"Master, let me."

Nathaniel stood straight as a rod, that confident, the-prize-is-mine smile on his face.

Watching him, I couldn't name what I felt.

He'd done the same thing in my last life, shoving ahead of everyone to be first at the trial.

Back then I thought it was genuine confidence. Only later did I understand he simply wanted to put on a show for Hope Henson.

A pity his skill never matched his nerve. He misidentified one ingredient while gathering herbs, poisoned himself, and ended up paralyzed.

In the end he took his own life, bitter to the last.

He picked up the small knife from the table, measured a line across his palm, and prepared to cut.

"Wait!"

Hope's voice shot up. She was nearly out of her chair before the word finished.

Two strides carried her to Nathaniel. She clamped down on the hand that held the knife, her voice shaking.

"Are you out of your mind? It's a drug trial, not a death match. What are you doing taking a blade to yourself?"

Every person in the hall froze.

So did I.

Not because of what she did, but because of how she said it.

That urgency. That panic. That terror of being one second too late.

I had never once seen it on her face.

In my last life, she was married to me for forty years.

For forty years she was always gentle, always composed, always the picture of a proper wife.

I thought that was simply who she was.

A little cool, a little reserved. Nothing wrong with that.

But watching her now, gripping Nathaniel's hand and refusing to let go, I finally understood.

She could panic. She could come undone. She could throw everything aside for one person.

It just was never me.

Nathaniel flinched too and instinctively tried to pull his hand back. "Hope, this is the Henson rule for choosing an heir. The trial has to be done on yourself."

"To hell with the rules." She cut him off. "It's a drug trial. Bring a dog to test it. A rabbit, anything. Why does it have to be you bleeding?"

Antony's face darkened at her words.

His hand came down hard on the table.

"Insolence!"

"A rule the Hensons have kept for centuries, and out of your mouth it's garbage? You're just a girl. What do you know?"

Hope's chin came up, her lips pressed white.

She didn't let go. If anything, she gripped Nathaniel's hand tighter.

Looking at those two clasped hands, I felt a dull ache go through my chest.

I thought of our wedding night in the last life.

She sat at the edge of the bed in her red bridal gown, and when I lifted the veil, she gave me one look.

It was a faint look, so faint I'd assumed she was only tired.

Now I knew it wasn't fatigue. It was a heart already dead.

She had never spared me a single thought beyond duty.

From beginning to end, the only person she cared about was Nathaniel.

And I was a substitute she'd had no choice but to accept, a man she'd lowered herself to marry to keep the Henson legacy alive.

No. Not even a substitute.

I was a tool. A tool for running Henson Pharmaceuticals.

Antony was still raging, his voice climbing. "For centuries, every heir of this family has gone through it the same way."

"The clotting salve won't kill anyone. One cut to the palm is nothing."

"You're just a girl. Step aside and stop making trouble here."

Hope didn't move.

She stood in front of Nathaniel like a wall.

And she picked up that sharp little knife.

"Father, if you insist he put a blade to himself, then I'll do it for him."

"I mean it."

Antony shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he looked years older.

“Today's contest……ends here.”

Hope didn't lower the blade. She stared straight at him. “Then what about the heir?”

Antony was silent for a long time.

I spoke again, and my voice came out steadier than I expected.

“Master, my answer hasn't changed.”

“I'm out.”

Then I turned, pushed open the door of the main hall, and walked out.

As I stepped over the threshold, I heard Antony let out a long sigh.

I didn't look back.

The next day.

I got to the office half an hour earlier than usual.

The elevator reached the seventeenth floor, and the moment the doors opened, I heard voices.

They were coming from the president's office.

“I don't agree.”

Antony's voice wasn't loud, but it was hard.

“No one else can handle his current workload.”

“Then he can take his time learning.” Hope wouldn't let it go. “Dad, since Nathaniel is the heir now, then everything in Vincent's hands should be handed over.”

“The general manager's seat, control of the drug R&D department, everything tied to the Henson family business. Not one thing stays with him.”

“If you feel sorry for him, you shouldn't have made that rule in the first place.”

“Now the rule is set, the man is chosen, and you still want to keep both sides happy. You can't have it both ways.”

Another silence.

Then Nathaniel's voice rose, warm and mild. “Master, Hope just has a quick temper. Don't take it to heart.”

“Everything Vincent has done for the Hensons over the years, I've seen all of it, and I'm grateful for it.”

“But Hope has a point too. The heir is settled, so the authority and responsibilities should be made clear. It's better for the company that way.”

“Of course, how exactly to arrange it is still your call, Master.”

“Enough.” Antony's voice carried the weariness of a man forced to concede. “I'll talk to Vincent.”

