Chapter 2

"Director Mitchell, are you out of your mind? You signed the wrong box!"

My assistant, Dr. Julian Carter, practically jumped out of his chair. His eyes were glued to the red-stamped document in my hand.

"This is the final allocation sheet for 'NeoGenesis-1'! Tyler Mitchell’s bio-markers rank number one in the state! The system automatically flagged him as the perfect match!"

Julian leaned over my desk, slamming his hands down, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

"You signing 'REJECTED' in that box... do you have any idea what that means?"

"It means this patient does not qualify for our free compassionate-use drug program," I replied. I didn't even look up. My voice was as flat as if I were commenting on the weather.

Julian was completely dumbfounded.

"How does he not qualify? Is it a genetic mismatch? Is his body too weak to tolerate it? Director Mitchell, the federal government only gives our state one single dose of this drug a year. It’s worth 1.2 million dollars, fully covered! It’s his only lifeline!"

I raised my head. My gaze drifted past Julian, landing on the young man sitting in the waiting area outside my glass office. It was Tyler Mitchell.

Through the glass door, the hope on his pale face instantly shattered the moment he saw me shake my head.

"Director Mitchell..."

Julian tried to argue again, but I tossed the file folder right back into his chest.

"I said he doesn't qualify, so he doesn't. The applicant's paperwork is compromised."

The office door pushed open.

Tyler looked ghostly pale, his breathing shallow and ragged. He held onto the doorframe, his voice trembling violently.

"Aunt Lynn... is there something wrong with my lab results?"

I looked at him.

He was twenty. The prime of his life. But unfortunately, he had inherited the worst genetic defect of the Mitchell family.

I flipped open his background file, my fingers tapping heavily on the names listed under parents: "Father: Thomas Mitchell," "Mother: Samantha Vance."

"Your application failed the review," I said coldly.

Tyler froze, taking two desperate steps forward. "How is that possible? My parents did everything. They notarized all our financial assets, they even put up our two estates in the Hamptons as collateral to prove that although we have money, we fully meet the criteria for emergency compassionate relief..."

"Did they submit these documents themselves?"

"Yes."

I let out a cold laugh and threw my pen onto the desk.

"Then it's officially over. You're not getting it."

Julian was practically shaking with anxiety. "Director Mitchell, what the hell are you playing at? This file went through initial, secondary, and final reviews! Five department heads signed off on this! Who are you to reject it with a single word?"

"Because I am the Chief Director of the Compassionate Use Program," I said, leaning back in my leather chair, staring at him coldly. "And I hold the veto power."

Julian gasped, his face turning from anxious to furious.

He looked around the room. The other assistants in the office quickly bowed their heads, pretending to be buried in their work. No one dared to make eye contact.

"This is murder! Do you even know who Tyler’s father is? He’s the CEO of Vance Enterprises!"

"Dr. Carter," I cut him off, my voice sharp as a whip. "Are you a doctor of this state hospital, or are you a lapdog for Vance Enterprises?"

Julian’s face instantly flushed a deep, angry purple.

Tyler’s eyes were red, fighting back tears as he struggled to stand straight.

"Aunt Lynn, if my parents missed some paperwork, I'll call them right now to fix it. If my medical evaluation is being questioned, I can do another bone marrow biopsy. Please. Just give me a straight answer. I want to live."

He lowered himself completely, begging for his life.

Looking at his face, my mind suddenly flashed back to twenty years ago.

Back then, I was ten thousand times more pathetic than he was now.

I had knelt in the pouring rain on the concrete steps of the foundation's office, desperately grabbing the director's leg, banging my head on the ground until I bled. *"Please, just check the accounts! The grant was approved! Why is it suddenly gone? My daughter is on a ventilator, she can't wait!"*

No one even looked at me. The security guards dragged me through the mud like a dead dog.

I closed my eyes, forcing those blood-soaked memories back into the dark corners of my mind.

When I opened them again, I looked at Tyler.

"I’ve made myself clear. You do not qualify. Get out."

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