You Are A Liar

The exact moment William spotted Julian casually strolling toward the towering entrance of The Grand Sterling, the heavy, suffocating anxiety crushing his chest instantly evaporated. He hurried forward, his pale face washing with palpable, overwhelming relief.

Reaching out, the powerful CEO firmly grasped Julian's hand, practically shaking it with the fervent desperation of a drowning man. "You finally arrived, young man," William breathed out, exclaiming his profound gratitude. "This way, please. Quickly."

Acutely aware of the older man's deep-seated anxiety regarding his fragile mortality, Julian offered a gentle, reassuring smile. He quietly reminded the panicked CEO, "I am a man who always keeps his promises, Mr. Sterling. I said I would come."

However, the wholesome reunion was immediately shattered. Jolene stepped forward, her expensive heels clicking aggressively against the pavement. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, glaring at Julian with undisguised, bitter disdain. It deeply frustrated her to see her powerful father—a man of immense status and wealth—displaying such a surprisingly servile attitude toward this raggedy ex-convict.

"What is wrong with you?" she snapped sharply, her voice dripping with venom. Terrified by her father's rapidly deteriorating health, she directed all her fear into pure hostility. "My father is a man of immense status, and you forced him to wait anxiously at this door for an entire half hour! Look at his skin! Do you even possess a fundamental understanding of how to heal someone? Where are your medical credentials?"

Convinced in her core that Julian was nothing but an opportunistic scammer who had gotten incredibly lucky on the streets, Jolene stubbornly refused to offer any form of apology. She had observed her father's rapidly fading skin color and immediately drew her own grim conclusions.

"Jolene! That is enough!" William demanded sternly, his face flushing red with sudden fury. "Show some basic respect to my savior immediately!"

"No!" she shot back, crossing her arms even tighter. She turned her face away in blatant defiance. "I won't apologize to a street con artist!"

William's furious, red-faced attempt to strictly scold his rebellious daughter dissolved violently. His mouth opened to shout, but what came out was a terrifyingly violent fit of coughing. His chest heaved uncontrollably, his failing lungs spasming in violent rebellion. The sickening episode culminated with him doubling over and painfully spitting up a thick mouthful of terrifyingly black blood. It splattered against the immaculate pavement, a dark, viscous stain that sent a shockwave of dread through the air.

"Dad!" Jolene screamed, absolute horror hijacking her features.

Julian's brow furrowed deeply as his sharp eyes locked onto the dark fluid. His medical senses immediately deduced the grim reality: the hidden, internal injury was far more catastrophic than he had initially anticipated back on the road. Looking at the sheer viscosity of the blackened blood, Julian mentally noted that it was an absolute miracle William had managed to survive this long under such immense internal pressure.

Wasting no time, Julian barked a sharp order. "Quickly, carry him into a private room! Now!"

But the deeply panicked Jolene hesitated. She remained frozen, entirely paralyzed by her pure, unadulterated distrust of the young man standing before her. She wasn't about to let this uncredentialed stranger drag her dying father anywhere.

Seeing her stubborn inaction, Julian completely lost his patience. His gaze turned frigid. He harshly snapped at her, his voice cracking like a whip. "Do you actually want to stand there and watch your father die on the street?"

Jolted brutally into action by the morbid reality check, Jolene gasped. She quickly wrapped her arms around her father, supporting his sagging weight. Together, they helped the barely conscious CEO stumble through the grand entrance and directly into an opulent private room located on the ground floor.

Once inside, they laid him back on a plush leather sofa. Julian immediately stepped up and grabbed William's wrist to check his erratic pulse. As his fingers pressed against the rapidly cooling skin, his expression turned incredibly grim. He could practically feel the chaotic flow of internal energy ripping through William's failing organs.

Just before Julian could proceed with any form of immediate treatment, the heavy oak door of the private room burst open with a loud slam.

A bespectacled middle-aged man donning a pristine white medical coat aggressively barged into the room, a heavy medical bag gripped tightly in his hand.

Jolene’s tear-filled eyes immediately lit up with a frantic sliver of hope. "Dr. Westcott!" she cried out desperately. "Quick! Take a look at my dad, he just vomited black blood!"

Without missing a beat, she immediately and forcefully shoved Julian aside. She completely disregarded the young man, violently putting herself between him and her father to present her fading, blood-stained dad to the medical professional she actually trusted.

Dr. Jonathan Westcott swiftly dropped his bag onto the nearest glass table and firmly took William's wrist, feeling the chaotic pulse for himself. His previously confident frown quickly deepened into a mask of pure medical concern. The room fell into a suffocating silence as he analyzed the failing rhythm.

Turning to Jolene, Jonathan gravely explained his diagnosis. "Ms. Sterling... your father's deeply ingrained, chronic lung ailment has been dangerously exacerbated." He adjusted his spectacles, his voice heavy with professional authority. "Someone—an absolute amateur—has forcefully kicked the patient's fragile immune system into total overdrive. They offered a deceptive, short-term adrenaline fix that gave the illusion of healing, but ultimately caused his precarious state to rapidly crash and severely worsen."

Hearing this expert confirmation of her absolute worst fears, Jolene turned slowly. She directed a murderous, tear-filled scowl directly at Julian. Her grief and terror twisted into blinding rage.

"You absolute con man!" she roared, viciously pointing a trembling finger right at Julian's face. "If anything happens to my beloved father, I swear to God I will ensure you never survive the consequences!" She entirely blamed Julian's earlier roadside intervention for the black blood now staining her father's chin, convinced he had pushed him to the brink of death.

Refusing to tolerate her baseless, hysterical accusations for a second longer, Julian let out a cold, highly condescending snort.

"Have I cheated a single penny out of you yet?" Julian demanded, his voice slicing through her hysterical threats like a razor. He crossed his arms, his posture radiating absolute authority. "If not for my swift intervention on the street, your father would have already become a cold corpse. I can't believe how utterly ridiculous and ungrateful you are acting."

Distraught and entirely ignoring Julian's ironclad defense, Jolene dropped to her knees right beside the leather sofa. "Dr. Westcott, I beg of you," she pleaded desperately, tears freely spilling down her cheeks. "Do whatever it takes to save him. Please!"

Working with practiced efficiency, Jonathan quickly opened his medical bag. He retrieved a potent, pitch-black medicinal pill and carefully fed it into William's mouth to immediately stabilize his chaotic breathing. Next, he unrolled a sterile cloth revealing a set of long, sterile silver needles. With focused precision, Jonathan immediately began inserting the needles into the CEO's major acupoints along his chest and arms.

Watching the doctor's traditional technique unfold, Julian shook his head slightly. His eyes narrowed, and he issued a stark, chilling warning that cut through the tense silence.

"Performing this specific acupuncture technique will not save the dying man," Julian calmly stated, his tone devoid of any bluff. "It will violently force the stagnant blood directly into his heart, ultimately causing fatal harm."

Hearing the unsolicited critique, Jonathan paused, merely knitting his brows in profound offense. He slowly turned his head to look at the young man standing by the wall.

Given that mastering traditional acupuncture required at least a grueling decade of intense, dedicated study and practical application, the established, highly respected doctor absolutely scoffed at the very idea. The sheer arrogance radiating from Jonathan was palpable. He looked Julian up and down, taking in the cheap clothes and the youthful face. The idea that a mere twenty-year-old boy could possibly comprehend this incredibly complex, life-and-death medical practice was nothing short of a deeply insulting joke.