Chapter 101: Still Just a "Child"
Wendy had been observing the entire time.
Not the negotiation between the two sides.
Not even Ethan's performance.
What she was watching—
was everything Ethan didn't do.
He never emphasized success rates.
Never cited a single case.
Never hinted, even subtly, that "you've come to the right place."
And when James Whitmore's name was brought up—
he didn't react like someone who had just been handed leverage.
There was no flicker of being "hit."
Just a brief acknowledgment:
So that's the source.
That… wasn't normal.
If someone were "selling miracles," this would've been the perfect moment to lean in—
even a vague nod would've been enough to make the other party feel their money was well spent.
But Ethan didn't.
He confirmed the source—
and then returned the choice, untouched.
At that moment, Wendy realized something.
Ethan had never actually cared about whether they believed in miracles.
Whether it was the almost casual $100,000 fee—
or the promise that could be worth billions—
he showed no emotional reaction at all.
What he cared about was only two things:
—Are you willing to bear the consequences of your choice?
—Does the patient truly want to live?
Not "Can this be cured?"
But "Is this worth saving?"
This wasn't a transaction.
It was a filter—with razor-sharp boundaries.
Wendy had seen too many top-tier doctors.
Some were absorbed by power.
Some were tamed by money.
Others lost themselves in the illusion of being a "savior."
But the man in front of her—
seemed to be deliberately avoiding that path.
She reorganized Ethan's logic in her mind:
—He wasn't selling miracles.
—He was verifying whether the person being treated still possessed the will to live.
Which meant—
if the patient refused the condition,
it wasn't that they weren't chosen—
they had chosen to give up the right to be saved.
"Wendy… Wendy."
Bobby's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
"Hmm?"
"Why did you stop me just now?" Bobby Axelrod asked.
Wendy looked up at him.
"You were about to suggest letting Donnie come himself, right?"
"That way, the promise would be his to fulfill."
"Yes," Bobby said. "Is that a problem?"
"Two problems."
Wendy didn't soften it.
"First—if it were your son who was sick… would you let him bear that promise?"
Bobby fell silent.
"Second," she continued, "before you even suggested 'let Donnie come,' he had already made it clear—he wants your promise."
"He didn't reject your idea outright. But have you considered what he was actually refusing?"
Bobby frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
"If one day you needed treatment," Wendy said, looking straight at him,
"what do you think he would do?"
"Help you without hesitation?"
"Refuse outright?"
"Or… raise the price?"
Bobby exhaled. "I don't know."
"Exactly. No one knows," Wendy nodded.
"But one thing is certain—"
"You don't want to end up on the opposite side of him."
Her tone remained calm—but there was no softness in what she said.
"Before we came, you said you wanted to become his friend."
"If, at the very first step, you choose to take a shortcut—"
"protecting all of your own interests, while letting someone else take on the risk—"
"then you won't even qualify to be his friend."
Bobby fell into thought for a moment.
"Then what do you suggest?"
"Agree," Wendy said simply. "One hundred thousand dollars—and that promise. Get Donnie treated."
Bobby hesitated slightly. "That promise…"
"Yes." Wendy met his gaze. "The risk is high. The unknowns are even higher."
"But we both know—almost no one would refuse."
Bobby leaned back in his chair. "I'll think about it. Other than that… is there another way?"
Wendy shook her head.
"I don't know. He doesn't seem to like you very much… but he does seem to need you."
"He needs me?"
"He may not think so himself," Wendy paused, then added, "but that woman—Helen—believes he does."
"That part… I haven't fully figured out yet."
—
Helen pulled Ethan back into the consultation room.
This was his space.
She guided him back into his chair, then sat down in the patient's seat, facing him.
Ethan felt a little awkward. "What's with the sudden formality?"
"Ethan," Helen said seriously, "you need more friends."
"With who? That finance guy who only thinks in money and leverage?" Ethan's tone made his dislike obvious.
"Yes," Helen nodded. "You need friends."
"I have friends," Ethan replied. "My roommates. And you. And John."
Helen smiled.
Not dismissively—
but with a kind of gentle fondness, like looking at someone who hadn't yet realized how complicated the world was.
"We are your friends," she said softly. "But only having us… isn't enough."
Ethan frowned slightly. "I don't quite understand."
"From a certain perspective," Helen said, "he's still a newcomer. Which means he's in a phase where he needs allies."
She paused, then spoke more plainly.
"Some people put their calculations on the table—that's already a form of respect."
"Most people smile to your face… and stab you in the back."
"You don't have to treat him as a friend," she added gently. "Think of him as an ally."
"Give Bobby Axelrod a chance."
"At least understand what kind of person he is—before deciding whether to reject him."
Ethan fell silent for a few seconds.
"…Alright."
—
The four of them returned to the meeting room.
The atmosphere had clearly shifted.
No more probing.
No more testing boundaries.
It felt like a deal that had already been priced—
what remained was simply restoring the rhythm of normal interaction.
Helen refilled everyone's coffee.
This time, no one rushed to speak.
Wendy broke the silence first, her tone noticeably lighter.
"Are you free this weekend?"
Helen thought for a moment, then nodded. "Evening works."
"Then let's have dinner," Wendy said, glancing at Ethan. "No work talk."
Ethan instinctively opened his mouth—
then closed it again, simply nodding.
Bobby had already taken out his phone, his movements natural, without hesitation.
"Let's exchange numbers."
They traded contact details.
Watching this, a thought surfaced in Ethan's mind—
a slightly uncomfortable one.
In front of them—
he suddenly felt like a child.
All he needed to do was show up at the right moment, nod, and follow the rhythm.
It wasn't unpleasant.
In fact, it was oddly safe. Effortless.
But it made one thing very clear—
in this room, he was the only one who hadn't fully learned how to negotiate with the world.
Bobby put his phone away and stood up, his usual composure returning.
"See you this weekend."
"See you," Helen replied naturally.
Ethan stood as well and gave a small nod.
A few minutes later, the clinic door opened—and closed again.
Through the glass, Bobby and Wendy could be seen walking toward the corner of the street.
Silence returned to the clinic.
Ethan leaned back in his chair and muttered under his breath, a hint of self-mockery in his voice—
"…So in your eyes, I'm just a kid."