Chapter 6 - A Toast to Success
The penthouse ballroom of the Grand Dynasty Hotel was ablaze with crystal chandeliers and the clinking of champagne flutes.
Dr. Julian Hayes, now sixty years old and sporting an expensive platinum watch, beamed as he accepted congratulations from the city's medical elite. He was a picture of refined prestige, wearing a custom-tailored tuxedo, his graying hair combed back with pomade.
“To our new Dean!” a younger doctor toasted enthusiastically. “Dr. Hayes, your breakthrough research on cardiovascular medicine will change the country!”
Hayes chuckled arrogantly, sipping his champagne. “Hard work, gentlemen. And knowing which patients are worth saving, and which are simply... beyond hope.”
The laughter in the inner circle was abruptly cut short when the heavy oak doors of the ballroom slammed open with a sound like thunder.
The music died instantly. Guests turned their heads in irritation, but irritation quickly gave way to confusion.
A lone young man stepped into the hall. He wore a simple, unbuttoned navy overcoat over a crisp white shirt. Behind him walked Raymond, carrying a silver bucket filled not with iced champagne, but with murky, murky puddle water scooped straight from the gutter outside.
“Who let this hoodlum in?” an administrator scoffed. “Security! Get this lunatic out of here!”
Julian Hayes casually adjusted his glasses, peering across the brightly lit room. When his eyes finally locked onto Damon’s sharp, predatory features, the champagne flute slipped from his fingers.
Smash!
The glass shattered against the marble floor, sparkling wine splashing across Hayes’s polished shoes.
“You...” Hayes stammered, stepping backward into his colleagues. “You’re dead. You died in South America!”
“Disappointed, Dr. Hayes?” Damon walked forward with steady, rhythmic footsteps. Every step seemed to strike Hayes’s heart like a war drum. “Five years ago, you declared my father dead of natural cardiac arrest at 3:14 AM.”
The ballroom fell into dead silence. The medical board members looked nervously between Hayes and the intimidating newcomer.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Hayes snarled, his face flushing crimson with guilt and panic. “Security! Remove this criminal!”
Four hotel security officers lunged toward Damon. Raymond moved like a shadow—two swift, clinical palm strikes and a sweeping kick sent three guards crashing into the dessert buffet table, while the fourth was pinned to the floor, gasping for air.
Damon didn't even look at the fallen guards. He stopped inches away from Julian Hayes.
“Dr. Hayes,” Damon whispered, his voice sending shivers down the spines of everyone listening. “Did my father beg for oxygen while you injected the potassium into his IV line?”
Hayes trembled violently, sweat pouring down his forehead, soaking his silk collar. “You have no proof! You’re slandering me!”
May you like
Damon snapped his fingers.
Raymond lifted the silver bucket and dumped the freezing, foul gutter water directly over the newly appointed Dean’s head.
