The hallway of St. George's Hospital was painted in soft cream colors. A faint smell of antiseptic floated in the air, mixing with the scent of clean bedsheets and medicine. The walls were lined with wooden benches, and nurses moved up and down the hall like soft shadows, their white uniforms whispering as they walked.
Eric stood outside Room 207, his face tight with worry. His suit was a little crumpled from sitting for too long in the waiting area, but he didn't care. All his attention was fixed on the glass door before him, behind which Mr. Linton lay.
The soft sound of approaching footsteps made Eric turn. A middle-aged doctor in a white coat approached, holding a clipboard in one hand. His face was calm but serious, the kind of face that had delivered too many hard truths over the years.
"Mr. Eric," the doctor said, glancing down at the clipboard and then back up. "Can we have a word?"
Eric nodded quickly, stepping aside so they could speak privately by the side of the hallway.
The doctor cleared his throat, shifting the clipboard under his arm. "Mr. Linton is stable for now," he began, choosing his words carefully. "But his condition is not something we can ignore. His blood pressure was dangerously high when he was brought in. It triggered a hypertensive episode—something very close to a full heart attack."
Eric's heart tightened in his chest. "But... he'll be alright, won't he?"
The doctor gave a small, professional nod. "For now, yes. We've stabilized him. He's resting. But if he continues living the way he has been—throwing big events, putting himself under emotional stress, indulging without care—" He paused, looking Eric straight in the eye. "If he continues like this, he will collapse again. And next time, it may not be something we can fix."
Eric swallowed hard. "What do you mean exactly?"
The doctor sighed. "Heart failure. That's the plain truth. His heart won't take another heavy shock. He needs to slow down—drastically. Not just physically. Mentally too. Too much emotional excitement, too much anger, too much... lavishness. All of it wears him down."
Eric looked toward the room, his mind racing. "I... I understand. I'll speak to him."
"Please do," the doctor said softly. "Some patients listen better to their own people than to doctors."
Eric nodded, thanking the doctor. He waited for a moment, steadying himself, then turned toward the door. He took a deep breath and gently pushed it open.
The hospital room was peaceful. A small window let in golden strips of the afternoon sun. The walls were pale blue, and a small machine beeped softly beside the bed, measuring Mr. Linton's heart rate.
Mr. Linton lay on the bed, looking pale against the white pillows. His breathing was slow and steady. His once-powerful frame looked smaller now, hidden beneath the thin hospital blanket. His eyes were closed, deep in rest.
Eric walked quietly to the chair by the bed and sat down. For a few long minutes, he just watched his master sleep. His heart ached. Mr. Linton had always seemed larger than life—an unstoppable force. Seeing him like this made Eric's chest tighten with fear.
He bowed his head, whispering a small prayer under his breath.
Then, slowly, Mr. Linton stirred. His fingers twitched slightly against the sheets. His eyelids fluttered. Finally, he opened his eyes, blinking against the light.
At first, he seemed confused, staring at the ceiling.
Then he turned his head—and saw Eric.
A faint, tired smile touched Mr. Linton's lips. "Eric... you're here," he croaked, his voice rough from sleep and medication.
Eric smiled gently, standing up and leaning closer. "Of course, sir. I'm right here. How are you feeling?"
Mr. Linton shifted a little, grimacing as a slight pain moved through him. "Like I fought a bull and lost," he muttered dryly.
Eric chuckled softly, though the worry didn't leave his eyes. "You gave us quite a scare, sir."
Mr. Linton gave a small, raspy laugh. "Takes more than a little excitement to kill me, Eric."
Eric sat back down, folding his hands carefully on his lap. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Sir... I need to tell you what the doctor said."
Mr. Linton's eyes sharpened slightly, a flicker of alertness breaking through the tiredness.
Eric took a deep breath. "The doctor says you need to slow down, sir. Seriously. You can't keep living like this. The events, the stress, the spending... it's wearing you down. He said if it continues... one day..." Eric swallowed hard, "...you could collapse for good. Heart failure, he said."
There was a heavy silence.
Mr. Linton stared at the ceiling for a long moment, breathing slowly.
Then, with effort, he turned his head toward Eric, a glint of stubbornness in his eyes.
"Doctors," Mr. Linton said with a scoff, his voice gaining strength. "They always think they know everything."
Eric shook his head gently. "Sir, please. He's not wrong. You need to rest. You need to change."
Mr. Linton's lips twisted into a faint, amused smile. "Eric, these doctors... they don't understand the world. They think money kills a man. They think that gold is poison. But they're wrong."
He shifted again, sitting up slightly with Eric's help.
"Money doesn't kill you, Eric," Mr. Linton said, his voice stronger now. "Money makes you better. Money gives you power. Money gives you the will to live."
Eric looked down, troubled.
"But, sir," he said quietly, "what use is all the money in the world if you're not alive to spend it?"
Mr. Linton chuckled, deep and rumbling. "That's the difference between them and us, Eric. They think life is about surviving. We know life is about conquering. About leaving a name behind."
He lifted a trembling hand and tapped the side of his temple.
"My name, Eric. That's what matters. That's what must be remembered."
Eric sat in silence, feeling both pride and fear stirring inside him.
"But sir," Eric tried again, "your health—"
"My health," Linton interrupted firmly, "will follow my spirit. As long as I keep my spirit strong, my body will obey."
Eric wasn't sure if that was true. But he knew one thing: Mr. Linton Getty would never change. Not truly. Not deeply.
And that scared him.