanished around the ladies' room. We have her manager with us. I'm sorry, sir."
"Let's go. I'll talk to him myself."
By the time Leeann reached her house, the manager—Joe—was on his knees, hands trembling, humiliation written plain on his face. Leeann's front door swung open and she stepped in, brushing air as if it might hold memory.
William!" she exclaimed, startled. "What are you doing here? And why is Joe—?"
Will's voice cut through the fluttering warmth of her surprise. "Where were you?"
Leeann blinked, trying to fit the morning into place. She pulled Joe up and shepherded him toward the door with a gentleness that had never been part of the public image. "Poor Joe," she chided, more theatrical than cruel. "You must be exhausted. Go home and rest."
Will watched her, eyes hard. "He's fired."
Joe's voice cracked. "Miss Leeann—"
"You can keep your job if you leave now," she said, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She watched him go, then turned back to Will. "You're not firing him too, are you?"
"I'm firing anyone who fails at your security," Will said evenly. "For hours, nobody knew where you were after your flight. That's unacceptable."
Leeann flinched. "William—" she started, anger flaring.
"I'm responsible for you," he continued, unblinking. "If you vanish, I imagine the worst. Tell me what you want and I will give it. Tell me what you lack."
She hesitated, then surprised herself; she stepped forward and hugged him, tight and real. "I'm okay," she murmured against his shoulder. "I'm back. I missed you."
Will's jaw loosened the tiniest degree. "Tell Marry you'll come to dinner," he said, voice softening only enough to be dangerous. "Don't try to go anywhere alone."
As he left, Leeann watched him go. The house sighed closed behind him, heavy with reinforced locks and a life where protection was a business. She took her medicine and, absurdly, found herself thinking of the doctor she'd seen that day—what excuse she might find to see him again. The thought made her smile, a small, guilty thing that nudged her toes into the air.