Chapter 163: The Rayne Foundation
The climb uphill is always long and exhausting.
Going downhill, on the other hand, is effortless—you tumble all the way to the bottom.
Over the following days, Eleanor witnessed the true efficiency of a family empire more clearly than ever before.
There were no arguments.
No confrontations.
No public disagreements.
Only a quiet, elegant, and utterly ruthless withdrawal.
One of the acquisition evaluation projects she had been overseeing was suddenly reassigned due to a "temporary adjustment."
Her name remained copied on the emails.
But she understood perfectly well that it was only a courtesy.
At a strategic coordination meeting under the board, she was gently informed:
"The Chairman feels that you've only recently recovered and should focus on getting more rest."
Several resource channels she had direct authority over were merged into other departments under the banner of "process optimization."
Nobody treated her disrespectfully.
Nobody questioned her competence.
Quite the opposite.
Everyone seemed more considerate.
More polite.
More caring.
After all, her father was the Chairman.
The company belonged to her family.
And that was exactly what made it so cruel.
Piece by piece, she was being hollowed out.
Slowly transformed from someone who did things into someone who merely needed looking after.
And there was nothing she could do about it.
Because every reason sounded perfectly reasonable.
You've just recovered.
You need time to adjust.
The family doesn't want you overworking yourself.
When she had been sick, nobody had told her to take care of herself.
Now that she was healthy, suddenly everyone cared deeply about her well-being.
This was their specialty.
No force.
No orders.
Just a gradual separation from the world she once belonged to.
Her father was delivering a message as clearly as possible:
This is what happens when you refuse to obey.
Perhaps you have talent.
Perhaps you have status.
But if you place yourself against the interests of the family, every resource and every position can disappear overnight.
Eleanor suddenly remembered something from childhood.
She had once been close friends with the daughter of one of the family's business partners.
Later, that partner's interests diverged from the Harrington family's.
The relationship quietly ended.
She had been gently informed that continuing contact with that girl was no longer suitable for her future or her security.
She had tried to reach out anyway.
She had genuinely tried.
But somehow, no matter what she did, she could never reach her again.
That was the day she learned an important lesson:
You were allowed to have friends.
As long as those friends remained aligned with the family's interests.
For the first time in her life, Eleanor's schedule contained large empty spaces.
She sat alone in her office, staring at a calendar devoid of meetings and obligations.
For a brief moment, she felt disoriented.
Her life had never been this... free.
In the past, she always knew exactly where her value lay.
She always knew what needed to be done next.
Now she occupied the same office, the same chair, the same position.
Yet there was nothing she needed to do.
And nothing she was allowed to do.
To most people, it might have looked like a vacation.
To her, it felt like weightlessness.
She understood perfectly well that the family wasn't punishing her.
They simply wanted her to understand the cost of refusing their plans.
They were waiting.
Waiting for her to grow tired of drifting.
Waiting for her to return voluntarily and say:
"I was wrong."
Eleanor never did.
She simply watched the process unfold.
One morning, she left the company before noon.
Outside the car window, the city continued moving at its usual relentless pace.
For the first time in years, she realized she had barely given any thought to life beyond her family.
In truth, outside the family, she had almost nothing.
Then she remembered her final appointment at Rayne Clinic.
She had made a promise.
And the doctor had responded with one of his own.
"There may be something I'd like your help with someday."
She had asked what it was.
He had simply shaken his head.
"I haven't figured that out yet."
At the time, the words hadn't seemed particularly meaningful.
Afterward, he never mentioned it again.
But now, suddenly, she realized—
That might be the only direction left to her.
A path completely unrelated to her family.
Eleanor leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes.
Perhaps that was exactly what she needed right now.
Something that wasn't chosen for her.
Something that belonged to no one else's plan.
The car stopped on Seventh Avenue in Brooklyn.
She stood across the street and looked at the clinic for a while.
Then she crossed over.
This time, she wasn't here as a representative of the Harrington family.
She was here as herself.
She had never imagined that a promise made on a whim would one day become the clearest goal in her life.
Eleanor entered Rayne Clinic once more.
This time, there was no appointment.
No advance phone call.
On an ordinary morning, she simply rang the bell like any other patient.
When Helen saw her on the security monitor, she froze for a moment.
"...Eleanor Harrington?"
She opened the door.
Eleanor stepped inside.
Helen's eyes immediately swept over her.
Healthy complexion.
Steady gait.
Normal breathing.
No sign of illness whatsoever.
"Miss Harrington, are you feeling unwell?" Helen asked immediately.
"Has something relapsed? Any new symptoms?"
Eleanor shook her head.
"No. I'm not here as a patient."
That answer clearly surprised her.
