Chapter 164: You Won't Be at a Loss
The lunch rush had already passed.
Customers at the neighboring tables gradually paid their bills and left.
Servers began clearing plates, and the restaurant slowly settled into a comfortable silence.
Feeling that the main discussion had wrapped up, Ethan stood up, preparing to head back to the clinic.
Eleanor, however, gently pushed her utensils aside and remained seated.
"If you don't mind," she said, "I'd like to discuss some of the foundation's details."
"...?"
Ethan blinked and sat back down.
He had assumed the remaining conversation would be limited to procedural matters—registration, legal qualifications, bank accounts, staffing.
Things like that.
They weren't completely unfamiliar to him.
When he opened the clinic, he'd stumbled through those same bureaucratic hurdles one step at a time.
But the questions Eleanor raised next quickly made him realize how naïve he had been.
Running a clinic was difficult, certainly.
But at its core, it was still a physician-led organization.
Once licensing requirements, medical liability, and malpractice procedures were settled, everything else remained within fairly clear boundaries.
A foundation was something entirely different.
Ethan had always imagined it as little more than charity on a larger scale.
Eleanor quickly showed him that it was actually a minefield woven together from regulations, interests, politics, and risk.
A single question nearly drove him insane:
Who is allowed to donate to the foundation?
Ethan's thinking was straightforward.
If the money was legal, they could accept it.
Whether it came from an individual or a corporation didn't matter.
As long as the accounts were transparent, there was nothing to feel guilty about.
But to Eleanor, legality was merely the absolute minimum requirement.
"Controversial figures are out."
"People with long-term reputational instability are out."
"Anyone with an excessively obvious political affiliation is out."
Then she began listing examples.
Business owners with documented bribery scandals who had never been formally convicted.
Major corporations repeatedly accused of exploiting workers.
Private foundations connected to foreign political figures.
And financial institutions currently under investigation, even if no charges had yet been filed.
When she reached the last example, Ethan's eyes widened.
Isn't that basically describing Axe Capital?
Before he could fully process that realization, Eleanor had already moved on.
"Financial oversight."
She raised a finger.
"The first option: complete self-regulation."
That was instinctively the option Ethan preferred.
Eleanor dismissed it immediately.
"No credibility."
"The moment someone questions your integrity, you have almost no way to prove your innocence."
"Unless you're operating entirely with private funding."
She raised a second finger.
"Third-party independent auditing."
"The most common and safest option."
"Professional oversight. Controlled risk."
Then she paused.
"But the problem is this."
"Auditors verify compliance."
"They don't verify justice."
"They can never answer one fundamental question."
She looked directly at him.
"Why save this person instead of that person?"
Then came the third option.
"The government."
The moment she said it, Ethan felt trouble coming.
"If you choose to become a public charitable foundation—or anything even remotely public in nature—it means accepting government audits."
"Public disclosures."
"Policy guidance."
Every sentence felt heavier than the last.
Ethan rubbed his forehead.
His scalp was beginning to tingle.
They had only discussed a handful of topics.
Yet he was already starting to wonder whether creating a foundation had been an incredibly reckless idea.
After hesitating for a moment, he glanced at Eleanor and cautiously spoke.
"If it's really this complicated... maybe..."
Eleanor slowly lifted her eyes.
The temperature in her gaze noticeably dropped.
Ethan instantly corrected himself.
"Maybe..."
"Maybe we should postpone it by a couple of years?"
The look she gave him made it abundantly clear that this was exactly the wrong answer.
Eleanor's expression didn't change, but her tone flattened into something almost cold.
"So when you said you wanted to help more people..."
"Was that just something you said in passing?"
"Of course not," Ethan immediately shot back.
"It's just... I'm a doctor. I know how to diagnose patients and save lives. All this other stuff is way too complicated. I honestly have no idea how to deal with it."
Eleanor looked at him and paused for a second.
"What if you didn't have to?"
"If someone else handled the rules, the structure, the risks, and the attacks?"
She stood up and straightened her jacket.
Her voice remained calm, yet carried a force that was impossible to ignore.
"You would only need to do one thing."
"Treat patients."
"Save lives."
"And protect the line you just described."
Her eyes locked onto his.
"If that's the case..."
"Do you still want to do it?"
Meeting her gaze, Ethan didn't hesitate this time.
"Yes."
Eleanor nodded lightly, as though she had expected that answer from the beginning.
