Rise Of Michael Jordan

Chapter 19

The hospital room was dim, the steady beep of monitors the only sound accompanying Hawthorne’s shallow breaths. Tubes and wires kept him alive, his body broken, head swathed in thick bandages. Milton stood beside the bed, hands clasped behind his back, his eyes as sharp and unreadable as stone.

The door creaked, and Dr. Zhang Wei stepped inside. His face brightened quickly in a respectful smile as he bowed slightly.

“Mr. Milton.”

Milton didn’t turn. His gaze remained fixed on the battered man lying helpless before him.

“Tell me, Doctor,” his voice was calm, low, yet threaded with menace. “Will he survive this?”

Dr. Zhang hesitated, then adjusted his glasses. “The punches… they severed several arteries. His body went into severe shock. We managed to stabilize him, but the damage is critical. Even if he recovers, he’ll never be the same.”

Milton finally looked at him, his smile thin and chilling. “Then perhaps we should… end this for good. Spare him the suffering. After all, a man broken is little more than a shadow.”

The doctor’s throat tightened. He took a step back, words tumbling cautiously. “Mr. Milton… do you mean… are you asking me to—”

The question died on his tongue. One look into Milton’s cold, steady eyes gave him the answer. Dr. Zhang swallowed hard. “…I will do as inquired.”

Milton’s lips curled, amused. “Tell me, Zhang… how long have you known me?”

“Going on twenty-five years now, sir,” the doctor said quickly.

“Twenty-five,” Milton repeated softly, almost as if savoring the number. “You’ve done well all these years. And your son? How is he?”

Dr. Zhang’s shoulders loosened slightly at the question, but his voice still trembled. “He’s fine. Thanks only to you, Mr. Milton.”

Memories flickered between them—the car accident that left Zhang’s boy paralyzed. The hospitals had given up, the bills had buried the family. And then Milton intervened. He brought specialists, poured resources, forced the boy’s life back when hope had died. The debt bound the doctor as surely as chains.

“I hope,” Milton said softly, his eyes narrowing, “that you’ll continue this great work.”

The doctor lowered his head. “Yes, sir.” His voice shook.

Milton finally leaned down, his hand resting almost gently against Hawthorne’s bandaged head. His words came like a cruel lullaby.

“You’ve stood by my side, Hawthorne. Loyal, unyielding. But it’s time you rest. Find peace.”

A tear slid down the man’s swollen face, his eyes half-open beneath the oxygen mask.

Milton’s smile never faltered. “I promise your death will not be wasted.” He straightened, turning to the doctor. “Handle him with care. I’ll need his brain.”

The doctor bowed deeply, unable to meet his gaze.

“Yes, Mr. Milton.”

Milton left without another word, his shadow lingering long after the door shut behind him.

___________

I sat propped against the pillows in the room, the ache in my body was constant but it was still tolerable. On the bedside table, Mia set down a steaming bowl, the aroma earthy and faintly bitter.

She smiled proudly. “I made this for you. It’ll help you regain your strength.”

I peered at it, then at her. “What is this about?”

“I told you,” she said, her hands on her hips. “For you. So you can recover your energy.”

I leaned back, exhaling. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m perfectly fine.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you’re avoiding my food because you think it won’t taste good?”

I laughed, waving my hand. “No, no. That’s not it. I was just—”

“Then have a bite.” She shoved the bowl closer, cutting me off.

I stared at the contents. The color was off, the texture uneven, and I could already imagine the taste turning in my tongue to ash. Instarted to rise from the bed. “I think I’ll—”

But Mia moved fast, trying to force the spoon toward me. In the struggle, we both lost balance, tumbling to the floor with a thud.

I landed above her as my hands braced to keep from crushing her. She was beneath me, her eyes wide, chest rising with heavy breaths. For a moment, silence stretched between us—her face close, her breath warm against my cheek. My heartbeat thudded louder than my wounds.

Then—

The door burst open.

“Kael!” Aria’s voice rang out as she stepped inside, Liam at her side.

I froze. Mia’s eyes went wider than before, and in a panic she reached up and covered Liam’s eyes with her hand. “Sorry!” she squeaked, scrambling. She shot to her feet and dashed out of the room, her face was red.

I staggered up after her, calling out, “Aria—wait!” I hurried toward the hall.

Behind me, Mia’s laughter rang out from outside the door, loud and unashamed.

I barely caught up to them in the hallway—Aria holding Liam’s tiny hand, walking fast like she wanted nothing more than to vanish. My chest tightened. I reached out, fingers brushing her arm.

“Aria, wait—”

She jerked away and screamed, her voice shattering through the company halls.

“Don’t touch me!”

The sound echoed, bouncing against the walls, cutting through me sharper than any blade. Heads turned. Employees slowed their steps, whispering among themselves.

