American Medicine God: Starting by Inheriting a Pharmaceutical Company and Selling Medicine

Boston General Hospital, Massachusetts, Emergency Room.

Spring has arrived, and the Charles River in Boston has thawed.

Under the operating lights, a young girl lay on the bed. She looked to be only in her early twenties and was wearing a sequined dress from a fashion show.

Her body was covered in scratches, left by her own frantic scratching when she was in a daze, with skin flakes and blood still under her fingernails.

"Sedatives! Increase the dosage!"

Emergency room doctor Marcus Wilby, drenched in sweat, tried to hold down the body, which was still convulsing violently even in her unconscious state. "Her body temperature is too high! She's practically burning up!"

"Heart rate 180! Blood pressure 200/110! She suddenly went crazy on the catwalk, screaming that bugs were biting her, and then..."

"I know! This is classic case of acute mental breakdown leading to physical exhaustion!" Marcus roared. "Ice packs! Physical cooling! We need to cool her brain down!"

However, it was all too late.

The wildly fluctuating curve on the monitor, after one last violent struggle, turned into a despairing straight line.

"drop--"

The girl stopped breathing. Her eyes remained wide open, her pupils dilated.

"Record the time of death: 2:15 AM." Marcus removed his mask, his voice hoarse. "Cause of death: Multiple organ failure due to malignant hyperthermia."

Just as the nurse was about to cover the body with a white sheet, Marcus suddenly noticed a small bottle fall out of the girl's handbag.

A blue bottle.

He bent down and picked it up. The bottle had a golden sun god emblem printed on it, with the words "Apollo" written below.

Marcus frowned. This was that diet pill that had recently become a sensation across the United States.

"Seal this up," he told the nurse. "And notify the family that I need to perform an autopsy."

"An autopsy?" The nurse paused, taken aback. "Doctor, she suffered a mental breakdown due to overwork, which is unusual for a model..."

“No.” Marcus shook his head, his eyes sharpening. “This isn’t normal. Those scratches, those hallucinations, that high fever… this isn’t a normal mental breakdown. This is poisoning.”

He paused, then uttered a terrifying word.

"Toxic psychosis caused by serotonin syndrome."

...

Three days later, at Boston General Hospital, in the pathology office.

Marcus looked at the autopsy report in his hand.

His intuition was correct. Extremely high concentrations of 5-HT2C receptor agonist metabolites were detected in the girl's blood. Moreover, brain slices showed abnormal neuronal firing patterns in the frontal lobe and limbic system.

This was not a "natural death" at all; it was a drug-induced mental breakdown that ultimately led to a fatal physiological collapse.

"Apollo..." Marcus gritted his teeth, staring at the blue bottle.

He picked up the phone, ready to call the FDA's adverse reaction reporting hotline. As a doctor with a conscience, he couldn't stand by and watch this poison continue to harm people.

However, just as his finger pressed the first number, the office door was pushed open.

Two men in black suits walked in. They were tall, expressionless, and carrying briefcases; they didn't look like family members of a patient.

"Dr. Marcus Wilby?" the leading man asked with a smile, though there was no smile in his eyes.

"Yes, that's me. Who are you?" Marcus put down the phone and looked at them warily.

"I'm Saul Goodman, the legal representative of Water Pharmaceuticals." The man placed a business card on the table. "We heard about an unfortunate medical incident that occurred here, involving our company's products."

"This wasn't medical malpractice," Marcus said coldly. "It was drug poisoning. Your drugs killed that girl."

Saul wasn't angry; instead, his smile widened. He pulled out a chair, sat down, opened his briefcase, and took out a thick document.

"Doctor, you can't speak carelessly. According to our information, that unfortunate lady suffered from long-term anorexia and depression, and had a history of drug abuse. She died from her underlying medical conditions, and it has nothing to do with 'Apollo'."

"I don't need the autopsy report!" Marcus slammed his hand on the documents on the table. "She was experiencing severe hallucinations before she died. She felt like she was being bitten by insects, and she even tried to tear her skin off! These are classic hallucinogenic reactions!"

"That's because she already has mental health issues," Saul shrugged. "Our investigation shows she's been taking antidepressants for a long time and has a family history of mental illness. Apollo just triggered her latent condition. And she takes five pills a day. Any psychiatric medication can cause problems if taken in excess, doctor."

"But this drug has severe neurotoxicity! She suffered irreversible brain damage before she died!"

Thor's smile vanished, and an oppressive atmosphere instantly filled the room.

"Doctor, you're a smart man. You should know that mental health issues are always subjective. How can you prove that the medication drove her insane, and not that she went insane on her own?"

"The truth will come to light!"

Saul said coldly, "We will sue you. We will sue you for misdiagnosis, for defamation, for misconduct during the resuscitation. We will hire the best legal team in the country and scrutinize every medical decision you make. We will drag this out for three to five years until your license is revoked, your savings are depleted, and your reputation is ruined."

Marcus was stunned. He was just a doctor, not a soldier.

"And the girl's family..." Saul continued, "we've reached a settlement with them. They signed a confidentiality agreement and received a... very substantial sum. If you were to come out now and say it was drug poisoning, do you think the family would thank you, or resent you for cutting off their source of income?"

Marcus felt a chill rise from the soles of his feet.

"You...you are buying lives."

"We're solving a problem." Saul stood up, straightened his suit, and said, "In this world, some things happen, and that's it. There's no point in investigating the reasons; what matters is how to make life better for the living."

He pointed to the autopsy report on the table.

"Burn it, Doctor. Or lock it in a safe and never let it see the light of day again. That's better for everyone."

After saying that, the two men in black turned and left the office.

Marcus slumped into his chair, staring at the autopsy report. The sun was still shining brightly outside, but he felt like he was in hell.

After a long while, he picked up the blue medicine bottle and looked at the sun god symbol on it.

Apollo, the god of light.

What an ironic name.

......

The president's office at Water Pharmaceuticals.

Victor stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, listening to Saul's report.

"Is it cleaned up?"

"All cleaned up, boss." Saul's relaxed voice came from the other end of the phone. "That doctor was a coward; he backed down after a few scare tactics. The family gave us a million dollars and signed the strictest confidentiality agreement. Legally, that girl's death is now classified as 'sudden cardiac death,' and has nothing to do with anyone else."

"Very good." Victor hung up the phone.

He looked out the window at the sky. Although he had solved one problem, he knew this was just the beginning.

The first drop of blood has already been shed.

As the number of people taking "Apollo" grows exponentially, similar cases will only increase. The truth will eventually come out.

"Sophia," he called out without turning his head.

"Activate Plan B. Since side effects are unavoidable, we need to find a 'scapegoat.' Compile a list of those black market clinics. If something serious happens in the future, we can say they sold counterfeit drugs, or that patients didn't follow medical advice and took medication haphazardly."

"We want to pin all the blame on the word 'abuse'."

"Understood." Sophia noted down the instructions. "And... what about David Rossi?"

"Keep inviting him to dinner." Victor turned around, a deep, unfathomable smile playing on his lips. "But this time, it's not just about dinner. We need to make him understand who gave him his current position as bureau chief."

"He's not just our protector; he's a 'God' we created ourselves. We bought his soul when he was just a down-on-his-luck investigator. Now, it's time for him to pay the interest."

"He has no way out. Just like this drug, once you start, you can't stop."