I went back to my office and started packing.

My phone rang.

It was Antony's assistant, asking me to come up.

I picked up the folder on my desk and walked to the president's office.

Antony sat behind the desk, a cup of tea in front of him.

He hadn't touched it. It had gone stone cold.

“Vincent.” He paused. “About yesterday……”

“Master, I understand.” I set the folder down on the desk. “Everything I've been handling is in here. The progress on the R&D department's projects, the partners we're coordinating with, the budget plan for the second half of the year. It's all in there.”

Antony looked at the folder. He didn't take it.

His hand rested on the armrest, fingers tapping once, then again, slow and even.

“Vincent……”

The door swung open.

Hope walked in, Nathaniel behind her.

“Dad, how did it go?”

Antony was silent for two seconds, then reached out, took the folder, and flipped through it.

“It's settled.”

“Starting today, Nathaniel is head of the drug R&D department.”

Standing behind Hope, Nathaniel heard it, and the corner of his mouth moved.

It was a small curve, but I caught it.

He stepped forward, his tone carrying just the right amount of sincerity. “Vincent, you've worked hard all these years.”

“Don't worry. The foundation you built, I'll take good care of it. Your hard work won't go to waste.”

I looked at that fake smile of his and said nothing.

“All right, go get back to work.” Antony waved a hand at me. “I'll have my assistant arrange the handover later.”

I nodded and turned for the door.

I'd taken barely two steps when Hope's voice stopped me.

"Wait."

"Since you're not a Henson anymore, the things that belong to the Henson family should go back to them, shouldn't they?"

I knew exactly what she meant.

I drew the black jade tablet out from inside my coat.

It was the token of the Henson family heir.

In my last life, after I took it from my master's hand, I had kept it on me always.

Not because I clung to the title. Because to me it was his acknowledgment of me, and my promise to the Hensons.

I turned, crossed to Nathaniel, and held the tablet out.

"Here."

He reached out and took it, glanced down, and the curve at the corner of his mouth finally slipped free.

As he moved to put it away, I said, "Wait."

Hope's gaze sharpened, and she leaned half a step forward.

She thought I was about to take it back.

I didn't look at her. My voice stayed level.

"The CardioFlow capsule in development. The core formula uses one ingredient, red sage, and it has to be the Crestbrook-grown variety. From any other region the potency drops by forty percent."

"The extraction process for the ligusticum can't use supercritical CO₂. Only ethanol extraction, or you lose too much of the active compound."

"And the pilot-batch trials for the current run still have three rounds left to go. The raw records are in the file box in the second cabinet in the R&D department."

Nathaniel went blank for a beat. The smile on his face faltered.

"One more thing. CardioFlow is in Phase II clinical trials, with three hundred and twenty patients already enrolled."

"Once you take over, watch the adverse-event reporting closely, especially the liver and kidney markers. The last round had one case of elevated transaminase. The FDA already has it on file."

I looked him in the eye.

"Remember those points if you can. But there's one thing I want to be clear about."

"Not a single ingredient in that formula, not the dosage, not the source region, not the processing method, can be changed."

"The ratio of salvianic acid to ligustrazine is fixed. Touch any one of them and the potency goes wrong, and when it goes wrong, people die."

Hope laughed.

"Don't worry. Nathaniel's grasp of pharmacology is no worse than yours. He'll do it better than you ever did."

I saw the contempt in her eyes and didn't argue.

I turned for the door.

My hand had just touched the handle when Nathaniel's voice came from behind me.

"Wait."

I stopped.

"What now?"

He came toward me slowly, unhurried, his leather shoes clicking against the carpet.

"Since you're no longer a Henson," he said, smiling, "the things you have that belong to the Hensons can't just be that tablet, can they?"

I frowned.

"What are you getting at?"

"What I'm getting at," he said, planting himself in front of me, "is that all these years you've eaten the Hensons' food, used the Hensons' things. The car you drive, the house you live in. All of it belongs to the Hensons."

"Giving it all back to the family. That's not unreasonable, is it?"

The office went quiet.

I turned my head, slowly.

First at Nathaniel. The smile was still on his face.

Then at Antony, leaning back in his chair. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

Last at Hope.

She stood beside the desk, arms folded across her chest, chin lifted just slightly.

Not the faintest move to stop any of it.

I pulled my gaze back and thought for a moment.

Then I spoke, slowly.

"I came to the Hensons at twelve. As of today, that's exactly fifteen years."

"The first five years, my master taught me to identify herbs, to cut them, to process them, to compound them."

"Every morning I was up at five. I memorized the origin, the properties, the channels, the contraindications of every ingredient three times over. I filled seven notebooks."