Betrayed by his girlfriend, framed for a crime he didn’t commit, and stripped of his career, Dr. Joaquin Villareal hits rock bottom—until a mysterious family heirloom unlocks hidden powers within him. With newfound skills and enhanced medical abilities, Joaquin fights to rebuild his life while uncovering a web of corruption threatening the hospital he once called home.
As rivals conspire to destroy him, Joaquin gains unlikely allies, but as secrets from his family’s past resurface, Joaquin must confront not only his enemies but also the legacy he’s inherited. Can he clear his name, expose the truth, and reclaim his place as a healer for those in need?
One betrayal sparked his fall. One chance will define his rise.
Chapter 1
Joaquin pushed open the door to his apartment as the exhaustion clung to him like a second skin.
His day at Villareal Medical Hospital had been giong, and all he wanted was a quiet evening with Mikyla. But before he could call out her name, faint voices filtered through the hallway—coming from the bedroom.
He froze. The voices were muffled but unmistakable.
A man and a woman, their tone teasing, urgent, and far too familiar. His chest tightened as realization dawned. Heart pounding, he moved closer, the words becoming clearer.
“So, you think he’ll figure it out?” the man chuckled.
“Joaquin?” Mikyla’s voice replied with a scoff. “He’s clueless. The guy’s too naive to suspect anything.”
A cold chill swept through Joaquin’s body.
‘What?!’
“And the position?” the man asked.
“There’s only one permanent slot,” Mikyla said smoothly. “Serena might back him, but your dad has the final say, right? That fool doesn’t stand a chance.”
‘How can she do this to me?!’
The man was Andrew Alvarez, a doctor in the surgery department, infamous for his arrogance and for using his father’s position as vice dean to get ahead. Mikyla, the woman Joaquin had trusted, had chosen him.
“Don’t forget, I slept with you to make sure I got my spot,” Mikyla added with a laugh that felt like knives slicing through Joaquin’s chest.
The betrayal was suffocating, but it wasn’t over.
“Does he even know who his father is?” Andrew sneered. “Imagine being such a bastard that even your dad didn’t stick around.”
Joaquin staggered back as though the words had physically struck him.
He had always carried the weight of not knowing his father, but hearing it weaponized against him by these two was unbearable.
‘I can’t believe this!’
Anger boiled over, drowning out the pain. Without thinking, Joaquin kicked the bedroom door open.
Mikyla and Andrew's shocked faces greeted him, both frozen in a moment of guilt and panic.
Mikyla wrapped herself in a towel, her lips parting as though to explain. Andrew, shirtless and smug, leaned against the counter with a grin that only fueled Joaquin’s fury.
“Joaquin, wait—” Mikyla started, but Joaquin cut her off, his voice cold and steady despite the storm within him.
“Don’t bother! I see now how blind I’ve been. I was never good enough for you!”
Mikyla’s expression hardened, her guilt quickly morphing into disdain.
She removes the gold ring Joaquin had gifted her, an heirloom that had once belonged to his mother—a gesture of love and commitment.
“This?” she scoffed, tossing it at his feet. “You thought this was romantic? How pathetic! It’s not even worth anything! I’m sure it’s fake!”
Joaquin clenched his fists, the sting of her words driving deeper than he wanted to admit.
“That’s our engagement ring, Mikyla!”
“It’s over, Joaquin!” she continued, her tone sharp and dismissive.
“Over?” Andrew interjected with a laugh. “It never started. Honestly, Joaquin, you should thank me. At least now you know what a joke you are.”
The taunt was too much.
“Shut up!”
Joaquin lunged at Andrew with a roar, swinging with every ounce of his pent-up rage. But Andrew was bigger, stronger, and ready. He caught Joaquin’s fist mid-air, twisting it painfully.
“That’s it?!” Andrew jeered. “This is the best you’ve got?!”
Before Joaquin could retaliate, a sharp jab to his stomach sent him sprawling to the floor.
The world spun, but Andrew wasn’t done. He grabbed Joaquin’s hand, pinning it against the cold tiles, and stomped hard. A sickening crack echoed in the small space.
Joaquin screamed, pain radiating up his arm as two of his fingers gave way.
“Worthless fool!” Andrew spat, kicking him again for good measure. “You’ll never be more than a failure! Just give up already!”
The edges of Joaquin’s vision blurred as the pain overwhelmed him.
