Chapter 100: Capital's Calculations
Bobby Axelrod fell silent for a few seconds.
It wasn't hesitation—
it was calculation.
Then he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice on purpose.
"This… I'd like to discuss with you alone."
The air seemed to freeze.
Wendy and Helen both turned toward him almost at the same time—one calm, the other alert.
Before anyone else could react, Ethan spoke, completely at ease.
"That won't be necessary."
Bobby was visibly caught off guard.
Ethan's tone was light—but left no room for compromise.
"Anything related to this clinic, I don't keep from her."
"If that's a problem, we can end this now."
This time, it was Bobby who found himself unprepared.
He instinctively glanced at Wendy.
But Wendy had already looked away.
Her expression offered neither support nor objection—
just a polite detachment, with a faint hint of dissatisfaction.
As if she had stepped out of the decision—
while making her stance perfectly clear.
Bobby exhaled softly, a small smile forming, like he'd finally let go of a habitual need for control.
"Alright," he said.
"James Whitmore."
The moment the name was spoken, both Ethan and Helen showed subtle recognition.
Helen's gaze sharpened instantly.
Bobby continued,
"The public believes his Alzheimer's diagnosis was a misdiagnosis."
"But that's not the truth, is it?"
His eyes locked onto Ethan.
"He was sick. And… the symptoms were already evident."
Wendy's eyes shifted slightly—
this was the first time she had heard this.
Bobby didn't look at her. He kept going.
"Later, I was told… he came here."
Ethan didn't interrupt.
"After that, his cognition, memory, decision-making—everything recovered."
Bobby paused deliberately.
"Not slowed."
"Recovered."
Ethan's mind flickered.
By the time this reached you, it's probably been exaggerated more than once…
It wasn't recovery. Just stabilization—slowed down to match normal aging.
But he didn't correct him.
The room fell into a silence so deep it felt like you could hear breathing.
Wendy turned her gaze back to Ethan.
There was no shock.
No doubt.
Everything she had observed earlier suddenly made sense.
And now—
her focus was sharper than before.
As if she were trying to see the real "cards" Ethan was holding.
Ethan didn't ask any more questions.
He already understood the source of the information.
And why it had been buried so thoroughly.
He gave a small nod.
"Alright. Bring the patient in."
Bobby paused, slightly surprised.
He clearly hadn't expected—
that once everything was laid out, the response would become this direct.
"However—" Ethan added.
Bobby listened carefully.
"Before he comes, there's something we need to make clear."
Ethan interlaced his fingers, his tone still calm.
"Treatment here isn't free."
"The fee is one hundred thousand dollars."
Bobby nodded without hesitation.
There was no such thing as a free lunch.
But this price—
felt almost unreal.
Given Donnie's condition, even if it were multiplied tenfold—or a hundred times—
neither he nor Donnie would hesitate to sign.
"Also," Ethan continued,
"I'll need one more thing from you."
He looked straight at Bobby.
"A promise."
Bobby's gaze finally settled.
"What kind of promise?"
Ethan looked at him and spoke slowly.
"Sometime in the future—when I make a request of you…"
"You'll do everything in your power to fulfill it."
He paused, then added evenly,
"Even if… I ask you to give away half your wealth."
Silence fell over the room again.
Bobby didn't answer immediately.
In that instant, he understood—
This was the core of the deal.
He picked up his coffee, but didn't drink it. He simply held it there, letting the weight of it sit in his hand.
A hundred thousand dollars—
in his world, that wasn't even worth noting.
But a promise—
had no price, no timeline, no measurable return.
This wasn't a contract.
It was an open-ended exposure to risk.
And the issue wasn't the risk itself—
it was that he had absolutely no control over it.
In the market, Bobby never feared risk.
As long as the rules were clear and the triggers defined, even a low probability bet was still a bet he'd take.
But this—
had no boundaries.
No settlement date.
Whether it would be called upon, and when—
had nothing to do with him.
He looked up at Ethan.
The young doctor hadn't named a price beyond the fee, hadn't laid out terms—
he had simply placed a choice on the table.
—You can refuse.
—But if you accept, you accept everything that comes with it.
This wasn't extraction.
It was selection.
A way of deciding who was worth his intervention.
Bobby suddenly understood what unsettled him.
It wasn't whether the return was large enough—
it was that the cost couldn't be defined.
He thought of what Hall had said:
If it's just for your employee, it's not worth it.
But if it's for yourself… or to gain another card, then maybe it is.
Now, he understood.
If he refused, the employee would die—and the world would move on.
But if he agreed—
for the first time, he would be granting something beyond his control a claim on him.
A claim that could be exercised at any time.
Bobby set the coffee down.
In his mind, the calculation was already complete.
When faced with a deadlock, he had always chosen to introduce a new variable.
"Doctor," he said, "if it weren't me here today—but my employee—what would you do?"
Ethan seemed to have expected the question.
"The same," he replied. "One hundred thousand dollars—and a promise from your employee."
Bobby's interest sharpened. "Then—"
"Bobby."
Wendy Rhoades spoke suddenly.
Her tone was gentle—
but absolute.
"It's getting late."
She turned to Ethan and Helen.
"I'm sure Dr. Rayne and Ms. Helen are both tired."
"Let's leave it here for today."
Then she looked back at Ethan, a hint of hesitation in her voice.
"Dr. Rayne, could you leave us a number? Bobby could invite you to dinner sometime—so we can talk more in depth."
Ethan glanced at her, slightly surprised.
He didn't fully understand her intention.
But he understood very clearly—
what Bobby had been about to say next.
After a brief pause, he shook his head.
"Sorry. If you need me, you can come to the clinic."
"As for dinner… I've been quite busy lately, so—"
"Ethan."
This time, it was Helen.
Her tone was just as gentle, but she stepped in naturally, taking control of the situation.
"It is getting late."
"I'm fine, but Dr. Rayne is already tired."
She looked at the two across the table.
"How about this—I'll take him to rest for a bit."
"Give us five minutes, and then we can decide where to go for dinner. Alright?"
Ethan looked at Helen.
Bobby looked at Wendy.
The two women nodded at the same time.
The next second, Helen had already risen, lightly taking Ethan by the arm and leading him out of the meeting room.
(End of Chapter)