Chapter 99: When Capital Meets Faith
The two of them stepped out of the consultation room together.
In the waiting area, Bobby and Wendy were already on their feet.
Bobby was the first to extend his hand. His smile was easy, natural—not overly warm, but perfectly calibrated to give off the impression of someone approachable.
"Hi—you must be Dr. Rayne."
"I'm Bobby Axelrod."
"This is my colleague, Wendy Rhoades."
Ethan's expression shifted slightly.
Both names sounded… familiar.
He reached out and shook Bobby's hand. "Hello, I'm Ethan Rayne. This is Helen Wick."
A brief round of introductions followed. On the surface, everything felt relaxed.
"Let's move to the meeting room," Ethan said. "We can sit and talk."
The clinic's only meeting room was small, without unnecessary decoration, but clean and quiet.
Helen poured coffee for everyone, flipped the sign outside to "Closed," and then took a seat beside Ethan.
From the moment they sat down, Bobby and Wendy's attention never left Ethan.
It wasn't casual observation.
It felt more like evaluating a startup founder pitching for investment—
Was he stable? Reliable? Worth backing?
The intensity of their gaze made Ethan slightly uncomfortable.
It even stirred up some unpleasant memories.
This didn't feel like a doctor meeting patients.
It felt like a high-pressure interview.
Bobby spoke first.
"Dr. Rayne, you look very young. Since this is your clinic—if you don't mind me asking, how old are you?"
"Twenty-seven," Ethan replied modestly. "I opened this clinic this year. Right now, it's just Helen and me."
Bobby nodded, his tone sincere. "Twenty-seven, licensed, and running your own practice—that's impressive."
Wendy picked up smoothly, her voice gentle.
"Dr. Rayne, may I ask which medical school you attended? And your specialization? No particular reason—I have a medical background myself."
Ethan answered, "Columbia University. Neurosurgery and trauma psychology."
Wendy nodded, not pressing further.
But Ethan's unease only deepened.
This didn't feel like small talk.
It felt like they were cross-checking his credentials, line by line.
He steadied himself and steered the conversation back.
"You mentioned earlier—you're here to consult about a patient."
"Do you have the records? I can take a look."
Bobby handed over a file.
Inside were diagnostic reports from multiple top-tier hospitals.
Pancreatic cancer. Late stage.
Nearly every report reached the same conclusion—
At most, two months left.
Ethan finished reading and closed the file.
"The diagnosis is consistent. Imaging matches the conclusions."
He looked up at Bobby.
"If so many hospitals have already reached the same verdict… what exactly are you hoping I can do?"
Bobby didn't avoid the question.
"We want to confirm… whether there's still a chance for a 'miracle.'"
Ethan fell silent for a moment.
Then he asked in return,
"And why would you think… that a small clinic like mine could produce a miracle?"
Bobby answered casually, almost offhand.
"We were passing by. Saw the sign. Thought we'd give it a try."
Ethan clearly didn't believe him.
He looked at Bobby, saying nothing.
Then he shook his head.
"If that's the case," he said evenly, "then I'm sorry—I can't help you."
"I suggest you leave."
He paused, then added, "If it's convenient, it would be best if the patient comes in personally. I prefer speaking to the patient directly."
Bobby glanced at Wendy. She replied in a calm, even tone,
"We just want to confirm in advance that bringing him here wouldn't be a waste of time."
"After all… his time is limited."
What kind of logic is that? Ethan thought. His time can't be wasted, but mine can?
Before he could respond—
Helen spoke first.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried weight.
"With all due respect," she said, "I think what you're doing right now is what's truly wasting time."
The room fell briefly silent.
"If the patient's time is limited," Helen continued, "then so is the doctor's."
"You brought records—but not the patient. That alone makes it impossible to move forward with any treatment."
She paused, then looked directly at Bobby.
"Please don't waste everyone's time."
Clean. Direct. No hesitation.
Bobby didn't argue.
Instead, he spread his hands slightly, his tone turning straightforward.
"Alright. Let's stop going in circles."
"Dr. Rayne. Ms. Helen. You know who I am, don't you?"
Ethan studied him again.
Familiar—but he couldn't place it.
He shook his head. "Sorry. I don't."
"I do," Helen said.
Ethan looked at her, surprised.
Helen gave a concise introduction:
"Founder and CEO of Axe Capital. A hedge fund managing tens of billions."
"A major player in finance, with a personal net worth around ten billion."
She glanced at Wendy.
"And this should be one of his psychologist."
Ethan finally connected the dots.
So it really is them…
A financial titan.
And a psychologist—essentially the firm's internal therapist.
"I see," Ethan nodded. "So—is it a family member who's ill?"
"No," Bobby said. "An employee."
Ethan showed no change in expression.
"Then the question remains the same."
"You've already seen every doctor worth seeing."
"Why come here? And why… without the patient?"
Bobby was silent for a few seconds.
"I heard something," he said. "That this place… might be different."
There it is.
Ethan leaned forward slightly. "What exactly did you hear? I need the full details—including the source."
"That's not important. What matters is that I now know—"
"Sorry." Ethan cut him off immediately. "That is important."
His tone left no room for negotiation.
"Here, transparency is a prerequisite for treatment."
"If you refuse to explain the source, then this conversation ends here."
Bobby glanced at Wendy.
She gave a small nod.
Only then did he speak again.
"A business rival."
"I could've made 120 million dollars off him."
"In the end, he traded this information… for me letting him go."
"As for where he got it—"
Bobby paused briefly.
"I can only guess… it's connected to the government."
Silence settled over the room again.
Ethan leaned back in his chair and nodded slightly.
This time—
he believed him.
At least, most of it.
The room stayed quiet for a few seconds.
Ethan didn't speak immediately.
He simply watched Bobby.
After a moment, it became clear—
Bobby wasn't planning to say anything more.
"You said," Ethan continued, his tone steady,
"That a single piece of information led you here… and cost you 120 million."
He leaned forward slightly.
"I need to know—what exactly was that information?"
(End of Chapter)