Chapter 3
Chapter 3:
Rylie moved on to the next voicemail, which turned out to be from Rory Carter, one of the most respected physicians at the Military General Hospital.
A note of flattery colored Rory’s tone as he spoke.
“Rylie, I’m really in a bind. One of my old friend’s sons has battled a rare illness for years, and his health is declining again. Those special pills you provided aren’t helping him any longer. Is there any chance you could stop by and take a look p>
Pulling out her phone, Rylie dialed him back.
“I’ll come to the clinic after classes tomorrow. Tell him to swing by then p>
Rory cut in with an apologetic sigh.
“He’s stuck in the VIP wing at the hospital, and strict protocols mean he can’t leave p>
Drumming her fingers on the tabletop, Rylie pressed for details.
“Enough stalling, Rory. Who’s the patient p>
After a pause, Rory’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“It’s Brad Morgan. Yes, the grandson of General Sean Morgan. This isn’t just any case — the Morgans have discreetly reached out to top doctors nationwide. They’re offering twenty million dollars to anyone who can cure him p>
An arched eyebrow was all the reaction Rylie gave. The Morgan family was legendary, led by Sean Morgan, a formidable general — a man even the president deferred to.
The name Brad Morgan stirred memories. She remembered reading about him in the news. Only thirty and already hailed as the youngest admiral of his era, his string of military victories had made headlines everywhere.
That revelation puzzled Rylie. Something could actually bring down a man like Brad?
Her next move was to check her encrypted contract inbox, and sure enough, there sat an official invitation from the National Healthcare Department.
I@te$t ¢#@pter$ In g@!novel$.c0m
Working under the codename “Healing Hand” on the dark web, she had built a reputation for tackling medical mysteries and had eventually gathered an elite team of her own. It seemed natural that the government would come looking for her.
Keeping her composure, Rylie responded,
“I see the message. That reward would tempt anyone. I’ll take the case p>
Meanwhile, word of the Morgan family’s urgent call reached the Kirks as well. Leland sprang into action, already strategizing and dialing contacts in hopes of getting their foot in the door.
Always just out of reach of upper society, the Kirk family saw this as their chance. Healing Brad would mean acceptance into the highest social circles at last.
Another rumor had set the city abuzz: the wealthiest family in Kouhron had landed in Crolens, promising a staggering sum to anyone who could lead them to their missing daughter. People all across town dropped everything, desperate for a share of the reward.
The next day, the shrill ring of her phone yanked Rylie from sleep. She stretched and dragged herself out of bed.
On the other end was Timothy Powell — her research advisor — barely masking his irritation.
“Rylie! I told you to handle the data organization, but you’re nowhere in sight. Are you trying to get yourself kicked out of my research group? Stacey was here right at dawn. I expect you here immediately p>
She gave no answer, ending the call instead as her eyes flicked to the clock.
The digits read ten o’clock.
Her mind flashed back to the previous night. Lost in old medical texts, she had worked long hours sorting through ancient prescriptions, and now she had overslept, letting Timothy’s task slip her mind.
A yawn escaped as she flipped open her laptop, fired off a quick email, and hurried to get ready. Backpack in tow, she stepped out the door.
Her motorcycle zipped through the city streets until she pulled up in front of the university lab. After finding a spot, she strode toward the entrance.
She pulled out her pass and swiped it, only to see the screen blink and flash a denial — her access had been revoked.
At that moment, the lab doors swung open and out came Stacey, flanked by two upperclassmen from the research team.
A mocking smile twisted one guy’s lips as he spotted her dilemma.
“So, Rylie, you think you’re special? Turning up late, ditching your work — looks like you finally pushed Professor Powell too far. Lab access is locked, and your days here are over p>