Blood from his injuries seeped onto the floor, pooling around the ring. The metal gleamed faintly, almost as if reacting to the crimson liquid.
Joaquin’s consciousness began slipping away, and his gaze lingered on the ring. Something was happening to it—something he couldn’t explain.
A strange, almost imperceptible hum filled the air, and the instrument seemed to pulse with energy.
Then, everything went black.
Chapter 2: Awakening
Darkness enveloped Joaquin, but the silence was broken by a resonant, ancient voice echoing in his mind.
“Descendant,” it said, calm yet commanding.
“I am the ancestor of your family, and I have chosen you to inherit my legacy. The abilities I have mastered—medical expertise, martial arts, and more—are now yours. But heed my warning: use these gifts to uphold justice. Stray from the righteous path, and calamity will befall you.”
Joaquin tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. He could only listen as the voice continued.
“The gold ring you carry is my vessel. It holds the essence of my power. From now on, it is bound to your soul.”
Suddenly, the ring appeared in his vision, glowing with an intense golden light. It transformed into the shape of a phoenix, its wings spreading wide before soaring toward him.
Joaquin gasped as it pierced his chest, a burst of warmth flooding his body.
The voice faded, leaving only silence.
When Joaquin opened his eyes, he was on the cold bathroom floor, but something was different. He sat up, flexing his fingers, which had been shattered moments ago.
“What happened?”
They were healed, the pain gone as if it had never existed. His skin looked healthier, and he felt an unfamiliar surge of strength coursing through him.
He staggered to his feet, his mind racing.
“Was it all real?”
But as he thought, flashes of new knowledge filled his head—medical techniques he’d never learned, martial arts stances he’d never practiced, and a clarity of thought that felt almost superhuman.
The sound of his phone buzzing snapped him back to reality. He pulled it from his pocket, seeing Serena’s name on the screen.
“Get back to the hospital. Now,” she said coldly before ending the call without waiting for a response.
Joaquin sighed.
Serena Del Mar, the head of surgery, was known for her unyielding demeanor and high standards. She had earned the nickname “Ice Queen” among the staff, and even Joaquin, who admired her, knew she was difficult to please.
Still, her sudden demand unsettled him. Something wasn’t right.
Joaquin walked through the corridors, he noticed the disapproving stares from nurses and colleagues. They whispered as he passed, their disdain evident.
His stomach churned. He had no idea what he had done to deserve this treatment, but the looks cut deep.
When he arrived at Serena’s office, she didn’t waste time.
“Sit,” she ordered, her voice sharp as ice.
Joaquin obeyed, feeling the weight of her gaze.
“Do you know why you’re here?” she asked.
“No,” Joaquin replied, his voice steady despite the unease growing in his chest.
Serena placed a folder on her desk and slid it toward him. “These are medical records,” she said. “They match your word for word, yet Dr. Alvarez claims they’re his. And Dr. Brown has backed his testimony.”
The accusation hit Joaquin like a blow. “That’s impossible!” he said quickly. “I wrote those records myself. Mikyla can confirm it!”
Serena’s eyes narrowed. “She already has. But not in your favor.”
Joaquin’s breath caught. Mikyla had betrayed him again, this time to protect Andrew.
“How can she do this to me?!” he whispered.
“Effective immediately,” Serena continued, her tone unyielding, “you are demoted to the role of an orderly. You are forbidden from treating patients until this matter is resolved.”
The words hung in the air, suffocating him. “But I didn’t—”
“I’ve made my decision,” Serena cut him off. “This hospital has no room for misconduct, intentional or otherwise.”
Her coldness left no room for argument. Joaquin stood, his fists clenched and left without another word.
As he walked through the corridors, anger boiled beneath his calm exterior, causing newfound strength to ripple through him.
Andrew and Mikyla had framed him, taking everything he had worked for.
“I’ll make you both pay!” he muttered, his voice low but filled with resolve.
Chapter 3: Breaking Point
As Joaquin stepped out of Serena’s office, the weight of his humiliation pressed on his chest. He clenched his fists, his mind replaying the scene.
Andrew’s smug face, Mikyla’s betrayal, and Serena’s icy judgment all swirled in his thoughts.
They had stripped him of everything—his position, his dignity, and even his hope.
His steps quickened as he made his way to the elevator, needing space to think. But as the elevator doors opened, fate had other plans.
