- The Rustic Healer's Roadside Diagnosis

The dusty mountain road stretched endlessly ahead of me as I adjusted the worn strap of my canvas bag. Three years. That's all the time I had left.

My master's final words echoed in my mind as I walked down from the secluded peaks where I'd spent the last eighteen years. "Boy, your Innate Pure Yang Body is both a blessing and a curse. Find your fated partner within three years, or the fire within will consume you."

I touched the jade pendant hanging around my neck. The marriage contract folded inside had yellowed with age, but the terms were clear. Bella Morgan of the Morgan family in New York City. My bride-to-be.

The sound of screeching tires snapped me from my thoughts. A sleek black sedan had pulled over about fifty yards ahead, smoke rising from under its hood. Two women stood beside it, their designer clothes a stark contrast to my simple mountain garb.

As I approached, three men emerged from a beat-up truck that had stopped behind the sedan. Their intentions were written clearly across their leering faces.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" The largest of the three, a man with gold teeth, circled the women like a predator. "Two pretty ladies all alone on this empty road."

The older woman, elegant in a way that spoke of refined breeding, stepped protectively in front of the younger one. "We don't want any trouble. Our car just broke down."

"Trouble?" Gold Teeth laughed, revealing more metal than enamel. "We're here to help, aren't we, boys?"

His companions snickered. One pulled out a switchblade, testing its edge with his thumb.

I could have walked past. Should have, perhaps. But my master's teachings rang clear: "A true martial artist protects the innocent."

"Excuse me," I called out, my voice carrying the mountain accent that marked me as an outsider.

All five heads turned toward me. The thugs burst into laughter at my appearance. Faded jeans, a simple cotton shirt, and boots that had seen better days. I looked exactly like what I was—a country boy far from home.

"Beat it, farm boy," Gold Teeth sneered. "This doesn't concern you."

I continued walking toward them, my steps unhurried. "I think it does."

The knife-wielding thug lunged first. His blade whistled through the air where my head had been a split second before. I caught his wrist, applied pressure to a specific point, and watched the weapon clatter to the asphalt.

"What the—" he started to say, then crumpled as I struck a nerve cluster in his neck.

Gold Teeth and his remaining companion rushed me together. Their movements were clumsy, telegraphed. I sidestepped the first punch, caught the second man's fist, and twisted. The satisfying pop of a dislocated shoulder filled the air.

Gold Teeth found himself alone, facing a mountain boy who'd just disabled two grown men in less than ten seconds.

"You boys should find a new line of work," I suggested, dusting off my hands.

They scrambled back to their truck, half-carrying their unconscious friend. The engine roared to life, and they disappeared in a cloud of dust and shame.

I turned to face the two women, both staring at me with wide eyes.

"Thank you," the older woman said, her voice steady despite what had just happened. "I'm Chloe Reed, and this is my niece, Evelyn."

Evelyn Reed. Even her name sounded expensive. She was beautiful in the way that city women often were—polished, perfect, untouchable. Her long black hair framed an oval face with features that belonged in magazines. Her professional suit emphasized curves that made my pulse quicken.

"Ethan Hayes," I replied, noting how her gaze swept over my rustic appearance with barely concealed disdain.

"Where are you headed, Mr. Hayes?" Chloe asked, her manner more gracious than her niece's.

"New York City. I have business there."

Evelyn's expression shifted to skeptical amusement. "Business? What kind of business?"

"I'm getting married," I said simply.

Both women exchanged glances. Evelyn's laugh was like silver bells, but edged with mockery.

"Married? To whom, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Bella Morgan of the Morgan family."

The laughter died on Evelyn's lips. Her expression transformed from amusement to shock, then to something approaching pity.

"The Morgan family?" she repeated slowly. "One of New York City's most prominent families?"

I nodded, pulling out the yellowed marriage contract. "It was arranged when we were children."

Chloe examined the document with keen eyes. "This appears legitimate," she murmured to her niece.

Evelyn's gaze traveled from my worn boots to my windblown hair. "You're serious. You actually believe Bella Morgan is going to marry... you?"

Her tone stung, but I'd expected as much. My master had warned me that city folk judged by appearances.

"The contract is binding," I said simply.

"Perhaps we could give you a ride," Chloe offered, shooting her niece a warning look. "It's the least we can do after you helped us."

