Chapter 4
“Did you do something wrong, Dr. Park?”
“I thought I didn’t… but now I feel like maybe I did.”
“What? Which part?”
“I… don’t know what exactly.”
Suji seemed flustered, rambling without any clear logic.
“Professor Crowell… emphasized confidentiality, so maybe I shouldn’t have said that much to the police. And… I didn’t know the article would come out so quickly…”
“I was the one who called the police. You know I already told them everything. And you did the right thing by explaining the patient’s condition. It’s a criminal case. The sooner they catch the culprit, the better. You were the first one who saw the patient, remember?”
“Well… yes, but I was so surprised, sir.”
Suji lifted her head and looked up at Lucas. Her flushed face and clear eyes seemed on the verge of spilling tears.
She took Lucas’s left hand and guided it to her left chest. Just below her collarbone, his palm pressed against her skin through the fabric.
“My heart rate must be at least 140 bpm right now, right?”
Thump, thump, thump.
Lucas could feel her heartbeat clearly beneath his palm. Startled, he cleared his throat and pulled his hand away.
“Why are you so intimidated when you didn’t do anything wrong?”
“Well… he’s the professor. I did tell him what I thought, but Professor Crowell got so angry. And Mr. Harrington also looked really upset.”
“Like I said—you didn’t do anything wrong. Just because they’re mad doesn’t mean you need to be scared.”
“Okay…”
Lucas looked at Suji’s face as she slowly nodded. Her features were small and delicate, balanced and pretty. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen her face this close before.
Even with almost no makeup, her skin was clear, her brows were thick, her nose sharply defined, and her lips were unusually red. His eyes lingered on her full red lips for a moment before he quickly turned away.
“Um… will I be punished for this?”
Lucas snapped back to reality and frowned.
“Why would you?”
“Because that’s what Professor Crowell said.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I won’t let that happen.”
“Dr. Harrington…”
Suji grabbed his hand tightly, eyes sparkling with admiration.
“Thank you so much. It feels really reassuring to have you here.”
Lucas stared at his hand in hers. Suji gasped softly and quickly let go.
“I’m sorry. I got too worked up.”
She bowed her head again as if she had committed a serious crime. Feeling an odd frustration swell inside him, Lucas walked out through the emergency exit.
Lucas held a glass filled with whiskey. He usually didn’t drink after work, but tonight his head was too crowded—he needed it.
Standing in front of his floor-to-ceiling windows, he drained the glass. His hair was still damp from the shower, and a large towel hung around his waist.
His penthouse on Park Avenue overlooked downtown Boston, with a perfect view of the Charles River and Cambridge. It was quiet—almost timeless. That, he thought, was the best part of living here.
When he stood like this, looking down at the city, his mind seemed to calm.
Bzzz.
His phone vibrated. The name “Charles Harrington” lit up the screen.
“Yes, Grandpa.”
Lucas kept his gaze fixed on the city lights.
[So, is the patient recovering well?]
“Yes. She’s in the ICU but stabilizing. Her life isn’t in danger.”
[That’s good to hear.]
“I saw the article. You were the first to publish.”
[Accuracy matters, but in news, speed is life.]
Charles Harrington, Lucas’s grandfather, was the founder of Harrington Media. A former journalist, he had built his media company from scratch. Now the company owned cable news, newspapers, digital journals, film studios, and documentary productions.
It started as a small Boston outlet, but now it was one of the top three media groups in America.
[So what do you think? I’m worried Jonathan might have gotten into some kind of trouble.]
“You mean, you’re afraid my father might be the perpetrator?”
[You never know with people.]
“I don’t think so. He cares too much about his future. He has enough self-control not to do something that reckless. Well… except for the part where he changes women like meal courses.”
[True, Jonathan may be a scoundrel, but he’s not the type to go around waving guns. Who do you think the culprit is?]
“How would I know? That’s for the police to figure out. My job is to treat the patient.”
Charles laughed heartily through the phone.
[Why don’t you look into it yourself? Can’t trust the police these days.]
“I’m busy, Grandpa. Don’t expect too much.”
Charles had graduated from Harvard Law and chosen to work for a small newspaper. Amid political corruption and scandal, he insisted on pursuing truth above all.
He didn’t cater to anyone in power. He was so fearless that the editor-in-chief once begged him to tone it down for his own safety.
Even 40 years after founding Harrington Media, Charles still held the same principles.
[If my son ever disgraces Harrington Media, I swear I’ll die before handing that company to him.]
He had always wanted Lucas—not Jonathan—to inherit the company. But Lucas had declined every time. Naturally, Charles had turned to Jonathan as the only alternative. After all, he was his son.
“Yes, truth always comes out eventually.”
[By the way, was it you who spoke with the press?]
“I told them most of it. The intern doctor spoke too.”
[I see. The intern must have been really shaken.]
“Probably.”
After the call, Lucas finished his now watered-down whiskey in one gulp.
Jonathan Harrington, head of Harrington Legal Group, was nearly untouchable. He handled giant corporate mergers and high-profile scandals personally, earning the nickname “the attorney who always wins.”
He had a grand dream—becoming the President of the United States. He had no political career yet, and being in his 50s made it a distant goal, but he intended to reach it within 20 years.
He actively sought media exposure, making him a well-known figure in America.
“With such a big dream, how can he fail at managing his private life…”
Angela Chan, the gunshot victim, was Jonathan’s personal secretary at Harrington Legal Group. She was also his mistress. Jonathan had a terrible habit: he slept with his secretaries.
When he fired Claire Dunham, who had worked for him for years, and hired the young Angela Chan, Lucas immediately knew something dirty would happen. And just as he expected, they were already too close even outside work.
Night had fully settled over Boston, the city lights blending beautifully.
A faint reflection appeared in the glass—someone’s face.
“‘My heart rate must be at least 140 bpm right now, right?’”