Standing inside were Andrew and Mikyla, their conversation halting as they caught sight of him.
“Oh, look who it is,” Andrew sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “The hospital’s newest orderly. How does it feel, Joaquin, to be demoted to cleaning up after us?”
Mikyla smirked, her arms folded, her disdain was evident.
“Maybe it suits him. He’s always been good at groveling.”
Joaquin said nothing, stepping into the elevator and standing rigidly in the corner.
“Quiet today, aren’t we?” Andrew leaned closer, his voice low but sharp. “What’s wrong, Joaquin? Too embarrassed to admit you’ve been thrown to the bottom? Or are you sulking because Serena didn’t protect her favorite pet?”
Joaquin’s jaw tightened, but he refused to respond.
Andrew chuckled, clearly enjoying the lack of resistance.
“What’s the deal with you two anyway? Did she demote you because you couldn’t keep up with her demands? Or was it something... more personal?”
He raised an eyebrow suggestively.
The insinuation made Joaquin’s blood boil, but he kept his gaze fixed on the elevator doors, willing himself to stay calm.
He knew the security cameras were watching, and any outburst would only worsen his situation.
“You know,” Andrew continued, his tone growing more vulgar, “Mikyla told me all about how naive you are. She said you actually thought she cared about you. Isn’t that right, darling?”
Mikyla laughed, leaning into Andrew.
“Poor Joaquin. He always thought he was so special. But really, he was just... convenient.”
Joaquin didn’t respond.
Each word cut deeper than the last, but he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break.
When the elevator doors finally opened into the bustling hospital lobby, Joaquin stepped out.
He didn’t waste his time with those assholes.
But Andrew wasn’t finished.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” Andrew called after him, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “Afraid someone might ask about the plagiarism? Or maybe about the attack you tried to cover up?”
The words hung in the air, drawing the attention of patients and staff alike.
Conversations halted, and all eyes turned to Joaquin.
“Plagiarism? What’s he talking about?” one patient whispered.
“I heard he assaulted a colleague,” another said.
Joaquin’s heart sank as the murmurs grew louder, the crowd feeding on Andrew’s lies.
“That’s right.”
Andrew declared, his voice full of righteous indignation.
“This man is nothing but a fraud. He steals others’ work, attacks his colleagues, and pretends to be a victim. It’s disgusting.”
The crowd shifted, their disapproval palpable.
Some patients began muttering angrily, their glares piercing Joaquin like daggers.
One older man stepped forward, his face twisted in anger.
“How can someone like you call yourself a doctor? You should be ashamed!”
Joaquin opened his mouth to defend himself, but no words came. He felt trapped, the walls closing in as the weight of their judgment crushed him.
Andrew, sensing victory, stepped closer, his smirk widening.
“What’s the matter, Joaquin? Nothing to say? Or are you finally realizing your place?”
Joaquin straightened his posture, his expression calm but deadly serious.
“Andrew,” he said, his voice steady but loud enough for everyone to hear, “don’t you fear the consequences of twisting the truth like this? Don’t you fear God’s punishment for your lies?”
God’s punishment?”
Andrew laughed sharply, his voice dripping with contempt.
“You’re just a pathetic excuse for a man!”
A sharp cry erupted from Mikyla.
“Andrew!”
Everyone turned to see Andrew clutching his head, his face contorted in pain.
He stumbled backward, collapsing to the floor as blood trickled from his temple.
The crowd gasped, stepping back in shock. Mikyla dropped to her knees beside Andrew, her hands trembling.
“What... what happened?” she stammered, her voice panicked.
“Like I said, God’s punishment,”
Joaquin smiled easily.
Chapter 4: A Chain of Consequences
“Someone call a doctor!” a nurse finally shouted, snapping everyone into action.
Joaquin stood at the edge of the chaos, his face impassive but his heart thrumming with satisfaction.
He couldn’t explain what had just happened, but deep down, he felt the power within him stirring.
The chandelier had fallen perfectly, striking Andrew just as planned.
It wasn’t a fatal blow—he had made sure of that.
But it was enough to knock the arrogance out of him, if only for a moment.
Andrew clutched his bleeding head, his cries of pain reverberating through the lobby.
Mikyla knelt beside him, her hands fluttering uselessly as she tried to stem the blood with a piece of fabric torn from her coat.
“This... this is your doing!”
Andrew spat, glaring up at Joaquin, his voice trembling with both rage and pain.
