That evening, Gramps received a rare visit from Dr. Raymond, the director of the clinic—a man whose reputation preceded him, not just for his medical expertise but for his calculated charm. Tycoons like Gramps Jack were magnets for attention, and it wasn’t lost on anyone that when figures of influence falter, entire empires can crumble. Dr. Raymond knew how to tread carefully in such circles, his polished demeanor masking whether his intentions were purely professional or guided by business acumen.
The doctor greeted Gramps with an easy smile, his tone buoyant. "Good news, Mr. Jack," he began. "Starting today, you'll transition to our prescribed diet. Only liquids for now—one step at a time. We’re removing the IV, so you’ll be on your own power from here on out. Cheer up. You gave us quite the scare."
Dr. Raymond chuckled softly, his eyes darting between Gramps and Granny. "You know," he said, his voice tinged with playful charm, "you two look like a pair of newlyweds—young and radiant, as if life has turned back the clock for you. What’s your secret?"
The compliment hung in the air, almost too polished, too practiced. Was it genuine flattery or a calculated move to soothe and ingratiate himself? Ted, standing quietly at the foot of the bed, couldn't decide. The polished words carried an ambiguous weight—were they rooted in ethical care or cleverly veiled opportunism?
Granny, however, didn’t seem to care. She held Gramps’ hand, her grip firm yet tender, as though anchoring him to the life they were reclaiming. Gramps let out a soft laugh, his first in weeks, and squeezed her hand back. Whatever doubts lingered about Dr. Raymond’s sincerity were eclipsed by the subtle miracle of Gramps’ recovery—a fragile hope steadily turning into something tangible.
Ted watched the scene unfold, his mind whirring. Sometimes, even the faintest thread of human decency—be it genuine or performative—could spark a kind of magic. Maybe morality, however nuanced or reserved, did have the power to work wonders.
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