Page 90 of Ruthless Lullaby

Blyad!

I suppress my anger and rub my eyes as I take in Igor’s words. He makes a good point, but this is still a problem. A big one. If my clients can’t drink their booze while undergoing Tramoxine treatment, it means they simply won’t buy the medicine. They will choose their vodka instead of healing their fucking PTSD, their trauma, or whatever the fuck is plaguing their mind.

"And what happens if some dumbass decides to take a pill with a shot of vodka?" I ask Igor, my eyes narrowing.

"They'll be dead before they hit the ground," Igor replies bluntly. "That’s it, boss. Even a small amount of alcohol mixed with Tramoxine can be lethal. Saw it myself during the trials. Every mouse we tested with booze died."

"Cher Vozmi, Igor!"I curse. "That's bad fucking news.” I sigh and stop, in an attempt to regain my composure. “What if you take it without booze? Does it work as promised?" I ask.

An enthusiastic smile spreads across Igor's face, pride glinting in his eyes. "Better than we ever dreamed,pakhan," he says, gesturing to the data on the screen behind him. "The latest trials blew our minds, boss."

"Give me the details, then."

"Lots of improvement since our last conversation," Igor says, plunging into a long rant about various forms of data, numbers, and scientific jargon I don’t fully understand. I’m no scientist, but lucky for me, I don’t need to be. That’s why I pay Igor and his team as well as I do. By the time he gets to the end of his rant, my head is reeling from the information he dumped on me.

Alright, alright…” I gesture for him to stop his never-ending lecture. “Can you give me a summary of your findings in a few simple sentences?”

“Uh, sure. Sorry, boss, I’ll keep it short,” he says, holding up his hand defensively. “So, we ran a series of tests on people who have been suffering from severe insomnia for years. And believe it or not, they slept like babies after just a week’s treatment. What’s even better is that their symptoms have not come back since. This was two weeks ago."

"Perfect," I sneer. "I know a horde of desperate bastards who would sell their soul for a good night of sleep."

"You haven’t even heard the best part, boss," Igor continues. "We also tested Tramoxine on a group of war veterans, struggling with PTSD and alcoholism for years. Afterten days on Tramoxine, they were completely sober and their PTSD symptoms started to fade away."

“That’s something.” I pat him on the shoulder. My previous frustration about the alcohol issue is finally starting to dissipate. The results are better than I expected. Not just better, they’re great! "Have you tried Tramoxine on yourself, Igor?" I ask.

"Not yet," he answers then pauses. "But I did on my son, Misha. He's autistic. It's been a struggle since he was two years old, and now he's thirteen."

I look at Igor expectantly. "And?"

"The results are remarkable, boss. After taking the first pill, Misha slept through the night. No more shouting and jumping on the couch or waking up his siblings. Just peaceful sleep." My eyes widen in amazement as I listen to my chief scientist talk. This is indeed truly remarkable. "After less than a week, Misha made eye contact with us,” he continues. “It’s something he hadn’t done since birth. He’s been on the pill for less than two months...” he stops, and I see something glistening in the corner of his eyes. “And since then, his social skills have improved drastically. He plays with his siblings and is learning to be cooperative. It is safe to say that Tramoxine has rewired his brain."

Igor sniffs and pauses as if he’s contemplating his next words. "Sorry boss,” he says. “I don’t mean to make this personal but ever since Misha was born, my entire life has been about finding a treatment for autism," he says, his voice cracking. "And I want to thank you, for giving me an opportunity to do so."

I nod and his face quickly returns to its emotionless state. "As long as the dosage is correct and no alcohol is consumedwith it, Tramoxine will change everything. This is a game-changer, boss. A panacea drug that can heal the world. I can guarantee you that."

Excitement courses through my veins. This is fucking incredible. And not just because of the money I’m going to make. This is a chance to cement my legacy, to prove that thePakhanis more than just a ruthless criminal. With this substance, I can heal the world. Change lives. I can offer hope to the hopeless, all while making billions and ensuring my empire flourishes for generations ahead.

"We'll need airtight warnings, Igor," I muse, my mind already crafting the distribution plan. "Alcohol interactions, side effects, the whole nine yards. We cannot afford any accidental deaths."

Igor nods, his expression hardening with resolve. "I agree, boss. Safety is our top priority."

"Good," I tell him. "Great fucking job, Igor. Keep up the good work."

***

Sitting in a taxi on my way to the hotel, I dial Maurice's number. My fingers drum impatiently on the seat as I wait for him to pick up.

"Maron?" Maurice sounds kind of frazzled. Probably the hangover from the night before. "Look… I know we need to talk. But before you kick me out of the business and tell me to go fuckmyself, I want to say that I’m not proud of what happened last night. As for Mindy, I-”

“Save it,” I interrupt. “We’ll talk about that later.”

“Okay, but I-” he starts, but I cut him off again. I know exactly what he wants to say and I’m not interested in hearing it right now. It would only be a circular conversation that doesn’t lead anywhere. As for Mindy, it wouldn’t be any different. The whole discussion would be completely pointless and it would only add fuel to the fire. Besides, I have much more pressing matters on my mind right now.

“Stop, Maurice. This is not the time. I have something more urgent to talk to you about," I growl, my tone brooking no argument.

“More urgent? What is it?” He sounds surprised.

"I need your help with the Tramoxine launch. We're going live in three months, and I need everything to be perfect. You do this well and there will be a hefty salary for you at the end of it."

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