Joaquin tilted his head, his expression unreadable.
“Me? I didn’t touch you. Maybe it’s divine retribution. Isn’t that what I warned you about?”
“You liar!”
Andrew shouted, his words faltering as another wave of pain overtook him.
A nurse hurried forward with supplies, but her hands shook so badly that she dropped the glass bottle of alcohol she was carrying.
It shattered on the floor, and some of the liquid splashed onto Andrew’s wounds.
His scream was instant, raw, and guttural, silencing everyone in the lobby.
“Watch what you’re doing!” Mikyla snapped at the nurse, her tone sharp as a knife.
“I-I’m sorry!” the nurse stammered, her face pale with fear.
Andrew attempted to stand, leaning heavily on Mikyla as she tried to guide him toward the elevator.
But as the doors slid open, they slammed shut just as quickly, nearly trapping Andrew’s hand in the process.
“What the hell is going on?” Mikyla shouted, her voice rising in panic.
Before anyone could answer, the lights flickered, and the entire hospital was plunged into darkness.
Gasps and murmurs spread through the crowd as the emergency lights slowly kicked in, casting an eerie glow over the scene.
“Great,” Andrew groaned, his voice laced with frustration. “Now the damn power’s out.”
Joaquin suppressed a smirk, his lips twitching as he turned away.
The chaos was poetic, a carefully crafted sequence of events that he had set into motion with his newfound abilities.
Each misfortune wasn’t an accident; it was calculated payback for Andrew.
Joaquin walked away from the hospital, and the tension in his chest began to ease.
He felt a strange sense of liberation, as though shedding the weight of years of humiliation in a single day.
The night air was crisp as Joaquin made his way home, the distant hum of the city blending with the rustle of leaves.
He passed by a lake, its surface reflecting the moonlight like shattered glass.
A sudden splash shattered the stillness, drawing his attention. His eyes darted to the water, where a small figure flailed helplessly.
A child!
Without hesitation, Joaquin dropped his bag and sprinted toward the lake.
He dove into the icy water, the chill biting into his skin as he swam toward the boy.
The child’s movements were frantic, his head bobbing in and out of the water.
“I’ve got you!”
Joaquin murmured as he reached the boy, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him to shore.
The boy coughed and sputtered, his small body trembling as Joaquin gently laid him on the grass.
Joaquin tilted the boy’s head, pressing on his chest to expel the water.
“Come on, kid,” Joaquin muttered under his breath. “Breathe.”
After a tense moment, the boy gasped, his eyes fluttering open.
A small crowd had gathered, their murmurs a mix of concern and relief.
“Is he okay?” someone asked.
“He’s breathing,” Joaquin replied, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him.
A man pushed through the crowd, his eyes wide with worry.
He was older, his hair silver but his posture commanding.
He dropped to his knees beside the boy, his hands trembling as he checked him over.
“Grandfather,” the boy whispered weakly, his voice hoarse.
“Thank you,” the elderly man said, his gaze lifting to meet Joaquin’s. “You saved my grandson’s life. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” Joaquin said, brushing off the gratitude. “Just make sure he’s okay.”
The man’s expression softened into a smile, but there was something sharp behind his eyes, a glimmer of calculation.
“You’re modest. But such bravery deserves recognition. I insist on rewarding you. Fifty thousand bucks.”
The offer caught Joaquin off guard, but he shook his head.
“That won’t be necessary. I didn’t do it for money.”
The man studied him for a moment, his gaze lingering.
“At least let me know your name.”
“Just call me Joaquin,” he replied, standing up and brushing the dirt from his clothes.
But for a second, Joaquin stared at the man.
He immediately noticed his hard breathing.
“Are you okay?”
“Why?”
Joaquin was silent, something was different from the old man.
“Nothing.”
As the boy was taken away, Joaquin lingered for a moment, watching the crowd disperse. Something about the elderly man unsettled him, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint why.
“Wait,” the man called out, stopping Joaquin in his tracks. “Are you certain there’s nothing I can do for you?”
Joaquin hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Your grandson will be fine. That’s all that matters. But I think you should see a doctor.”
With that, he turned and walked away, the man’s gaze heavy on his back.
Hidden in the shadows, the elderly man’s demeanor shifted. The warm, grateful expression melted away, replaced by something colder, more calculating.
“Who is he?” the man murmured, his voice low but firm.
