Chapter 205 The Tables Turn
Guadalupe was taken aback.
'Mr. Rogers knew about the Hall of Benevolent Medicine? Could it be that those two nobodies had connections with Mr. Roger'
He quickly dismissed the thought.
'That's impossible.' he thought to himself.
"Yes, the Hall of Benevolent Medicine!" he declared, seizing the opportunity. "They're nothing but charlatans, preying on the vulnerable for profit! Mr. Rogers, you have to shut them down!"
Felix's face hardened. "Are you certain it's the Hall of Benevolent Medicine that's harming the public?"
Guadalupe, oblivious to the shift in Felix's demeanor, puffed up his chest. "Absolutely! The evidence is irrefutable!"
He was practically giddy with anticipation. Soon, the Hall of Benevolent Medicine would be ruined, and he would be free to expand his own practice, raking in even greater profits.
Felix cursed under his breath. If only he had known Guadalupe's target was the Hall of Benevolent Medicine, he would never have entertained his request. The clinic's founder, Dr. Smith, was a figure even Director Evans treated with deference. On their opening day, numerous high-ranking officials, including the head of the health department, had come to pay their respects. Felix, a mere deputy director, owed his position to the previous deputy's sudden resignation – a resignation he strongly suspected was orchestrated by James himself. Offending Dr. Smith could cost him his job.
Suppressing his mounting panic, Felix scanned the room and spotted James surrounded by disgruntled family members. His heart sank. He hurried over, barking, "What's going on here? Stop this commotion at once!"
The family members, startled by his tone and obvious authority, quickly dispersed and gave James a wide berth.
Felix approached James and extended his hand, a nervous smile plastered on his face. "Dr. Smith," he said, his voice uncharacteristically deferential, "it's an honor to meet you."
The room fell silent. Guadalupe and his cronies stared, mouths agape, as Felix, their supposed ally, practically groveled at James's feet. Guadalupe rubbed his eyes, convinced he was hallucinating. In all the years he'd known Felix, he'd never seen him so…afraid.
Felix was sweating, his eyes darting nervously as James regarded him with a knowing smile. It seemed James already knew about the backroom deal and the manipulated test results.
Fear coiled in Felix's gut. Even without knowing the full extent of James's influence, he knew that anyone who could command the respect of Director Evans and a room full of high-ranking officials was not someone he could afford to cross.
James, for his part, wasn't surprised by Felix's reaction. He'd made sure to leave a lasting impression on opening day, and it was clear that word of the Hall of Benevolent Medicine's powerful connections had spread.
He nodded curtly, acknowledging Felix's greeting. "And you are…?"
"Felix Rogers, Deputy Director of the Lindwood City Health Department," Felix stammered. "I've heard so much about your skills, Dr. Smith. A true miracle worker, they say. It's an honor to meet you."
James's lips twitched into a small smile. He recognized an apology from Felix's words. He'd been prepared to contact Director Evans to expose the corruption that had taken root within the health department. But the presence of Felix saved him lots of trouble.
"Mr. Rogers," he said, his voice deceptively mild, "I was just about to call Director Evans." He held up his phone, letting the implication hang in the air.
Felix paled. "There's no need for that, Dr. Smith," he blurted out, his voice cracking. "I'm sure we can handle this internally."
"That depends, Mr. Rogers," James said, his gaze unwavering. "It depends on your definition of 'handle.'"
Felix swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "Dr. Smith," he said, his voice earnest, "I give you my word, justice will be served."
James's expression turned serious. "Mr. Rogers, I don't believe in anyone being 'above' justice. The law is the law. Anyone who breaks it, who endangers the public, must be held accountable."
Felix felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. James's words were a clear warning, a reminder that he was walking a very thin line.
Guadalupe and his cronies watched the exchange, their faces ashen. Their carefully constructed facade had crumbled, and they were left exposed and vulnerable.
The attending physician, still clutching the falsified test results, trembled, his face draining of color. He wanted nothing more than to disappear, to melt into the floor and escape the suffocating tension that had gripped the room.
Felix turned to him, his expression glacial. "Dr. Sinclair," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. "let me see those test results."
Dr. Sinclair flinched. He knew the game was up. "Mr. Rogers," he stammered, "there seems to be a mistake. These aren't the correct results. I…I must have picked up the wrong file. I'll get the real ones right away."
Felix nodded curtly, his gaze never leaving the terrified physician.
"Guadalupe, what's going on?" Dr. Ingram hissed, his voice tight with panic. "This isn't how it was supposed to be!"
Guadalupe, his face pale and clammy, could only stare at Felix, a desperate plea for help in his eyes. But Felix ignored him, his attention solely focused on James, the man who held his fate in his hands.
Dr. Sinclair scurried back moments later, a new file clutched in his trembling hand. "Here are the correct results, Mr. Rogers," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
"Read them," Felix commanded, his gaze sweeping over the anxious faces of the family members.
Dr. Sinclair took a deep breath and began to read, his voice shaking. "The patient, Silas Prescott, suffered a stroke due to an adverse reaction to the following medications…" He proceeded to list the names of seven different drugs, all prescribed by Western medical clinics.
The family members erupted in fury. They snatched the test results, scanning the page with their eyes, their anger growing with each passing second.
"Are you certain these medications caused my father's condition?" one of the sons demanded, his voice shaking with barely suppressed rage.
Dr. Sinclair, desperate to salvage what little remained of his career and reputation, threw Guadalupe under the proverbial bus. He launched into a detailed explanation, embellishing his words with feigned outrage, expertly fanning the flames of their anger.
"That bastard!" the burly son roared, his face contorted with rage. "He poisoned my father for profit!" He lunged towards Guadalupe, his fists clenched.
Guadalupe, his bravado gone, turned and ran, but another family member quickly apprehended him. Fists flew, and the waiting area descended into chaos.
James watched the scene unfold, his expression impassive. He felt no sympathy for Guadalupe and his cronies. They had abused their positions, jeopardized the health of their patients, and attempted to manipulate the system for their own gain. They deserved whatever punishment awaited them.
The commotion drew the attention of the hospital director, a stern-faced woman who wasted no time in reprimanding Guadalupe and his colleagues. To make matters worse for them, the reporters Guadalupe had called arrived, eager to cover the unfolding drama. They interviewed the family members, capturing their raw grief and anger, and documenting the shocking truth for all to see.
Guadalupe, his face bruised and bloodied, his expensive suit torn to shreds, watched in despair as his world crumbled around him. He had lost everything – his reputation, his livelihood, his freedom. In that moment of utter defeat, his gaze fell on James, and a flicker of desperate hope ignited within him.
He crawled towards James, ignoring the searing pain in his ribs, and clutched at his legs, his voice hoarse with tears. "Dr. Smith, I'm sorry! I was wrong! Please forgive me! I'll do anything!"
He was willing to beg, to grovel, to do whatever it took to salvage something, anything, from the wreckage of his life.
But James felt no pity for him. He looked down at the man who had tried to destroy him, his gaze cold and unforgiving. With a swift movement, he kicked Guadalupe away.