Evelyn looked ready to protest, but good breeding won out. "Of course. Though I should warn you, this wedding of yours might not go as planned."

We managed to get their car running with some roadside mechanical knowledge I'd picked up from one of my senior sisters' letters. Soon we were heading toward New York City, the skyline growing larger with each mile.

I sat in the back seat, watching the countryside give way to suburbs, then to the gleaming towers of the metropolis where my new life awaited.

"So what exactly do you do, Mr. Hayes?" Evelyn asked, her eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

"A little of everything. My master taught me medicine, martial arts, and various other skills."

"Medicine?" Chloe perked up with interest. "What kind of medicine?"

"Traditional Chinese medicine, mainly. Acupuncture, herbal remedies, diagnosis techniques passed down through generations."

Evelyn's snort was barely audible. "How... quaint."

We'd been driving for about an hour when Chloe suddenly gasped, her hand flying to her chest. Her face went pale, then ashen.

"Aunt Chloe?" Evelyn's voice sharpened with concern.

"Can't... breathe..." Chloe wheezed, her elegant composure cracking as pain lanced through her.

Evelyn pulled over immediately, panic flooding her features. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

I was already moving, climbing over the seat to examine Chloe. Her pulse was irregular, her breathing shallow. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the car's air conditioning.

"It's her heart," I said, my training taking over. "Advanced myocarditis. The muscle inflammation has reached a critical stage."

"What are you talking about?" Evelyn demanded, cradling her aunt's head. "She's never had heart problems!"

"The condition can remain dormant for years," I explained, checking Chloe's eyes, noting the slight yellow tinge. "But stress, excitement, or physical exertion can trigger an acute episode."

Chloe's breathing became more labored. Her lips were taking on a blue tinge.

"We need to get her to a hospital!" Evelyn cried.

"There isn't time," I said grimly. "She has maybe three minutes before cardiac arrest."

"Then do something!" Evelyn's composure finally shattered, tears streaming down her perfect cheeks. "You said you know medicine! Help her!"

I hesitated for a fraction of a second. Using my master's techniques would reveal abilities that most people couldn't comprehend. But Chloe Reed was dying, and I couldn't let that happen.

"Move aside," I commanded, my voice carrying an authority that made Evelyn immediately comply.

I placed my hands on Chloe's chest, finding the specific pressure points my master had taught me. This technique required precise manipulation of qi flow through the meridians—knowledge that had been passed down through my sect for over a thousand years.

"What are you doing?" Evelyn whispered, watching as I pressed my palms against her aunt's heart.

I didn't answer, focusing entirely on channeling my internal energy through the specific acupoints. The Pure Yang qi in my body responded, flowing through my hands into Chloe's failing cardiovascular system.

The effect was almost immediate. Color returned to her cheeks. Her breathing steadied. The irregular heartbeat smoothed into a normal rhythm.

Chloe's eyes fluttered open, confusion replacing the pain that had twisted her features.

"What happened?" she asked weakly.

"You had a heart attack," I explained, removing my hands from her chest. "The immediate crisis has passed, but you need to see a cardiologist as soon as possible."

Evelyn stared at me as if I'd just raised the dead. "How did you... what did you just do?"

"I stabilized her condition using traditional pressure point therapy," I said, deliberately keeping my explanation simple.

"In three minutes? Without any equipment or medication?" Evelyn's voice was barely above a whisper.

I checked my watch and gathered my belongings. "I have to go."

"Wait!" Evelyn called out as I opened the car door. "Who are you really? And don't tell me you're just some country boy who happens to know ancient medical techniques!"

I paused, one foot already on the asphalt. "Sometimes the most extraordinary things come in the most ordinary packages, Miss Reed."

I stepped out of the car and shouldered my bag. Behind me, I could hear Evelyn calling my name, but I didn't look back.

- Scorned by One, Sought by Another

The Morgan family villa sprawled across three acres of manicured lawns, its colonial facade gleaming white against the afternoon sun. Red silk banners fluttered from every pillar, announcing the engagement of Bella Morgan to Damien Pierce, heir to the Pierce Construction empire.

I stood at the ornate iron gates, my worn canvas bag over one shoulder, the yellowed marriage contract in my hand. The security guard looked me up and down with undisguised contempt.

"Service entrance is around back," he sneered.

"I'm here for the engagement party," I said calmly.

His laugh was harsh. "Right. And I'm the mayor of New York City. Beat it, kid, before I call the cops."