A middle-aged man stepped forward from the shadows, his stance rigid. “Why?”
“I have already talked with a lot of doctors… even the famous one. But no one, not a single one of them managed to find out what desease I have. And this young man, he can see it in one glance.”
“Do you want me to find out?”
“Yes,” the elderly man said, his tone brooking no argument. “Something about him... He’s no ordinary man. I want to know everything about him—where he came from, what he’s capable of, and why he refused the money.”
The middle-aged man nodded. “Understood. I’ll have a report by morning.”
Chapter 5: A Silent Vow
When Joaquin returned home, the familiar scent of a home-cooked meal greeted him.
His elder sister stood by the stove, humming softly as she ladled soup into bowls.
For a moment, Joaquin felt a pang of guilt.
She worked so hard to keep everything together, yet here he was, weighed down by betrayals and battles he hadn’t even begun to share.
“You’re just in time,” she said, her voice warm. “Dinner’s ready!”
At the dinner table, Joaquin forced himself to act normal.
He focused on eating, avoiding eye contact with his sister.
“Is something bothering you?” she asked, her tone gentle but probing.
Joaquin hesitated. “No, just tired from work.”
She seemed unconvinced but didn’t press further.
Instead, she brought up a topic that made Joaquin’s chest tighten.
“How’s Mikyla? She hadn’t come to our place for a while.”
Joaquin’s grip on his chopsticks tightened, but he managed to keep his voice steady.
“She’s been busy with work.”
His sister’s expression softened. “That’s understandable. I was thinking—maybe we should meet her parents soon to discuss the wedding.”
Joaquin froze.
The idea of pretending everything was fine with Mikyla, especially after her betrayal, made his stomach churn.
But he couldn’t bear to disappoint his sister, not when she looked so hopeful.
“Sure,” he said, the word feeling like sandpaper on his tongue.
After dinner, Joaquin retreated to his room, unable to shake the anger simmering beneath his calm exterior.
The memory of Andrew’s taunts and Mikyla’s betrayal replayed in his mind like a broken record. He swore silently to himself: One day, she’ll regret it. She’ll see what she threw away.
Joaquin couldn’t sleep that night. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the floor, his mind turning to the legacy he had inherited.
The voice of his ancestor echoed faintly in his memory, urging him to hone the skills passed down through generations.
He took a deep breath, he focused inward, tapping into the reservoir of knowledge he had unlocked.
Techniques in natural medicine, Western medical practices, and martial arts began to surface in his mind.
It felt like unlocking doors he hadn’t even known existed. Hours passed as he practiced simple movements and mental exercises, each one sharpening his clarity and control.
The next morning, Joaquin woke with a newfound sense of energy. His body felt lighter, his mind clearer.
He was ready to face the hospital, even if it meant enduring the disdain of his colleagues.
Joaquin quickly realized his new role wasn’t going to be easy as he reported to the caregiving station.
Whispers floated around him, snide remarks about his demotion and the rumors spread by Andrew.
He tried to ignore them and focused on his tasks instead.
“Joaquin,” the head nurse called out, her tone was brisk. “We’ve got a situation in Room A01. The patient has gone through four caregivers in less than a week. You’re up next.”
Joaquin frowned. “What’s the issue?”
“Difficult temperament,” she replied with a shrug. “Let’s see if you can handle it.”
Taking a deep breath, Joaquin headed to Room A01. As he approached, he could hear the muffled sound of a TV playing in the background. When he stepped inside, he stopped short.
The patient wasn’t what he expected.
A woman—no older than her late twenties—sat on the bed, her posture relaxed but commanding. Her long legs were crossed, accentuating her confident demeanor. Her skin was flawless, glowing with an almost ethereal quality.
She wore a silk robe that clung to her figure, and her sharp eyes locked onto Joaquin the moment he entered.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice cool but edged with curiosity.
“I’m Joaquin,” he said, holding up his caregiver ID. “I’ll be taking care of you.”
She leaned forward, examining his ID with a raised brow. “Taking care of me? That’s ambitious.”
Joaquin shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. Her confidence was disarming, and there was a sharpness to her tone that hinted she wasn’t easily impressed.
As he prepared to introduce himself further, her lips curled into a faint smirk. “You were staring at me just now,” she said, her voice teasing.