Sensing the confusion, Eleanor added:
"I just wanted to speak with the doctor."
After a brief pause, she deliberately softened her tone.
"It's not urgent. Whenever he has time is fine."
The way she said it made it sound as though she had willingly placed herself at the end of the waiting list.
Helen studied her for several seconds.
She had met Eleanor enough times to know she wasn't someone who casually wasted hours of her day.
Yet today felt different.
She looked less like a powerful executive and more like someone taking a walk, searching for a conversation.
Someone trying to give shape to an idea that hadn't fully formed yet.
Helen didn't press further.
"You can wait here for a bit," she finally said.
Eleanor nodded and sat beside the window in the waiting area.
The clinic wasn't particularly busy.
Patients came and went.
Time passed in small fragments.
Just like during her first visit, she didn't touch her phone.
She didn't pick up a magazine.
She simply sat quietly.
But this silence was different from before.
The last time, she had been observing.
Today, she was simply experiencing the passage of time itself.
By noon, the final patient had left.
Helen finished organizing some paperwork and glanced toward the waiting area.
Eleanor was still sitting there.
In almost exactly the same position.
"You can go in now."
A knock sounded at the examination room door.
"Come in," Ethan called from inside.
Eleanor entered.
Ethan was washing his hands.
The moment he looked up and saw her, genuine surprise appeared on his face.
"Miss Harrington? What brings you here?"
His expression immediately shifted.
"Is something wrong? Are you feeling sick?"
Eleanor closed the door and stopped in the middle of the room.
"I'm fine."
Ethan frowned slightly and examined her again.
"Are you sure?"
"Very sure."
They sat down across from one another.
For a few moments, neither spoke.
Finally, Eleanor broke the silence.
"Do you remember something you once said to me?"
Ethan blinked.
"What was that?"
"You said there was something you wanted my help with."
Memory slowly returned to him.
"Oh."
She gave him a small reminder.
"You also said you hadn't figured out what it was yet."
She didn't rush him.
She simply waited.
Ethan rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Several moments passed.
Then he finally spoke.
"I did think about it afterward."
His tone was uncertain, but sincere.
Eleanor listened.
"I want to start a foundation."
He paused briefly, as though confirming the idea one last time.
"The name's already decided."
He smiled.
"The Rayne Foundation."
One of Eleanor's eyebrows rose slightly.
She ignored the name and immediately asked the important question.
"What exactly will it do?"
Ethan answered with complete honesty.
"Truthfully?"
"I haven't fully figured that part out yet."
"The only thing I'm certain about is that I want to help more people."
Eleanor nodded.
Then continued methodically.
"Public foundation or private foundation?"
"Operating foundation or grant-making foundation?"
Ethan stared blankly.
"...There are that many kinds?"
Then he looked at her seriously.
"So which one do you think I should create?"
Eleanor sighed softly.
"Did you only come up with the name?"
"And everything else is still a blank page?"
She narrowed her eyes slightly.
"And I'm fairly sure you thought of that name about thirty seconds ago."
Ethan fell silent.
She's disturbingly accurate.
The two looked at each other for a moment.
The room grew quiet again.
Then Eleanor suddenly asked:
"What time is it?"
Ethan checked his watch.
"Eleven forty."
"Any more patients this morning?"
"No."
She nodded.
"Then let's go have lunch."
Ethan blinked.
"Lunch?"
"We can talk while we eat."
He considered it for a moment.
Then smiled.
"Sounds good."
The restaurant wasn't far from the clinic.
A small place that had only recently opened.
No reservations required.
Not particularly large.
But peaceful.
The tables were clean.
The lighting was warm.
The décor wasn't luxurious, yet every detail seemed designed to make people relax.
For the first time in days, Eleanor felt like she was walking toward something that had been chosen by no one but herself.
Ethan ordered a simple lunch.
Eleanor barely glanced at the menu before ordering exactly the same thing.
While they waited for their food, she spoke first.
"Before I invest any real time into this," she said, "there are a few things I need to clarify."
Ethan nodded.
"Sure."
"First."
She skipped any preamble and went straight to the point.
"You said the foundation would help more people."
She leaned forward slightly.
"Who exactly are these more people? The wealthy? The powerful? People with influence?"
"Or ordinary people?"
Ethan answered almost immediately.
"Everyone. No distinction."
Eleanor followed up at once.
"Can this foundation save everyone?"
"Definitely not."
"Then who gets turned away?"
Ethan considered the question.
"Anyone beyond our ability to help."
After a brief pause, he added:
"But status, influence, or wealth won't be the deciding factors."
Eleanor nodded, though her expression remained thoughtful.
"You still need a selection process."
"What determines that process?"
