President Leonard Brooks stepped out of the private room just as Paul Whitaker was still laughing at Ryan Carter's claim of knowing him.
Leonard looked past Paul toward Ryan. "Oh, are you here with them?" His tone was polite but curious.
Paul straightened quickly. "Mr. Brooks, my name's Paul Whitaker. I'm the nephew of Director Whitaker in Westlake University's HR department. We met at my uncle's wedding last year."
Leonard nodded with mild recognition. "Ah, yes. I remember now. You're the one who studied abroad, right? I hear you did well for yourself." His tone was polite but distant.
Then his expression warmed as he turned toward Ryan. "Dr. Carter, what took you so long? George has been asking for you to come back for a toast."
The change in tone hit Paul, Rachel, and Emily like a slap. The warmth in Leonard's voice, the familiarity—it wasn't something you could fake.
Paul's face flushed. A moment ago, he'd been boasting about his connections. Now, the man he'd been name-dropping was treating Ryan with the kind of respect usually reserved for equals.
Ryan nodded toward Emily. "I just stopped to say hello to Professor Ross. She's been my academic advisor, and she's one of the most committed faculty members at Westlake. But I heard she's still on a temporary contract. I also heard the school only has one full-time slot opening this year, and she ranked first on the written exam. Do you think she has a real shot at getting it?"
Leonard didn't miss a beat. "If you're telling me she's as good as you say, then yes—one hundred percent."
Ryan smiled at Emily. "See? I told you it would work out. The president himself just said so."
Emily's cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and relief. "Ryan, thank you."
She had known him as a quiet, helpful student—popular among classmates, never one to brag. Now she was realizing he had far more influence than he ever let on.
"You're welcome," Ryan said simply. "Westlake would be losing one of its best if they let you go." He gave a polite nod. "Enjoy your dinner. I should get back."
"Of course," Leonard said, stepping aside for him. There was no mistaking it now—Leonard Brooks, one of the most influential figures in the university, was lowering himself to accommodate Ryan. And not out of formality, but genuine respect.
The banquet wrapped up an hour later. Leonard and Claire Turner had driven separately, each bringing a car to get the group to Westlake General Hospital. Leonard had skipped drinking so Ryan could perform his procedure later, and Claire—now pregnant—avoided alcohol entirely.
As Ryan left the restaurant to grab his coat, he saw that Emily and her relatives had already left. Paul and Rachel clearly weren't sticking around after being embarrassed, and they had no appetite left anyway.
Ryan was only outside for a minute before trouble arrived.
A group of young men with bleached hair and cheap leather jackets fanned out in front of him. The leader, mid-twenties, had a cigarette hanging from his lips and a thin steel chain around his neck.
"You Ryan Carter?" the man asked.
"Yes." Ryan's voice was calm. If this had happened a few years ago, he might have been intimidated. Now, with his physical conditioning at Tier 3 and years of training, they didn't worry him.
"Someone sent us to deliver a little message." The man jerked his chin, and two others stepped forward.
Ryan's muscles tensed—he was seconds from dropping the first one when a sharp voice cut in.
"Do you really want to try that?"
It was Luke Morgan, a former Army Ranger and one of Ryan's closest allies. He stepped between them, sidearm drawn, the muzzle pressing lightly against the leader's temple.
"You planning to lay a hand on him?" Luke's voice was low and cold, the kind that made people believe he'd pull the trigger without hesitation.
The swagger vanished instantly. These guys were street-level muscle—at worst, they carried knives. None of them were ready for a man with combat training and a gun in his hand.
One of them lost control of his bladder, the smell sharp in the night air. No one dared move.
"N-no mistake here, man. We must have the wrong guy," the leader stammered.
"Luke," came another voice—Daniel Turner, stepping out of the restaurant. "Put it away. We're not doing this in the middle of town."
Luke holstered the weapon without argument, but his glare stayed locked on the group.
Daniel's voice was firm. "You're all going to turn yourselves in. Assault in this city isn't something you walk away from."
The gang nodded frantically and shuffled off, still pale. By the time they reached the precinct, they were still shaking, muttering about how close they'd come to getting themselves killed.
At the hospital, Ryan was given a private suite for Leonard's treatment. Dr. Thomas, the attending neurosurgeon, was skeptical. "You're telling me this young man is going to treat a brain tumor? Without surgery?"
Leonard's voice was calm. "Just set up the room."
Minutes later, the suite was filled—George, Frank Turner and his wife, Daniel and Claire, and Luke all watched from the side.
Ryan's hands were steady as he set up the targeted electromagnetic therapy device—a prototype he had been developing, capable of delivering precision bursts to disrupt tumor growth without damaging healthy tissue.
Leonard closed his eyes as the session began. "Feels warm," he murmured. "Almost relaxing."
The treatment lasted a full hour. When it ended, Ryan leaned back, looking slightly pale. "We're halfway there. One more session, and you should be clear."
Leonard's voice caught. "Ryan… thank you."
"Let's confirm it first," Ryan said.
Dr. Thomas ran a new scan. His eyes widened as he read the results. "This… this is unbelievable. The tumor's mass has reduced by more than half. And it's showing no signs of further growth. If we operated right now, I'd give it a fifty percent success rate—something we didn't have before tonight."
When Leonard heard, he stepped out of the machine, crossed the room, and without hesitation dropped to one knee. "You saved my life."
The others stood in stunned silence. Frank Turner exhaled slowly. "I've seen skilled doctors before, but nothing like this."
George's voice was thick with emotion. "Ryan, with this kind of talent… you could change medicine forever."