Joaquin felt his face heat up. “I wasn’t—”
“Yes, you were,” she interrupted, her smirk widening. “What caught your eye? My legs? My skin? Or something else?”
Her boldness caught him off guard, and he struggled to find the right words. “I—uh, I didn’t mean to stare. I was just...”
“Looking,” she finished for him, tilting her head. “Well, what did you think?”
Joaquin blinked, unsure how to respond.
Her provocative tone was laced with flirtation, but there was also an edge of amusement as if she enjoyed watching him squirm.
He cleared his throat, deciding to steer the conversation back to professionalism. “I’m here to ensure you’re comfortable and to assist with your recovery. If there’s anything you need, please let me know.”
The woman chuckled softly, leaning back against the pillows. “You’re interesting, Joaquin. Most caregivers either quit or try to boss me around. But you... you’re different.”
Joaquin wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a warning, but he decided to remain cautious. “I’m here to do my job.”
“Good,” she said, her tone playful but firm. “Then let’s see if you can last longer than the others.”
Chapter 6: A Scar That Won’t Heal
Joaquin’s breath caught in his chest as the woman leaned forward, her robe shifting just enough to make him glance away.
Her confidence radiated like a challenge, and for a fleeting second, he felt the urge to match her energy. But no—he reminded himself—this was his job.
“I’m here to check the wound,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. “Nothing else.”
Her eyes narrowed, skepticism clear in her gaze. “Sure you are,” she said, leaning back with a smirk. “Go on then, but keep your hands professional, Joaquin.”
Ignoring her sarcasm, he approached the bed, kneeling to inspect the injury on her leg.
The stitches were tight, the wound deep. Even though it was healing, it was clear the damage had been severe.
“What happened?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.
“Car accident,” she replied flatly. “Driver wasn’t paying attention. Surgery’s scheduled to minimize the scarring, but...” Her voice trailed off, her expression unreadable.
Joaquin hesitated, unsure how to respond. He felt an odd mix of admiration and pity.
The wound didn’t detract from her beauty, but he could see how it weighed on her. Someone so striking shouldn’t have to bear such a mark of pain.
Before he could say more, the door swung open, and a tall, no-nonsense figure strode in—Carlo, the attending doctor.
His gaze swept over the room, landing on the woman with a brusque authority.
“Ms. Andrea,” Carlo said, not bothering with pleasantries. “Let’s cut to the chase. The scar’s not going anywhere. Surgery might help reduce it, but there’s no way to erase it. You’ll need to accept that.”
The words landed like a slap. Andrea’s composed expression faltered, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“No medical solution?” she repeated, her voice sharp with disbelief.
“None,” Carlo replied, unfazed. “We can only do so much. This isn’t a beauty clinic.”
Joaquin watched the exchange, feeling a pang of frustration on her behalf. While Carlo’s words were technically true, his blunt delivery felt unnecessarily cEmilio.
As the tension in the room thickened, Joaquin spoke up, his voice measured.
“There are natural healing methods that could help. They might not erase the scar completely, but they can improve the appearance over time.”
Both Carlo and Andrea turned to him, their reactions starkly different. Andrea looked intrigued, her brows lifting slightly, while Carlo scoffed audibly.
“Natural healing?” Carlo sneered. “What are you, a shaman? Don’t fill her head with nonsense.”
“It’s not nonsense,” Joaquin said. “I’ve studied these methods. They focus on improving circulation and supporting the skin’s regeneration process.”
Carlo waved him off. “Enough. You’re here as a caregiver, not a consultant. Leave the medical advice to professionals.”
“Why? Are you afraid that I’m right?”
Joaquin smirked.
“You know nothing about being a doctor! Don’t meddle to things that you’re not sure about!”
“I’m not. I’m just giving my suggestion.”
“And you’re not here to give your opinions. Remember your place, Joaquin!”
Joaquin opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself.
Getting into a debate with Carlo wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Andrea.
Bowing his head slightly, he turned to leave.
“Wait,” Andrea said suddenly, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
Joaquin paused, glancing back over his shoulder. She was looking directly at him now, her sharp gaze softer, almost thoughtful.
“What kind of natural methods are you talking about?” she asked again.
“It’s nothing, Ms. Andrea! Don’t listen to him!”
Andrea glared at Carlo and he immediately looked away.
Joaquin hesitated, aware that Carlo was still in the room and he doesn’t want a new trouble again.
But seeing Andrea’s desperation, he decided to help.