I held up the contract. "Tell them Ethan Hayes is here to see Bella Morgan. About this."

The guard squinted at the document, his expression shifting from amusement to confusion. He pulled out his radio, muttering into it. Minutes later, a woman in an expensive burgundy dress approached the gate.

Margaret Morgan, Bella's mother. Even through the iron bars, her disdain was palpable.

"So you're the mountain boy," she said, not bothering to hide her disgust. "I should have expected you'd show up eventually."

"Mrs. Morgan," I nodded respectfully. "I've come to honor the marriage contract between our families."

Her laughter was cold as winter wind. "Honor? Look at yourself, boy. Look at what you're wearing, how you speak, where you come from. Then look at this." She gestured at the magnificent estate behind her. "You think my daughter belongs with someone like you?"

"The contract was signed by both our families," I replied evenly. "My master saved your husband's life eighteen years ago. This was the agreed payment."

"That was a different time," Margaret's voice dripped with condescension. "We've moved beyond such primitive arrangements. Bella is marrying into the Pierce family. Real money. Real power. Not some backwoods fantasy."

The gate swung open, but not in welcome.

"However," she continued, "since you've come all this way, you might as well see for yourself how foolish this notion is. Come in. Let everyone see what Bella was supposed to settle for."

I followed her up the winding driveway, past luxury cars that cost more than most people's houses. The party was in full swing on the back terrace. Men in tailored suits, women dripping with jewelry, all of them radiating the casual arrogance of inherited wealth.

Conversations died as I appeared. Heads turned. Whispers began.

"Who's the peasant?"

"Is he lost?"

"Security must be slipping."

At the center of it all stood Bella Morgan, resplendent in a white designer gown that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. She was beautiful, I had to admit. Delicate features, perfectly styled golden hair, a figure that had clearly benefited from the finest personal trainers money could buy.

Beside her stood Damien Pierce, every inch the wealthy young master. His suit was tailored to perfection, his smile practiced and predatory.

"Bella," Margaret called out, her voice cutting through the party chatter. "Your intended has arrived."

Every eye in the place fixed on me. The whispers grew louder. Someone snickered.

Bella's expression cycled through confusion, recognition, and finally, mortification. Her cheeks flushed crimson.

"What is the meaning of this?" Damien demanded, his arm tightening possessively around Bella's waist.

I stepped forward, pulling out the marriage contract. "Miss Morgan, I'm Ethan Hayes. I've come from the mountains to honor the agreement our families made eighteen years ago."

The silence that followed was deafening. Then someone started laughing. Others joined in. Soon the entire terrace was filled with mocking laughter.

"Oh, this is rich," a woman in pearls gasped between giggles. "The country mouse thinks he's going to marry our Bella!"

"Look at those clothes," another guest chortled. "Did he walk here from a farm?"

Bella's mortification transformed into fury. "How dare you embarrass me like this? At my own engagement party!"

"The contract—" I began.

"I don't care about any stupid contract!" she shrieked, snatching the yellowed paper from my hands. "Look at you! You're nothing! A nobody from nowhere!"

She held up the contract for everyone to see. "This is what I think of primitive arrangements and mountain boys who don't know their place!"

With theatrical flourish, she tore the contract in half. Then in half again. The pieces fluttered to the marble floor like dying leaves.

The crowd erupted in applause and laughter. Someone raised a champagne glass in mock toast.

"There," Bella declared, her voice shaking with rage and humiliation. "Now disappear before you embarrass yourself further."

Margaret stepped forward, pulling out a thick envelope. "Here's ten thousand dollars. More money than you've probably ever seen. Take it and go back to whatever mountain you crawled down from."

I looked at the money, then at the torn pieces of the contract, then at the faces surrounding me. Rich, pampered, cruel faces that had never known real hardship or genuine honor.

"Keep your money," I said quietly.

"Excuse me?" Margaret's eyebrows shot up.

"I said keep your money. You're going to need it."

Bella laughed shrilly. "Need it? We're the Morgan family! We don't need anything from country trash like you!"

I met her eyes directly. "You will regret this moment for the rest of your life."

"The only thing I regret," she spat, "is that I ever had to breathe the same air as you."

Damien Pierce stepped forward, puffing out his chest. "I think the lady made herself clear. Time for you to leave, farmer boy."

