I watched William Vance's face contort with another spasm of pain. His earlier demands had curdled into sothing resembling humility, but I wasn't in a forgiving mood.
"Please leave my ho imdiately!" I repeated, my voice firm.
Vance clutched his chest and doubled over, a strangled sound escaping his throat. His n exchanged worried glances.
"Mr. Knight," one of them began, "my employer is in severe distress. Surely you—"
"Surely I what?" I cut him off. "Should drop everything because William Vance snaps his fingers? I'm not a dog to be summoned."
The man stepped toward , his face darkening. "Listen, you arrogant little—"
I didn't let him finish. My hand moved faster than his eyes could track, connecting with his cheek. The impact sent him flying across my living room, crashing into the wall with enough force to rattle my bookshelves.
Silence fell over the room. The man slumped to the floor, conscious but dazed. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
"Anyone else want to threaten in my own ho?" I asked calmly.
Vance's other n tensed but remained in place, suddenly reassessing the situation. The injured man struggled to his feet, wisely keeping his distance.
The door to my apartnt opened, and I turned to see Isabelle standing there. Her eyes took in the scene—her uncle doubled over in pain, his man nursing a bloodied lip, the tension thick in the air.
"What's happening here?" she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew.
"Your uncle and his n thought they could bully into providing dical treatnt," I explained. "I disagreed."
Isabelle's gaze fell on her uncle, who was now shaking with pain. For a mont, I saw a flicker of family concern in her eyes, quickly replaced by sothing harder.
"William," she said, "did you really expect to co here and make demands of Liam?"
Vance couldn't answer, his breathing too labored.
"I told you before we arrived," she continued, "that Liam doesn't respond well to demands. He isn't one of your employees."
Her support ward sothing in . I'd expected her to plead her uncle's case, but instead, she was standing firmly in my corner.
She turned to . "Liam, I won't ask you to help him. That's entirely your choice. But I would appreciate it if you'd at least hear what I have to say before I leave."
"You're leaving?" I asked, surprised.
"Yes. I won't stay where my family has been disrespectful. But before I go, I want you to know that while my uncle can be arrogant and stubborn, he's also vital to several charities that depend on his guidance. His absence would affect many innocent people."
With that, she turned and walked out, leaving with her subtle ssage: Help him not for his sake, but for others'.
I looked at William Vance, now a pitiful shadow of the powerful man who'd sneered at just yesterday. His assistant was frantically calling for a car to take him back to the hospital.
I let them suffer for another hour.
The pain grew worse. Vance's face turned an alarming shade of gray, his breathing shallow and irregular. The hospital had already proven useless. Without my help, he might actually die.
Did I care? The old Liam would have rushed to help anyone in pain. The new Liam... was still figuring out where his boundaries lay. Always read at the source—*.
Finally, Vance himself broke the silence. "Knight," he gasped, sweat pouring down his face. "I... apologize. My behavior was... unacceptable. Please... I'm begging you."
The sight of William Vance—one of Havenwood City's most powerful n—begging for help brought no satisfaction. Just weariness.
"Why should I help you?" I asked quietly.
"Because," he managed between labored breaths, "you're a healer. And I... I need healing."
Simple words, but they struck . Was that who I wanted to be? A healer who withheld treatnt out of pride or spite?
I sighed and walked to my dicine cabinet. Inside were nurous pills and potions I'd prepared, each labeled ticulously. I selected a crude-looking black pill, roughly made but potent.
Returning to Vance, I held it out. "Take this."
His assistant eyed it suspiciously. "What is it? It looks like dirt."
"It's a Heart Stabilizing Pill of my own creation," I replied. "It will clear the blockages in his vessels and restore proper blood flow."
Vance hesitated only briefly before taking the pill from my palm. His desperation had overco his skepticism. He swallowed it dry, wincing at the bitter taste.
For several monts, nothing happened. Then his eyes widened in shock. He pressed a hand to his chest, his expression shifting from pain to disbelief.
"The pain," he whispered. "It's... gone. Completely gone."
I nodded, unsurprised. "The pill will continue working for the next twenty-four hours, clearing all blockages. After that, you should follow a proper diet and exercise regin to prevent recurrence."
Vance stood slowly, testing his newfound relief. "This is... miraculous. I've seen specialists across the country. None could do what you just did with a single pill."
"None of them have my knowledge," I said simply.
"What do I owe you?" he asked, reaching for his wallet.
I waved him off. "Consider it a favor to Isabelle. Now please leave. I need rest."
Vance nodded, still looking shell-shocked by his sudden recovery. His n gathered around him, helping him toward the door despite his insistence that he could walk on his own.
As they reached the threshold, I heard one of his n—the one I'd struck earlier—lean close to Vance and whisper, "Mr. Vance, maybe your discomfort is caused by this kid's tricks! Otherwise, why couldn't the hospital find anything, yet you instantly felt better after taking his pill?"
I froze, my hand tightening on the doorfra. The implications were clear: I had sohow caused Vance's illness to force him to seek my treatnt. The accusation hung in the air, poisonous and insidious.
Vance turned back to look at , doubt creeping into his expression. Our eyes t, and I wondered if my act of rcy had just created a dangerous new enemy.
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