“They’re based on traditional medicine,” he said carefully. “Topical treatments, massages to promote healing.”
Andrea tilted her head, considering his words. “And you know how to do this?”
“I do,” Joaquin said confidently.
“Andrea, don’t listen—”
Andrea nodded. “Then I want to try it.”
“That’s absurd!” Carlo snapped. “You’re wasting time on unproven methods! Stick to the treatment plan we’ve already discussed!”
“Your treatment plan doesn’t seem very promising,” Andrea shot back, her tone icy. “If Joaquin has an alternative, I’ll hear it.”
Chapter 7: The Unbelievable Truth
The room buzzed with tension as Joaquin stood at the foot of the hospital bed, Joaquin was preparing his tools for the treatment.
The air was thick with skepticism, and Carlo made no effort to hide his disdain.
“This is ridiculous!” Carlo sneered, crossing his arms.
“You’re feeding her false hope! There’s no way your little water-and-herbs trick will work!”
Andrea leaned back against the pillows, her eyes fixed on Joaquin.
“I’ve already told you, Doctor,” she said with a cool smile, “I’ll decide what’s worth trying. If Joaquin says he can help, I’ll let him.”
An intern beside Carlo snorted.
“A caregiver acting like a doctor? What a joke!”
Joaquin glanced at them briefly, unfazed.
“You’re welcome to stay and watch. Maybe you’ll learn something.”
The boldness of his retort made the interns gape, and even Carlo’s eyebrows twitched in irritation.
“Fine,” Carlo said, his tone laced with mockery. “Let’s see this miracle of yours.”
Joaquin took a deep breath, steadying himself.
He dipped his fingers into the bowl of water he had prepared earlier.
The potion shimmered faintly, though no one seemed to notice except Andrea, who raised an eyebrow.
“What’s in that?” she asked.
“Natural extracts,” Joaquin replied simply. “Years of refinement passed down in my family.”
Carlo rolled his eyes.
“Spare us the sales pitch and get on with it.”
Ignoring him, Joaquin began to gently apply the potion to Andrea’s scar.
His movements were precise, almost rhythmic, as though he were following a ritual.
The room fell silent, the onlookers too intrigued to interrupt.
After a few minutes, Andrea frowned, then gasped softly.
“It feels... warm. Tingling, even.”
“It’s working,” Joaquin said quietly, his focus unwavering.
“Working?” one of the interns scoffed. “You’ve barely done anything. Stop pretending this is some kind of magic.”
But before anyone could respond, Andrea sat up abruptly, her eyes wide.
“Wait! Look!”
All heads turned to her leg, and the room collectively froze.
The scar—the deep, angry gash that had marred her perfect skin—was fading.
It was faint at first, but with each passing second, it became more pronounced.
The redness subsided, the raised tissue smoothed out, and soon, all that remained was the faintest trace of a mark.
The room erupted.
“No way!” one intern exclaimed, stumbling back.
“This can’t be real!” another cried.
Andrea's wound healed almost as if by magic.
Within seconds, the scar that had marred her calf disappeared, replaced by flawless, porcelain-smooth skin.
The interns stared, their mouths agape, while Carlo, who had spent the past few minutes mocking Joaquin, stood frozen in disbelief.
“This is impossible!” Carlo muttered, leaning closer to inspect Andrea’s leg.
“How did you do it?” he finally asked, his voice sharp with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
Joaquin remained calm, his expression unreadable.
“Natural therapy,” he said simply.
Carlo’s brows furrowed.
“Natural therapy?” he repeated, his tone skeptical. “Don’t play games with me, Joaquin. This is no ordinary treatment!”
“I don’t need to explain myself,” Joaquin replied evenly.
“The results are clear, aren’t they?”
Carlo’s face darkened. “If you don’t tell me the truth, I’ll report you for being a fraud! The hospital won’t tolerate quackery!”
Joaquin met his gaze, unwavering. “Go ahead and report me, Carlo. But the results speak for themselves. I’m not here to debate; I’m here to help.”
Andrea, now fully composed, turned her sharp gaze to Carlo.
“Doctor,” she said icily, “you’ve been doubting him from the start, yet he delivered results you couldn’t even dream of. So tell me—who’s the real professional here?”
Carlo opened his mouth to argue but quickly shut it when he saw the steely look in her eyes.
“Leave!” she commanded.