"Or what?" I asked mildly.

His face darkened. "Or I'll have you thrown out like the garbage you are."

"Damien, please," Bella touched his arm. "Don't waste your energy on him. He's nothing. Less than nothing."

The crowd pressed closer, sensing drama. Their faces were hungry, excited by the spectacle of wealth and privilege crushing rural innocence.

"Did you really think," Margaret addressed me with theatrical pity, "that a family like ours would lower ourselves to your level? That our daughter would throw away her future for some mountain hermit?"

"The contract was made in good faith," I replied. "Your husband's life was saved. Payment was agreed upon."

"Times change," she laughed. "People rise in the world. We've risen far above old debts to country doctors."

"Then we have nothing more to discuss," I said simply.

I turned to leave, but Bella's voice stopped me.

"That's right, run away! Scurry back to your mountains where you belong! And if you ever show your face here again, I'll have you arrested for trespassing!"

Her words followed me as I walked toward the gate. Behind me, the party resumed with renewed energy, the guests feeding off the drama they'd just witnessed.

I had almost reached the driveway when commotion erupted behind me. Car engines, running footsteps, excited voices.

"They're here!"

"Oh my God, it's really them!"

"The Reed family!"

I turned to see three black limousines pulling up the circular drive. Expensive cars, but more than that—cars that commanded respect. The license plates alone marked them as belonging to New York City's most powerful family.

The first limo's door opened, and Chloe Reed stepped out. She looked radiant, her earlier heart episode completely resolved. Her elegant black cheongsam drew appreciative murmurs from the crowd.

The second door opened, and Evelyn Reed emerged. If she had been beautiful in the car, she was breathtaking now. Her burgundy evening gown hugged her figure perfectly, her hair styled in an intricate updo that probably cost more than most people's rent.

But it was their destination that sent shockwaves through the crowd.

Margaret Morgan rushed forward, her face bright with desperate hope. "Mrs. Reed! Miss Reed! What an incredible honor! Welcome to our humble—"

They walked right past her.

Damien Pierce stepped forward, his most charming smile in place. "Ladies, I'm Damien Pierce. Perhaps you'd like to—"

They ignored him completely.

The entire crowd watched in stunned silence as the two most influential women in New York City bypassed every wealthy, powerful guest at the party.

They walked directly to me.

"Mr. Hayes!" Chloe's face lit up with genuine joy. "You're indeed here!"

- The Outcast's Bold Claim

The Morgan family terrace fell silent as if someone had muted the world itself. Two hundred of New York City's elite stood frozen, champagne glasses halfway to their lips, their conversations dying mid-sentence.

Evelyn Reed, the untouchable CEO of Hua Mei Biomedical, stood directly in front of me. Her burgundy gown caught the afternoon light, making her look like something from a magazine cover. Behind her, Chloe Reed's elegant smile was warm and genuine.

"Mr. Hayes," Evelyn said, her voice carrying clearly across the silent terrace. "I was hoping we'd find you here."

I could practically hear jaws dropping around us. Margaret Morgan looked like she'd been struck by lightning. Bella stood frozen, her mouth open in shock.

"Miss Reed," I nodded respectfully. "Mrs. Reed. Good to see you both looking well."

Chloe laughed, the sound bright and musical. "Thanks to you, I'm feeling better than I have in years."

Damien Pierce stepped forward aggressively, his face flushed with confusion and anger. "Excuse me, but who exactly are you to interrupt our celebration?"

Evelyn turned to look at him with the kind of cold stare that could freeze hell over. "I don't recall asking for your opinion."

"This is my engagement party," Damien pressed on, clearly not reading the room. "I think I have a right to know why New York City's most eligible woman is talking to some country nobody."

"Country nobody?" Chloe's eyebrows arched dangerously. "Young man, you clearly don't know who you're talking about."

Margaret Morgan finally found her voice, though it came out as a strangled whisper. "Mrs. Reed, surely there's been some mistake. This boy is just a mountain vagrant. He came here with some ridiculous story about an old marriage contract."

"Marriage contract?" Evelyn's eyes sharpened as she looked at me. "You were engaged to someone here?"

Before I could answer, Bella finally came to life. She rushed forward, her designer gown rustling, desperation written across her face.

"Miss Reed! There's been a terrible misunderstanding! Yes, there was an old contract, but it was just a formality. My family never intended to honor such a primitive arrangement."

