"Are you peddling snake oil to a crippled girl?"
The Board President laughed aloud. The cruel sound bounced off the carved mahogany walls of the grand auditorium.
The four other corporate directors joined in the mockery. They looked at the small porcelain vial in Ryan hand with deep contempt. They managed billions in European capital. They did not believe in magic potions.
"Modern medicine condemned her throat," the President sneered. "The finest surgeons in Europe refused to touch those nodules. You think a prop from a magic show is going to reverse severe cellular damage?"
Ryan Parker did not lower his hand. The faint golden glow of the vial illuminated his pristine white cuffs.
"I do not answer to European surgeons," Ryan stated clinically. "I answer to the physics of sound."
The