"Then from this moment forward," she said, "your job is to protect that line."
She paused.
For the first time, a sharp edge appeared beneath her composure.
"As for everything else..."
"I'll handle it."
After saying goodbye to Eleanor, Ethan returned to the clinic.
By the time he arrived, it was already close to two in the afternoon.
The afternoon appointments would begin soon.
He changed into his white coat, stepped out of the treatment room, and headed toward the front desk to pour himself a cup of coffee.
But as he rounded the corner, his pace unconsciously slowed.
A thought suddenly occurred to him.
Something about Eleanor felt... off.
Not physically.
Not medically.
Just... different.
She seemed unusually invested in the clinic.
Whenever she'd visited before, she always looked busy—rushing from one obligation to another, focused on work, constantly chasing the next objective.
Today, for some reason...
She seemed almost idle.
The moment the thought surfaced, he couldn't shake it.
Ethan found it strange.
Given her status and the environment she came from, she shouldn't have had this much free time.
And she definitely shouldn't have been willing to devote so much energy to a foundation that didn't even exist yet.
When he'd suggested delaying the project for a few years, she'd looked genuinely unhappy about it.
Ethan walked up to the reception desk.
Helen was organizing appointment schedules.
Hearing his footsteps, she looked up and casually slid a freshly poured cup of coffee toward him.
He accepted it but didn't drink.
Instead, he stood there for a moment, hesitating.
First, he briefly explained his idea of creating a foundation.
Then he summarized his conversation with Eleanor over lunch.
"Helen," he said at last, "am I overthinking this?"
"Hmm?" She didn't even look up.
"Eleanor."
Ethan carefully chose his words.
"She was... a little too enthusiastic today."
Helen's hands paused.
She looked up at him, then quietly closed the file in front of her and pushed it aside.
"You think she has some kind of ulterior motive?" she asked.
Ethan shook his head.
"I don't know."
After a moment, he added,
"It just feels like she suddenly has nothing else to do."
A faint smile appeared on Helen's lips.
It wasn't teasing.
It was the kind of smile that said:
So you've finally noticed.
"Didn't you realize?" she asked.
"Today she only brought one bodyguard."
"Now that you mention it..." Ethan thought back. "Something changed in her position within the family?"
"That doesn't make sense. The Harringtons paid a huge price to cure her. Why would they heal her just to push her aside?"
Helen shrugged.
"No idea what happened exactly."
She paused.
"But she definitely has a lot more free time now."
Ethan looked genuinely confused.
"Her illness is gone. With her personality, shouldn't she be even busier than before?"
"Theoretically, yes."
Helen nodded.
"Which means we can safely assume this wasn't her choice."
Ethan felt even more lost.
Seeing the expression on his face, Helen laughed softly and slowed her tone.
"Don't overcomplicate it."
"Something obviously happened."
"But regardless of the reason, one thing is certain."
She pointed toward him.
"She can help you tremendously."
Ethan frowned.
"I know that."
"But it still feels like something isn't—"
"Don't worry."
Helen cut him off.
Her voice remained gentle, but there was a hint of deeper meaning behind it.
"If you're with her, you're definitely not going to be the one who loses out."
Ethan blinked.
"...What does that mean?"
Helen offered no explanation.
She simply lowered her head and resumed sorting documents, as though the statement required none.
"A powerful woman is offering to help you."
"You should just enjoy it."
Then she glanced toward the waiting area.
"Stop thinking about it."
"The afternoon patients are already here."
Ethan opened his mouth to ask another question.
In the end, he let it go.
He honestly had no idea what she meant.
But he had a nagging feeling that the situation was far more complicated than it appeared.
After an entire afternoon of treatments, Ethan quickly forgot about all the random thoughts that had occupied his mind earlier.
By the time the clinic closed, he said goodbye to Helen, got into his car, and started the engine.
Instinctively, he prepared to drive home.
Then he stopped.
For some reason, he didn't really want to return to the apartment today.
After all...
Last night had been painfully awkward.
Maybe...
Maybe he should go see Max.
The decision came quickly.
There was no such thing as awkwardness around Max.
No matter how ridiculous or embarrassing a situation became, Max always had a talent for making it even worse with a single sentence.
And once things reached that level of complete social destruction, there was nothing left to explain.
Ethan switched on his turn signal.
His car merged into the evening traffic and disappeared into the city lights, heading toward the Williamsburg Diner.
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