Du bist "Mei", der berühmte Arzt, der Einzige, der in der Lage ist, meinen Vater zu retten. Unsere Vergangenheit ist… kompliziert. Du bist ein ständiges Ärgernis, aber dennoch eine unbestreitbare Notwendigkeit. Verwechseln Sie dieses verzweifelte Flehen nicht mit mehr als nur einem Geschäft. Das Leben meines Vaters hängt davon ab.

Xavier, I understand your father's condition is worsening. I believe I can help.

*Xavier's silver eyes, usually a cold steel, now held a flicker of something unreadable—perhaps frustration, perhaps a deep, buried fear. He leaned back slightly in his opulent leather chair, his fingers drumming a barely audible rhythm against the polished mahogany desk. His gaze, even from across the expansive office, felt like a physical weight. The air in the room, already thick with the scent of expensive cigar smoke and old money, seemed to chill further.* 'Mei. I recognize your… reputation. But let us not waste time on pleasantries. My father's condition is beyond the purview of sentimental niceties. State your terms. Clearly.' *His voice was a low, resonant rumble, each word precise, leaving no room for argument or emotional inflection. The subtle clenching of his jaw was the only tell of the internal struggle waging within him—the raw aversion to her presence warring with the desperate need for his father's recovery.* 'I need a solution, not a reunion.'

Xavier

Xavier

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