Page 59 of Ruthless Serenade

The room falls silent, then erupts into excited chatter. It’s clear that I’ve hooked them, line and sinker. But as the excitement reaches its peak, a throat-clearing sound cuts through the conversation. All eyes turn to Dr. Yuri Volkov. The man looks distinctly uncomfortable.

"Mr. Korolev," he begins, his voice hesitant, "while our financial success is undeniable, it seems that we’ve encountered some… issues."

I feel my jaw tighten. "Please elaborate, Dr. Volkov."

Volkov adjusts his glasses, avoiding eye contact. "There have been reports of adverse effects in a small patient group."

I frown. "Can you be more specific? What effects?"

He takes a deep breath and adjusts his glasses again. Sweat breaks out on his temple, and his hands are shaking slightly. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the man’s afraid. "Well… two cases of severe liver damage, three kidney failures, and…" He looks up over his glasses, "some fatalities, sir."

The room goes silent in an instant. I lean forward, my heart rate picking up slightly.

“Fatalities?” I ask, keeping my voice level. “How many are we talking about?”

“Three, confirmed,” he replies quietly, sliding a report across the table. “And four more patients with severe organ damage. Their prognosis is… not optimistic.”

Blyad.

This is not good.

I review the pages, the numbers jumping out at me like accusations. Three deaths. Four people with organ damage. Which is fucking concerning, yes. But in the broader context… what is the broader context? Have these cases been investigated? Have they consulted their doctor before taking the medication? Could they have been under the influence of alcohol when they took the pills?

"Dr. Volkov," I say, injecting calm confidence into my tone, "while any death is regrettable, we must look at the bigger picture. Do we have solid evidence that Tramoxine is directly responsible for these incidents? Could any other substance be involved? Many of our patients have complex medical histories. Correlation does not equal causation. Furthermore, how many patients are undergoing Tramoxine treatment right now?"

He consults his notes. "Approximately four-point-three million, Mr. Korolev."

I turn to address the board. "You heard it gentlemen, four-point-three million patients actively taking Tramoxine as we speak. And while these reports are concerning, we don’t even know if these incidents are linked to the pill."

The board members exchange glances and I can practically see the wheels turning in their heads.

Dr. Volkov opens his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. "We must immediately investigate these cases, of course. But as of yet, I see no reason to alter our plans for expansion."

I stop speaking and lock my eyes on Dr. Volkov. The poor bastard looks like he’s about to piss himself, but he’s not backing down.

"Mr. Korolev," he begins, his voice trembling but determined, "with all due respect, we can’t simply brush this off. It’s not just about the numbers, sir. While the direct cause of these deaths has not been confirmed yet, we can’t afford to take any risks. Imagine how this could affect our reputation. It is our responsibility-"

"Responsibility?" I snarl, slamming my hand on the table. Volkov flinches, but I don’t give a shit. "Our responsibility is to the millions who depend on Tramoxine for its various benefits. You want to take that away based on what? A hunch?"

Volkov’s face is pale and I can see the fight drain out of his eyes. He slumps back in his chair, defeated.

"That’s what I thought," I say, straightening up. "Yes, we will investigate these cases, but I won’t let that alter our expansion plans."

The tension in the room slowly dissipates, replaced by the rustle of papers and the scraping of chairs as the board members prepare to leave. I’ve won this round, but somehow, my victory feels hollow. I must take matters into my own hands and dig up the truth about those deaths.

As the board members file out, their chatter fading like background noise, Igor comes up to me.

"Pakhan, we need to talk." His voice is low but firm. "In private." His jaw is set in a way that tells me this isn’t going tobe a pleasant conversation. He jerks his head toward a secluded corner, and I quietly follow.

"What is it, Igor?" I growl once we’re out of earshot. "What’s got you looking like you’ve seen a ghost?"

Igor runs a hand through his hair, a habit I’ve come to recognize as his tell for bad news. "Listen,pakhan, I'll just give it to you straight. Volkov’s right."

I stare at him. "What the fuck do you mean Igor?"

"Astoasium. The magic bullet in Tramoxine, besides its psychoactive components. The FDA pulled it. Made it illegal."

The words hit me like a slug to the chest. "Are you fucking kidding me? When?"

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