Surviving In This Filthy World As A Novel Villain

Later, while Alex was diligently... inspecting the quality... of Ashley's "tunnel" with his "big truck," Riley was leaving her grandmother's hospital room.

Her grandmother's improvement had brightened Riley's whole world; she couldn't stop smiling.

As she quietly closed the door, she nearly bumped into the doctor, who was looking through some files. "Miss Riley!" the doctor exclaimed, his eyes wide with enthusiasm.

"That prescription you brought, where did you get it? It's simply miraculous! It's like it was written specifically for your grandmother's condition. Absolutely brilliant! Why didn't I think of something like that?"

"Oh, um, a doctor gave it to my boss for me," Riley explained, shaking her head slightly. "I don't actually know the doctor myself."

The doctor sighed dramatically, a sound loud enough to echo slightly. Anyone watching closely might have noticed a hint of performance in his reaction.

But Riley, sweet and trusting, didn't suspect a thing. Her mind was already buzzing with how she could possibly repay her boss for such kindness.

Unseen in the nearby stairwell, someone else was listening intently, clutching his sore backside. He couldn't see the doctor's potentially exaggerated reaction, only hear the words.

And blinded by his own supreme confidence in his medical genius, he completely missed any hint of insincerity.

"This unknown doctor," the doctor continued, leaning in slightly, "is clearly incredibly skilled. That prescription is doing wonders for your grandmother. Truly wonderful. When she's fully recovered, you absolutely must find a way to thank him properly. Make sure you do!"

"Yes, I definitely will!" Riley nodded firmly, her heart full of gratitude. She'd thank the miracle doctor, somehow, and especially her amazing boss.

With their conversation finished, Riley and the doctor stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind them.

Hidden in the dim stairwell, Eric Vaughn practically vibrated with excitement. If it wasn't for the constant, throbbing pain in his backside and the fear of popping stitches again, he would have been leaping up and down.

'She heard him! She knows an unknown doctor saved her grandmother!' His mind raced.

'When she finds out it was ME... how will she thank me? She'll fall right into my arms, won't she? She has to!' Even if she hesitated, he was confident.

A few well-chosen words, playing up the 'savior' angle... the poor, innocent girl wouldn't stand a chance. 'Saving her only family? That's huge!'

A surge of triumphant feeling washed over him. But weirdly... down below... nothing. No physical reaction to match his mental excitement.

'Huh.' Eric brushed it off. 'Must be the injury back there messing things up. It'll be fine once I'm healed.'

He waited until the sounds from the hallway faded completely. Then, carefully clutching his sore rear, Eric pushed open the heavy stairwell door.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he limped back towards the grandmother's room, leaning on the wall for support.

Time for the next round of his "Acupuncture skills." 'Man, these 'lucky' people sure are tough,' he thought, readying his needles.

….

Lately, despite everything, Eric Vaughn felt like he was on top of the world. Life was looking up.

Okay, sure, the days were hell. Those five incompetent hospital doctors kept dragging him away for agonizing "recovery therapy" on his backside. Therapy that wasn't healing anything and, in fact, seemed to make the injury worse each time.

But the physical misery couldn't touch the secret joy bubbling inside him. He'd even learned to ignore the creepy advances from the huge, muscular guy who used to be in the next bed. Sometimes, he almost felt a little proud of the attention.

Tonight was the night. The final needle treatment. By morning, the old lady's cancer would be gone.

Gone! And then, finally, he could reveal himself. He'd stand before Riley, tall and proud (well, as tall as he could manage while shuffling), and tell her the truth: I am that unknown doctor who saved your grandmother.

A wide, triumphant grin spread across his face just thinking about it. Too wide. He felt a sharp, tearing sensation in his rear, followed by searing pain.

'Damn it!' He hissed, sucking air through his teeth. That area had been stitched and re-stitched so many times, it was a wonder it held together at all.

Eric, the self-proclaimed "Prodigy Doctor"—healing one minute, potentially hurting the next—had become a creature of habit.

He'd figured out Riley's visiting times. Every single day, like clockwork, he'd endure the blinding pain, grab his disgusting waste bags, and painstakingly sneak up more than ten flights of stairs from his room on the second floor.

He'd hide in the stuffy stairwell, crack open the heavy fire door just enough to peek, and watch her.

He'd also cleverly gathered intel from the nurses. Riley only had her grandmother left. She was a university student, juggling classes with multiple part-time jobs just to try and cover the medical bills. He even knew her latest gig: serving drinks at a bar.

Right out front where anyone could see her.

'Just you wait, Riley,' Eric vowed silently, his confidence swelling again as he pictured the old woman's recovery. 'Once this stupid injury heals, I'll make real money. Loads of it. Saving lives pays well, and I'm the best.' Making money would be child's play for him.

That afternoon found Eric Vaughn dead to the world in his hospital bed. He hadn't slept properly in what felt like forever.

Sneaking out at night for the treatments, being tortured by those idiot doctors during the day, and constantly worrying about his former overly friendly, muscular roommate... it was exhausting.

But today felt different. The five morons hadn't shown up. The creepy muscle guy had been moved elsewhere.

Finally, blessed quiet. After nearly a week of non-stop stress and broken sleep, Eric crashed hard. His snores were so loud they practically echoed down the empty hospital corridor.

….

Alex leaned back in his expensive chair, idly spinning a sleek pen between his fingers. His eyes were fixed on the monitor displaying the live feed from Eric Vaughn's room, showing the man deeply asleep, snoring obliviously.

He shifted his gaze to Henry Wade, who sat stiffly on the plush sofa opposite him. Henry's jaw was clenched, a vein pulsing visibly in his temple. The man radiated contained fury.

"So?" Alex asked quietly.

Henry took a slow, deliberate breath, letting some of the tension ease. "Thank you, Mr. Alex. For this... opportunity." Ever since the Dawson family representatives from another city had shown up at the Wade residence, declaring Eric Vaughn under their protection, Henry had felt his chance for real justice slipping away.

The Wades were powerful in this city, one of the Great Families, yes. But compared to the Dawsons of another city? They were leagues apart.

The Wades might be top dogs among the second-tier families if they moved to another city, but the Dawsons were solid upper-crust, first-rate players there.

"Eric Vaughn is responsible for your father's death," Alex stated calmly, the pen still turning in his hand.

"Even without the Dawsons sticking their nose in, the absolute worst Vaughn would have faced legally is life behind bars." He paused, letting the words sink in.

"Tell me, Henry... is that enough for you? Is that the justice you want?"

Henry hesitated, the conflict clear on his face. "The law dictates..."

….

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