"Primitive?" Chloe's voice carried a dangerous edge. "You consider a life debt primitive?"

"Life debt?" Margaret's face went pale.

"Eighteen years ago," I said quietly, "my master saved Arthur Morgan's life. The marriage contract was the agreed payment."

Arthur Morgan had been silent until now, standing at the edge of the crowd looking increasingly uncomfortable. At the mention of his name, he stepped forward reluctantly.

"Now see here," he began, but his voice lacked conviction. "That was a long time ago. Circumstances have changed."

"Circumstances?" Evelyn's voice could have cut glass. "Your granddaughter just publicly humiliated the man who saved your life."

She gestured to the torn pieces of the marriage contract still scattered on the marble floor. "And destroyed the proof of your family's honor."

Arthur's face went from pale to ashen. He looked at the contract pieces, then at me, then at the two most powerful women in New York City standing in my defense.

"Bella," he said hoarsely. "What have you done?"

"Grandfather, I can explain—"

"Explain?" Arthur's voice cracked like a whip. "Explain how you've brought shame on our entire family?"

He moved faster than I expected for a man his age. His hand connected with Bella's cheek in a sharp slap that echoed across the silent terrace.

"You foolish girl!" he roared. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Bella stumbled backward, her hand pressed to her reddening cheek, tears streaming down her face. "Grandfather, please—"

"Silence!" Arthur turned to me, his face etched with desperation. "Mr. Hayes, please, there's been a terrible mistake. My granddaughter is young and foolish. Surely we can work something out."

I looked at him steadily. "The contract has been fulfilled, Mr. Morgan. Your granddaughter made her choice very clear."

"But—"

"The matter is closed."

Damien Pierce, apparently unable to read the situation, chose that moment to speak up again. "Now wait just a minute. I don't care who these women are. Bella is my fiancée now, and I won't have some mountain peasant disrupting our—"

"That's enough." Evelyn's voice was so cold it could have frozen fire. "One more word from you, and I'll make sure the Pierce family construction company never works another day in New York City."

Damien's face went white. The Pierce family was wealthy, but they depended on city contracts to stay that way. Everyone knew Evelyn Reed had the connections to make good on that threat.

"Miss Reed," I said, drawing her attention back to me. "You didn't come here just to defend my honor. What do you need?"

Her composure cracked slightly, showing the desperation underneath. "You're right. I need your help. Desperately."

The crowd pressed closer, straining to hear. This was better than any soap opera they'd ever watched.

"It's my grandfather," Evelyn continued, her voice lower now. "He's dying. The doctors say he won't make it through the night."

Chloe's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "The best physicians in the country have tried everything. Nothing works."

"And you think I can help?" I asked.

"After what you did for Aunt Chloe in the car..." Evelyn's voice trailed off. "You're our last hope."

I studied her face. The proud, untouchable CEO of Hua Mei Biomedical was asking for my help. The irony wasn't lost on me, considering where we stood.

"Any illness can be cured," I said simply. "Any injury can be healed. It's just a matter of having the right knowledge."

Margaret Morgan let out a derisive snort. "Really? This boy thinks he can cure someone the best doctors in the country have given up on?"

"Shut up," Arthur hissed at his daughter-in-law. "Just shut up."

Evelyn's eyes searched my face. "You really believe you can save him?"

"I don't believe anything," I replied. "I know."

The confidence in my voice seemed to steady her. She nodded slowly. "Then please, come with us. Now."

"Of course."

As I moved toward the limousines, Bella suddenly rushed forward. "Wait! Miss Reed, surely you can't be serious about trusting him. He's nobody! A mountain vagrant with no education, no credentials, no—"

"No what?" Chloe's voice was deadly quiet. "No ability to save lives? Unlike your family, which apparently specializes in destroying them?"

Bella's face crumpled, but she pressed on desperately. "But the engagement! What about our engagement to the Pierce family?"

"What about it?" Evelyn asked coldly.

"If he saves your grandfather, if he somehow manages that impossible feat, then what? Will you reward him? Will you—" Bella's voice broke. "Will you steal him from us?"

The question hung in the air like smoke. I could see the calculation in Bella's eyes, the dawning realization of what she might have thrown away.

"That's not your concern anymore," I said quietly. "You made your choice."

I turned to Arthur Morgan one last time. "You might want to prepare a coffin, Mr. Morgan. You're going to need it soon."