“Isn’t that Mr. Kael’s wife?”

“She looks furious…”

“Did he… cheat on her or something?”

“Look at his clothes, he’s bruised up too. Something bad happened.”

Their murmurs were knives digging into my back. My jaw clenched.

“It’s not what you think,” I said quickly, my voice low, desperate. “I can explain everything.”

She spun on me, her eyes glistening with hurt. “Did I ask for your explanation?” Her words hit harder than any wound.

She tightened her grip on Liam’s hand. “We were coming from the hospital. I only stopped by to say hello. But now that I’ve seen you—” her voice cracked but her face stayed cold—“we can leave right now.”

And just like that, she walked away with our son. My throat burned, but no words came out.

At the same moment, Darren came striding in from the other side of the hall. He smiled at first when he saw Aria. “Aria, good evening—”

She brushed past without a glance. Darren’s smile faltered, and he turned to me. “What happened? Are you two fighting again?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t know.”

His eyes scanned me, sharp as always, and lingered on the bruises, the dried blood. “Kael… did you get into a fight again?”

I sighed. “I was attacked. By Seraphine.”

His expression hardened immediately. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “We can’t talk here. Follow me.”

I trailed behind him into the office we now shared. Strange—me, once the lone wolf, now sitting at the desk beside my brother as his assistant. Darren shut the door and turned to me.

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

So I did. I told him about the night, the blood, the guards, Julien on his knees. Every detail, though my voice stayed clipped.

Darren leaned against his desk, arms folded. “You have to be careful. The Delacroix family… they don’t know anything but money. And men like that? They’ll do anything—anything—to protect their empire. Including hurting whoever stands in their way.”

“I’ll take care of it,” I muttered.

I glanced at the clock. A few minutes to nine. My body screamed for rest, but there was no time. “I have somewhere to be,” I said, already standing.

The hallway outside felt heavier somehow, the air thick. That was when I saw her—Mia. She stood there, waiting. My chest clenched, heartbeat quickening against my will. I couldn’t even face her properly.

“Your wife… she’s left already?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” I answered too fast. “She left.”

She only nodded. The silence stretched.

“What about your health?” she asked after a moment, her eyes full of worry.

“I’m better now,” I said, trying to keep it short. I couldn’t take the awkwardness pressing between us. “I’ll see you later.”

I moved to walk past her, but she called after me. “Don’t come home bruised again.”

I froze. My throat went dry. “…Hmm,” was all I managed before leaving.

Out in the night air, I pressed a fist to my chest, pounding at the racing heart beneath. “What’s going on with me?” I muttered. Mia’s face, her breath beneath me on the floor, her eyes—they kept flashing in my head.

“No.” I slapped myself, the sting grounding me. “Wake up. You have a family. What the hell are you thinking about a young girl like that?”

The blare of a car horn cut through my self-reproach. I turned.

A sleek black car idled at the curb. Behind the wheel, Jessica leaned lazily, her lips curled into that same seductive smirk. Tonight she wore a tight crimson dress, low-cut, her hair spilling over her bare shoulders. She lifted her fingers and waved.

“Kael,” she sang.

I sighed, dragging myself toward her and sliding into the passenger seat.

I eyed her outfit, shaking my head. “Don’t you have any decent clothes in your wardrobe?”

Her lips curled, her tone dripping with tease. “But you like me better this way… don’t you?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You are really hopeless,” I muttered.

“Where are we going this time?” I asked flatly.

Her smile widened, dark and knowing. “Somewhere no one else knows. A place that will tell you exactly who Dr. Milton Carroway really is.”

My gut tightened. Somehow, I knew whatever waited there… wouldn’t be good.

Jessica killed the engine after an hours of driving. The road had ended into a dirt clearing that opened up into a wall of towering trees. An entrance into a forest—it looked untouched, wild, and secret. My brows pulled together.

Jessica was the first to move. She pushed open the car door without hesitation and stepped out, her heels crunching over dry twigs. I followed, the air immediately damp and cooler against my skin.

I glanced around at the dark canopy stretching ahead, the kind of place that could swallow you whole.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, my voice low, cautious.

Jessica’s eyes cut toward me, steady, unreadable. “The truth you’ve never known about Milton…” she paused, her lips tightening, “…you’ll get to know it today.”

Something in her tone rooted me in unease, but I fell into step behind her as she led the way into the thicket. Branches scratched against my jacket, the ground soft with layers of rotting leaves. We came across a house in the distance. From afar, it looked abandoned with a slanted roof.

We approached, but Jessica suddenly lifted her hand to stop me. She crouched and pointed to the ground.

“Look carefully, Kael. Traps.”

I squinted, following her finger. The forest floor wasn’t natural. Beneath the scattered leaves were subtle signs—trip wires barely visible in the dim light, pits disguised under flimsy coverings, and metal jaws of bear traps, their teeth stained faintly with rust. One wrong step and your leg would be shredded.

