Chapter 69 Longest walk

Chapter 69 Longest walk
The morning of the presentation was grey and cold. I woke up at five in the morning, my heart already hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I didn’t eat breakfast.

My stomach felt like it was full of stones. I just drank a cup of black coffee and stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

I didn’t wear the expensive, designer suit my father had sent over for the occasion. Instead, I wore a simple white blouse, dark trousers, and my white lab coat.

I pinned my student ID to my chest. I wanted to look like a scientist, not a socialite. I wanted everyone in that room to see Elena the student, not Elena the Vance.

"You look like you're going to war," Leo said, leaning against the doorway. He was already dressed in his team tracksuit, ready for the pre-game skate.

"It feels like it," I whispered. I picked up my flash drive, the one that held my research on Jaxson’s recovery and the future of sports medicine. "Is Jax okay?"

"He’s nervous, but he’s focused," Leo said. He walked over and gave my shoulder a squeeze. "He told me to tell you that he’s already proud of you. No matter what the grades say."

"Thanks, Leo."

"I'll be there, El," he promised. "I’m sitting in the back. If things get ugly, just look at me."

The Medical Science Building was a giant tower of glass and steel. Usually, I felt at home here, but today the lobby felt like a trap. I took the elevator to the fourth floor, where the large lecture hall was located.

When I pushed open the heavy wooden doors, the room was already half-full. Professors were sitting in the front row, whispering and looking at clipboards. Students were nervously checking their slides.

And there, right in the center of the front row, sat my father.

Arthur Vance looked like he owned the building. He probably did own parts of it. He was wearing a grey suit that cost more than most people’s tuition. He wasn't talking to anyone. He was just sitting there, his hands folded over his silver cane, staring straight at the stage.

When he saw me walk in, he didn't smile. He didn't wave. He just tilted his head slightly, acknowledging my presence like a king acknowledging a servant.

"Elena! You're up third," Dr. Aris said, hurrying over to me. He looked sweating and nervous. He leaned in and whispered, "Your father is very interested in the Vance Clinic data we discussed. I hope you haven't forgotten the importance of this morning."

"I haven't forgotten anything, Doctor," I said.
I sat in the second row, clutching my laptop. The first two presentations were a blur. One girl talked about kidney function. A boy talked about new types of bandages. My father didn't clap for either of them. He just checked his gold watch.

"Next up," Dr. Aris announced, his voice shaking a little. "Elena Vance. Presenting on... the Business Models of Private Clinics."

The room went quiet. I stood up. My legs felt like jelly, but I forced myself to walk to the podium. I plugged in my flash drive. I didn't look at my father. I looked at the back of the room, where Leo was standing by the door. He gave me a tiny nod.

I clicked the remote.

The giant screen behind me lit up. But it didn't show the Vance Global logo. It didn't show pictures of luxury hospital rooms.
It showed a black-and-white scan of a human brain. Specifically, a brain that had suffered a Grade 2 concussion.

I heard a sharp gasp from the front row. I finally looked at my father. His face was no longer calm. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were like chips of ice.

"Good morning," I said, my voice starting out low but getting stronger with every word. "My name is Elena Vance. Today, I am not here to talk about the business of medicine. I am here to talk about the science of survival."

I clicked to the next slide. It showed Jaxson’s recovery charts, the ones we had worked on in the library.

"For the last three months, I have been tracking the recovery of a high-impact athlete. I wanted to see if we could create a recovery plan that didn't require expensive, private drugs or luxury facilities. I wanted to see if science could serve everyone, not just the people with the right last name."

For the next twenty minutes, I didn't look at my notes. I talked about neurons. I talked about the physics of a hit on the ice. I talked about how the body heals when it's given the right care. I showed how my father’s luxury models actually slowed down recovery by focusing on comfort instead of biology.

The room was silent. Even the other professors were leaning forward, fascinated. It was a bold, risky, and brilliant piece of research.

When I finished, I clicked to the final slide. It was a simple quote: Medicine is a right, not a luxury.

"Thank you," I said.

The silence lasted for five long seconds. Then, slowly, the students in the back started to clap. Then the professors joined in. It wasn't a polite clap; it was real respect.

Except for my father. He didn't move.

"Are there any questions?" Dr. Aris asked, looking like he wanted to disappear.

My father stood up. He didn't wait for a microphone. His voice carried through the hall like a whip.

"I have a question," he said. "Elena, this research is based on a single subject. A hockey player with a history of... behavioral issues. How can you claim this is science when it is clearly a personal project for a boy you are infatuated with?"

The room went cold. It was a low blow. He was trying to shame me in front of my peers.

I took a deep breath. I didn't let my voice shake. "Science always starts with a single subject, Father. It starts with a problem that needs a solution. Whether I care about the subject is irrelevant. The data is here. The recovery is real. And if you’re questioning the science because of the person, then perhaps you’re the one being personal instead of professional."

A few students whispered, "Ooh."

My father’s face turned a deep shade of red. He gripped his cane so hard his knuckles turned white. "You are making a mistake, Elena. A very expensive mistake. I suggest you remember who is providing the resources for your education."

"I remember," I said, looking him right in the eye. "But you gave me those resources so I could learn to think. And I’ve learned. I’ve learned that I don't want to work for a company that puts a price tag on a heartbeat."