The call came at 5:13 a.m.
Dr. Lim was awake already. She had stopped sleeping well the moment Elias Murphy walked into her hospital.
"Yes," she said into the phone, voice clipped.
She listened.
Her expression hardened.
"I understand," she replied. "But this is still a hospital."
The line went dead.
She stared at the phone for a long moment before standing and heading toward administration.
By the time the sun rose, three federal agents were already inside San Jose St. Bonaventure Hospital.
They didn't wear uniforms.
They didn't raise their voices.
They didn't need to.
Elias noticed them immediately.
Not because of badges or posture—but because their heart rates never changed.
They stood near the elevators, eyes scanning, movements economical, presence deliberate.
"They're watching you," Shaun said quietly, standing beside him.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because they don't understand me," Elias replied. "And they're uncomfortable with that."
Shaun nodded. "That is consistent with human behavior."
The meeting was held behind closed doors.
Dr. Lim. Glassman. Two hospital lawyers.
And the agents.
"We're not here to interfere," the senior agent said smoothly. "We just want to ask some questions."
"About a patient?" Lim asked.
"About a capability."
Elias sat calmly, hands resting loosely on the table.
"You performed a procedure on a man exposed to a classified biological agent," the agent continued. "One that had a one-hundred percent mortality rate."
"Yes."
"You cured him."
"Yes."
The agent leaned forward. "How?"
Elias met his gaze evenly. "By treating the disease."
The agent smiled thinly. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're entitled to."
Silence stretched.
"You understand," the agent said carefully, "that abilities like yours have national security implications."
Elias tilted his head slightly. "Illness does not respect borders."
"That wasn't the question."
"No," Elias agreed. "It was a threat."
Glassman's eyes flicked between them.
The agent exhaled. "We'd like to discuss a consultancy arrangement."
Elias shook his head. "No."
Just that.
One word.
The room stilled.
"You haven't heard the terms," the agent said.
"I don't need to," Elias replied calmly. "I am not a weapon. I am a doctor."
"You don't get to decide that alone."
Elias' golden eyes sharpened—not with anger, but with finality.
"Yes," he said. "I do."
Outside the room, the hospital waited.
Nurses whispered.
Residents speculated.
By the time the doors opened, everyone knew something had shifted.
The agents left without shaking hands.
That alone was answer enough.
The pressure didn't stop.
It adapted.
That afternoon, a patient refused treatment.
Not because they didn't trust Elias.
But because they were afraid of him.
"I don't want him near me," the man said from his bed, voice shaking. "They say he's not normal."
Elias stood calmly at the foot of the bed.
"You're afraid," he said gently.
"Yes."
"I can still help you."
The man swallowed. "What if there's a cost?"
"There isn't."
"How do you know?"
Elias met his eyes. "Because I've cured thousands."
The man hesitated. Then nodded.
Consent given.
Fear dissolved.
Healing followed.
That evening, a legal notice arrived.
Not from the government.
From a private firm.
Lim read it twice, then a third time.
"This is bad," she muttered.
Glassman looked over her shoulder. "What is it?"
"A preemptive injunction," Lim said. "Someone is trying to classify Elias' work as unregulated experimental medicine."
"That won't hold," Glassman snapped.
"No," Lim said slowly. "But whoever filed it is very good."
Across the city, in a glass-walled office overlooking San Francisco Bay, a woman stood with her arms folded, blue eyes fixed on a digital display.
Legal documents scrolled past effortlessly.
She absorbed them all.
Her reflection in the glass showed calm confidence, immaculate posture, and a presence that commanded the room without effort. At six feet one, she stood tall even among the city's towering skyline.
Her name sat at the top of the document.
Celeste Laurent-WuSenior Partner
Age: 23
Perfect Record: 0 Losses
"Attempting to restrain a physician with flawless outcomes," she said calmly. "That's not just unethical."
Her assistant hesitated. "Do we intervene?"
Celeste considered the name on the screen.
Elias Murphy.
Golden-haired. Eighteen. Impossible.
"Yes," she said at last. "But not yet."
She smiled faintly.
"I want to see how they try to stop him."
Back at the hospital, Elias stood alone in the surgical wing, the building quiet at last.
Shaun approached hesitantly.
"They are attempting to limit you," Shaun said.
"Yes."
"Does that concern you?"
Elias looked at his brother.
"No," he said. "It clarifies things."
"Clarifies what?"
"Who stands between patients and care."
Shaun nodded slowly.
"That is… unacceptable."
Elias smiled.
"I agree."
Outside, the city hummed—unaware that law, medicine, and power were quietly rearranging themselves around a single constant.
And somewhere beyond hospital walls, a woman who had never lost a case was beginning to pay very close attention.
End of Chapter 5