Ethan fell silent for a moment.
"Honestly, I don't have a concrete standard yet."
He thought for a few seconds before continuing.
"My original intention was simple."
"I want people who are still fighting, people who genuinely want to keep living, to have a chance."
"The number of patients medicine truly cannot save is actually quite small."
"Far more people can be saved."
"They're just blocked by reality."
"Those are the people I want to help."
Eleanor nodded.
"Second question."
She continued without hesitation.
"Will the foundation directly provide medical treatment?"
Her eyes fixed on him.
"What I mean is—will your special ability be directly connected to the foundation?"
Ethan thought for a moment before shaking his head.
"No."
"I don't want the foundation tied directly to my treatments."
Eleanor immediately followed up.
"Then how do you intend to raise money?"
"If it isn't known as an organization that performs miracles, why would wealthy donors fund it?"
Ethan sighed.
"That…"
"I honestly haven't figured out yet."
Eleanor looked at him.
She didn't criticize him.
Nor did she continue pressing the point.
"Third question."
"What happens if the government becomes involved?"
Ethan frowned slightly.
"We cooperate whenever possible."
"This foundation exists to fill a gap in society."
"If we can earn government support, that's probably the best outcome."
She nodded.
"Last question."
This time, she deliberately slowed down.
"Who controls the foundation?"
"Do you make the decisions alone?"
"Is it governed collectively?"
"Or are you simply planning to establish it and hand it over to someone else while serving as a consultant or honorary figurehead?"
Ethan answered immediately.
"I won't hand it over."
"And ultimately, I have to be the one making the final decisions."
He spoke firmly.
"The direction, the boundaries, and the principles all need to come from me."
Then he quickly added:
"But I'll need professionals helping me."
Eleanor lowered her gaze.
For the first time since the conversation began, she stopped asking questions.
Their meals arrived.
The discussion paused while they ate.
After a while, she took a sip of water and spoke again.
"I think I understand now."
"This foundation exists to solve a very specific problem."
"It isn't trying to reform the entire healthcare system."
"It doesn't publicize your abilities."
"It doesn't seek attention."
"It only does one thing."
She looked at him.
"It finds people the system has already given up on—but who still have a chance to improve—and gives them that chance."
Ethan nodded.
"Exactly."
"Why?"
She asked it simply.
Ethan blinked.
"What do you mean?"
"Why do this at all?"
"What do you gain from it?"
"Saving people has value in itself," Ethan replied.
Then he added after a moment:
"And for me... if the world becomes even a little better because of it, I'd be happy."
Eleanor studied him carefully.
"You aren't trying to play God and save the world, are you?"
"Of course not."
Ethan shook his head.
"I'm only doing the part that's within my reach."
The table fell quiet once more.
Ethan finished eating first.
When Eleanor set down her utensils, he finally asked:
"So?"
"Are you going to help me?"
She looked up at him.
Her answer came as naturally as if there were no other possibility.
"What else would I do?"
"I owe you a promise."
"Do I really have another choice?"
"Of course you do," Ethan replied immediately.
The last thing he wanted was for this to become a favor called in as repayment.
After all, he knew almost nothing about running a foundation.
If Eleanor took this on, she'd effectively be carrying the entire project herself.
That hardly seemed fair.
"I don't know anything about this."
"If all of it falls on you, that's a lot of pressure."
He thought for a moment.
"Maybe it would be better to wait a couple of years before we start building it."
"Why wait?"
Eleanor countered instantly.
"Well…"
Ethan hesitated.
"As long as we're moving in the right direction, the timing doesn't seem that important to me."
She stared at him.
"Are you planning to wait for it to form naturally?"
"Or are you expecting to walk down the street one day and have someone suddenly appear and say—"
'Hello, I'd like to donate an entire foundation to you.'
Ethan opened his mouth.
Then closed it again.
For once, he genuinely had no response.
Clearly, Eleanor had thought about this far more than he had.
"I'll build the framework."
She spoke with absolute certainty.
"The board structure."
"Compliance systems."
"Funding channels."
"Audit interfaces."
Ethan blinked.
"You've already started planning this?"
Eleanor nodded.
"Yes."
"I've already begun thinking about how to turn it into a very boring foundation."
"A boring foundation?"
Ethan looked confused.
She nodded.
"Boring means safe."
"It means a lot of people won't like it."
"But they also won't be able to get rid of it."
After a brief pause, she added:
"And once this is finished, my debt to you will be completely repaid."
Ethan nodded.
"Of course."
For a moment, neither of them noticed the irony.
One thought she was repaying a promise.
The other thought he was asking for help.
Yet somewhere between those two perspectives, something entirely new had quietly begun to take shape.