His face went gray. "What do you mean?"

"Just a suggestion," I replied. "Based on what I can see."

I walked toward the limousines, leaving the crowd to interpret that cryptic warning however they chose. Behind me, I could hear frantic whispers and Bella's muffled sobs.

Evelyn fell into step beside me. "What did you mean about the coffin?"

"I'll explain later," I said. "Right now, we need to focus on your grandfather."

As we reached the car, she caught my arm. "Ethan, I need you to understand something. If you can't save him, if he dies tonight, I don't know what I'll do."

Her vulnerability was unexpected. This powerful woman who commanded respect from everyone in New York City was showing me her deepest fear.

"He won't die," I said simply.

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because I haven't met an illness I couldn't cure yet."

She studied my face, looking for any sign of doubt or false bravado. Whatever she saw there seemed to convince her.

"All right," she said softly. "I'm trusting you with the most important person in my life."

"I won't let you down."

We climbed into the limousine, leaving the stunned party behind us. Through the rear window, I could see the crowd still standing frozen on the terrace, their world turned upside down in the span of ten minutes.

"The hospital?" the driver asked.

"New York City General," Evelyn replied. "Emergency."

As we pulled away from the Morgan estate, Chloe reached over and squeezed Evelyn's hand. "He saved my life in a car on the side of the road. Imagine what he can do in a proper medical facility."

"That's what I'm hoping for," Evelyn whispered.

The drive to the hospital took twenty minutes through downtown New York City. Neither woman spoke much, both lost in their own thoughts. I spent the time centering myself, preparing for whatever I might find.

New York City General Hospital was the finest medical facility in the region. As our limousines pulled up to the main entrance, I could see the controlled chaos typical of a major emergency. Ambulances, staff rushing back and forth, the constant rhythm of life and death.

We were met at the entrance by a man in an expensive suit who looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Miss Reed," he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "There's been no change. Dr. Finch is still with him."

"Uncle Marcus," Evelyn replied. "This is Ethan Hayes. He's here to help."

Marcus Reed looked me up and down with barely concealed skepticism. "With respect, Evelyn, this is hardly the time for alternative medicine."

"He saved Aunt Chloe's life today," Evelyn said firmly. "Completely cured her heart condition in minutes."

Marcus's skepticism wavered slightly. "Minutes?"

"I watched it happen," Chloe confirmed. "Whatever he did, it worked."

We took the elevator to the VIP wing on the seventh floor. The hallway was filled with members of the Reed family, all looking haggard and desperate. Conversations stopped as we approached.

Outside the corner suite, a distinguished man in a white coat was speaking quietly with several family members. His expression was grave.

"Dr. Finch," Evelyn called out.

The doctor turned, his face lined with exhaustion and defeat. "Miss Reed. I'm afraid there's nothing more we can do. Your grandfather's organs are shutting down one by one. It's only a matter of time now."

"How long?" Evelyn's voice was barely a whisper.

"Hours at most. He won't see midnight."

The words hit the family like physical blows. Someone started crying quietly. Others just stared at the floor in shock.

I stepped forward. "Dr. Finch, I'd like to examine the patient."

The doctor looked at me with tired annoyance. "I'm sorry, but family only. And qualified medical personnel."

"He is qualified," Evelyn said quickly. "Dr. Hayes is here at my request."

"Doctor?" Finch's eyebrows rose. "What medical school? What credentials?"

"That's not important right now," Evelyn pressed. "What matters is that he might be able to help."

Dr. Finch shook his head wearily. "Miss Reed, I understand your desperation, but we've done everything humanly possible. The finest specialists in the country have examined your grandfather. His condition is terminal."

"Terminal conditions are just puzzles that haven't been solved yet," I said quietly.

"Puzzles?" Dr. Finch's voice carried a note of offense. "Young man, I've been practicing medicine for thirty years. Victor Reed is dying of multiple organ failure brought on by a rare autoimmune condition that has no known cure."

"No known cure doesn't mean no cure exists."

"This is neither the time nor place for philosophical debates about medical theory," Dr. Finch said sharply. "Mr. Reed will not survive the night. I've informed the family to prepare for the inevitable."

The hallway fell silent except for the quiet sounds of grief from the family members. Evelyn's face was a mask of pain and desperation.

"Who says that this old man won't live past midnight tonight?"