A cold sweat slid down my spine.

“Follow only where I walk,” Jessica instructed. “Step for step.”

I nodded, my throat tight, and did as told. Every time her foot pressed down, I mirrored her precisely, careful not to deviate. The closer we drew to the house, the stronger the stench of damp earth and iron became.

At the entrance, she reached into a satchel and handed me a folded lab coat. “Put this on.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“You’ll understand in a moment.”

The weight of it in my hands was unsettling, but I shrugged into it, the fabric cold against my skin. Together, we pushed open the door.

The moment I stepped inside, the world tilted.

Outside, the building was rotting, a forgotten husk. Inside—it was something else entirely. Sterile white walls. The hum of fluorescent lights. Rows of surgical equipment. The tables were lined with scalpels, clamps, syringes. Glass tanks filled with a pale yellowish fluid. And inside them—

Heads.

Human heads. Preserved, their eyes sealed shut, their faces frozen.

The sight hit me like a fist to the gut. My stomach twist. I staggered back, pressing a hand against the wall for balance. My vision blurred as I fought the urge to vomit.

“What the hell is this place?” I managed to choke out.

Jessica’s gaze was hard, her expression laced with bitterness. “This is Doctor Milton’s special research house. A place no one in the world knows about.”

Her words punched harder than the stench. “What do you mean?” I demanded, my voice rising.

She took a step toward one of the tanks, her fingers grazing the glass. The pale face inside seemed to float, lifeless, like a grotesque museum exhibit.

“Do you remember the Clean Seed Project?” she asked.

I nodded quickly. “Yes—I remember it all too well.”

Her lips curved in a humorless smile. “Back then, the president launched it. They wanted to detect the psychopath gene in unborn children and terminate them before they were born. Thousands of families lost children. The people revolted. It became unbearable.”

I remembered. The riots. The protests. The tear gas filling the streets.

“But then Milton and his friend came,” Jessica continued, her voice sharp with disdain. “They campaigned, they spoke of freedom. Milton stood against the project. He promised every child deserved life. He said those born with the gene should be guided, nurtured, not destroyed. The world praised him. They called him savior.”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “I remember all of it.”

Her eyes snapped to mine, hard and unyielding. “But Milton Carroway is still running the tests, Kael. Not to save lives. To hunt them. Pregnant women are brought here. He scans for the gene. If it appears—he kills the child. He takes their brain.”

Her voice trembled with a mix of fury and grief as she pointed to the jars surrounding us.

“People worship him as a hero. But in truth?” She gestured at the grotesque gallery of heads. “He’s a monster wearing a mask. A butcher parading as a savior.”

I stared around me, the room spinning. Every glass jar was proof. Every lifeless face was another secret sacrificed in the name of his twisted science.

I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing at Jessica. “What exactly is he planning to do with all this?” My voice was low, dangerous, like a blade pressed against the skin.

Jessica hesitated, but then her words spilled out, sharp and grim.

“Milton doesn’t just deal in money or power, Kael. He’s playing god. He wants to use science—not to cure, not to build—but to dominate. He’s been funding a research to make genetic manipulation, bio-weapons, even mind-control serums. Imagine soldiers stripped of their will, bodies enhanced beyond human limits, their loyalty burned into them like branding on cattle. That’s his vision—an army that doesn’t question, doesn’t fear, doesn’t break. He calls it ‘the new order of men.’”

A bitter laugh slipped from her lips, but there was no humor in it. “To him, people are clay. Tools. Flesh to be molded into weapons. He doesn’t see them as human.”

I felt the air shift in my lungs, heavier, thicker. My hands clenched, the memory of blood and chains gnawing at my mind. So that was Milton’s endgame? To build an empire of monsters, crafted in labs and cages?

I exhaled slowly, voice gritted. “And what about Malik Radwan and his Black Serpent group? Don’t tell me that’s just coincidence.”

Jessica’s eyes darkened, and she leaned closer, her words dropping like poison into my ears.

“Malik was never free. He was part of Milton’s game. Don’t you see? Milton was the one who sold you and your men out to him. Every move Malik made, every ambush, every whisper—it all fed back to Milton. And when you nearly had Malik, when you had him bleeding and cornered… it wasn’t Malik’s luck that saved him. It was Milton’s hand. He pulled the strings. He made sure you were caged instead.”

The truth hit me like a hammer. My chest burned, rage clawing to be unleashed. My voice thundered in the silence of the room:

“So all this time… Milton was the architect of every problem. Every betrayal. Every death.”

Jessica nodded, slow and deliberate, her gaze fixed on me with the weight of unshakable certainty. “Yes, Kael. Every thread leads back to him.”