Chapter 233 Nagging Man
Another name for coincidence is "fate," just like how inevitability always lurks behind chance.
Veselin was rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment. Although the small amount of poison wouldn't kill him, he needed at least three years of rest and recovery.
How many people at City Hall would remember him after three years?
The mayoral election finally ended.
Brian began his battle with City Hall.
The City Hall officials wanted to marginalize the mayor, turning the position into a figurehead; Brian simply neutralized City Hall, turning it into just a building called "City Hall."
Their struggle didn't concern me much. My work focus returned to the hotel, the pharmaceutical factory, and building the medical school.
My personal focus was on the pregnancy and accompanying Lucas to his psychological therapy.
During this time, he seemed normal on the surface, but insomnia continued to plague him. Even when he fell asleep, he would jerk awake from nightmares.
As for my psychological issues, Eugene said that since I had already made a breakthrough and returned to the operating table, there was no need to force myself to repeatedly recall those memories.
Time would slowly mend the deep wounds on my heart.
In mid-August, the weather was sweltering.
Roger called me, grumbling irritably, "When is 'The Slaver' going to be discharged? Is he addicted to staying here or what!"
I rubbed my temples in frustration. "The Slaver" was Roger's nickname for Theron.
Theron was deeply paranoid, always believing someone was out to get him. He was arrogant and abrasive, constantly making unreasonable demands of the medical staff.
Aside from Roger, the medical staff had given Theron all sorts of nicknames in private. On two occasions, Theron overheard them and came storming to me, demanding that I fire the employees who disrespected him.
"It's not just you, I'm also hoping he'll leave soon." I sighed. "Let me figure something out."
Roger growled unhappily, "I don't care if you have a solution or not, you have to get rid of him!"
I had just set down my phone when Lucas entered into my office.
Like a dog returning to its den, he first did his rounds.
If the air conditioning was too cold, he would complain.
If I drank a cold beverage with too much sugar, he would grumble.
If he found me working at my desk for too long without rest, he would nag endlessly.
I never knew the cold and reserved Lucas could talk so much.
Lucas came over to me, kissed me first, then knelt in front of me and kissed my belly.
"Was the baby good today?" he inquired.
"The fetal movements were lively, but within the normal range," I responded.
Together, we went to see Eugene.
Eugene had adapted to work and life in the recovery area. He was what people call tough. In his youth, he was just an ordinary psychologist who hypnotized an important person and overheard secrets he shouldn't have, and has been hunted ever since.
His most famous achievement was hypnotizing a hitman when cornered, controlling him to take out the other hitmen, and successfully escaping.
In a way, Eugene was also a troublemaker, which is why he clicked so well with Roger.
I'd eavesdropped on their conversations a few times and always felt like one had a faulty brain and the other had a short temper, never on the same wavelength—but as long as they were happy.
Eugene operated from his own quarters, with his living room doubling as the consultation room.
He had us sit down casually and spoke with us in a relaxed manner.
Eugene asked, "Isabella, I heard your medical school is all set up?"
"Yes, the entrance exam is in three days."
"Do you have a psychology program? I think I could serve as a guest professor."
"That would be wonderful! If only Roger were as easy to talk to as you."
Eugene laughed heartily. "I'll help you convince him. He has a short temper, but he's a good person."
The first time I went with Lucas to Eugene's counseling, I talked with Eugene for three hours until my mouth felt like a parched desert.
Many psychologists are better at listening. Eugene was different—he especially loved to talk. I once suspected Lucas's talkativeness was shaped by Eugene.
Later I came to understand that Eugene gathered information through chatting, with patients often unwittingly revealing their true thoughts.
Eugene inquired, "Lucas, how's your rest been lately?"
Lucas responded, "Not bad."
Eugene asked, "Are you having dreams?"
Lucas nodded.
Eugene remarked, "I recently read an article saying dreams aren't projections of our subconscious, but rather another version of ourselves in a parallel universe. I find that idea fascinating. So, let's talk about your dreams."
Lucas nodded.
When he spoke, I didn't interrupt. I had studied some psychology and would silently assess whether Lucas's condition was improving or worsening.
Eugene said, "Very interesting dreams. Your condition has improved a lot. Don't be too tense. Bella is so understanding—what reason do you have not to accept yourself? Don't resist your personality, go with its changes."
I nodded in agreement. Eugene then looked at me. "And you, don't be too anxious either. Even if Lucas has psychological issues, to you it's just a minor problem—nobody's going to die. Alright, that's it for today. You can go now."
We bid goodbye to Eugene. Walking through the recovery area, we bumped into Theron.
Theron was berating Callahan for being stupid and clumsy. Lucas and I pretended not to hear, nodded to Theron in greeting, and kept walking.
After getting in the car, I called Edgar.
Edgar was recently preparing for a promotion and sounded upbeat. "Ms. Sorelli, what can I do for you?"
I smiled. "A small matter. Please tell Stephen that if he wants to eliminate Theron, don't let him die on my property."
Edgar was silent for two seconds, then gravely said he understood.
A week later, Theron was released and returned to Dawnharbor.
I wasn't clear on what Stephen did, but soon after Theron returned, the Thornfield family suddenly introduced a new rule—the star rating system for families.
After the Valeri family's downfall, the four major families appeared harmonious on the surface but had engaged in over a dozen gunfights in secret.
All four families wanted to be top dog. If they couldn't be, then they'd keep the other families from growing stronger!
The old system led by the five major families no longer fit the current situation. Change and innovation were unavoidable.
The Thornfield family proposed ranking all mafia families into seven levels based on assets, potential, and overall strength: half-star, one-star, two-star, three-star, four-star, five-star, and super-star.
To ensure fair ratings, they would set up a Rating Committee in Dawnharbor to replace the once-every-five-years hunting competition, under the guise of strengthening connections between families.
Families that accepted this system could send a representative to the committee.
The Thornfield family, the Marr family, the Caudill family, and the Woods family automatically became founding members of the Rating Committee. Both Gale and Lucas got invitations from the committee.
The Sorelli family was rated four-and-a-half stars.
Lucas's BlueWave Maritime Group was also rated four-and-a-half stars.
At the family meeting, Gale asked for our opinions.
I rubbed the invitation, thinking silently.
Lucas casually flung the invitation on the table and said arrogantly and domineeringly, "Just because they made the rules means I have to follow them? In the Northern District, they can only follow my rules."