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

Mediterranean Sea, Sardinian waters.

The "Olympus" superyacht, resembling a floating white palace, sails slowly on the shimmering sea. This 120-meter-long behemoth, equipped with two helipads, a mini-submarine hangar, and an anti-missile defense system, is a toy that Victor commissioned for himself using the excess profits from the first quarter of "Apollo".

On the deck, an extremely luxurious feast is underway.

A champagne tower, taller than a person, was stacked high, each bottle a 1982 Dom Pérignon. Beluga caviar, flown in from the Caspian Sea, was casually spread like jam on gold-leaf biscuits. Supermodels in bikinis frolicked by the infinity pool, their laughter mingling with a live jazz band playing "Fly Me to the Moon," drifting in the warm Mediterranean evening breeze.

Victor, wearing an unbuttoned white linen shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up, stood by the teak railing on the upper deck, holding a wine glass, looking down at the crowd below like a king.

Among them were Wall Street’s most greedy hedge fund managers, the most powerful senators in Congress, and even a few impoverished nobles from European royal families, all groveling in an effort to become familiar faces in this circle.

Of course, there's also David Rossi, the hero who just "saved" the heart health of the American people.

At this moment, Rossi was sitting in a private, semi-open booth, his left arm around a young blonde woman, an expensive Cohiba Behike cigar between his fingers, his face flushed as he chatted and laughed with a partner from Goldman Sachs. His tie was loose, and his eyes were glazed and arrogant.

"Look at him," Victor said, pointing at Rossi. "Now, he thinks he's Caesar."

Sofia stood beside Victor, the sea breeze tousling her long hair.

“He certainly has the right to think that way,” Sophia said calmly. “Wat Pharmaceuticals just completed its acquisition of CVS Caremark, the third-largest pharmacy chain in the United States. The Justice Department’s antitrust investigation was able to pass entirely because of one sentence he said at the hearing: ‘To distribute life-saving drugs more efficiently, we need to consolidate the distribution channels.’”

“Yes,” Victor laughed, swirling his glass. “Vertical integration. From production to sales, we control every step. Now, whenever Fatty walks into a pharmacy, no matter what he originally intended to buy, he'll end up leaving with a bottle of Apollo. Because that's the only ‘recommended’ drug on the counter.”

"This is the aesthetics of monopoly."

Just then, Enzo strode over.

"Boss," Enzo whispered in Victor's ear, "this is a bit of a problem."

"On a day like this?" Victor frowned. "Don't tell me it's because we didn't have enough wine."

“It’s from Europe.” Enzo said gravely. “A review panel from the European Medicines Agency (EMA) seems dissatisfied with our report on the psychoactive side effects. The German chairman believes the conclusion of ‘self-limiting’ lacks long-term data support. They cited some case reports on ‘parasitic sensations’ and may refuse to approve Apollo for marketing in the EU.”

"Refuse?" Victor sneered, a cold glint in his eyes. "They're not refusing the medicine, they're refusing the money. Or maybe they think they don't have enough money."

He turned around and looked at Rossi in the private box.

"Go and call David here."

A few minutes later, David Rossi staggered over. He was clearly drunk, still holding a half-empty glass of whiskey, and his steps were unsteady.

"Hey Victor! This boat is awesome! I want to get one next time..."

"David," Victor interrupted him, "sober up. I have work for you."

"Work? Don't be like that, buddy, we're on vacation..."

Suddenly, Victor reached out and grabbed Rossi by the collar, pulling him closer. Their faces were only centimeters apart, and Rossi could even smell the faint scent of cologne on Victor.

“Listen, David. The Europeans are looking for trouble. They think Apollo will drive their people crazy.” Victor stared into Rossi’s eyes. “I need you flying to London tomorrow. As the FDA commissioner, go talk to those bureaucrats at the EMA.”

"Tell them that if they ban Apollo, it means they can only keep feeding their citizens Fen-Phen and keeping them at risk of heart valve failure. Ask them, which is more terrifying, heart failure or having an occasional nightmare?"

"Or, to be more direct," Victor released his grip, "tell them that if they don't approve, the U.S. will initiate 'special security reviews' on certain imported drugs from Europe, such as insulin from France or antibiotics from Germany. We'll choke them, just as they try to choke us."

Rossi shuddered, completely sober.

"This...this is a trade war," he stammered. "This will cause a diplomatic dispute."

“No, David. This isn’t war, this is business.” Victor patted his face. “Go, you’re America’s hero. Go teach those arrogant Europeans what ‘science’ is and what ‘necessary costs’ are.”

Rossi swallowed hard and nodded. He knew he had no choice. He turned and left, his back slightly hunched, the arrogance he had displayed moments before completely gone.

Victor watched his retreating figure, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

"Look, this is power. When you control fear, you control everything."

Suddenly, the sky brightened.

"Bang—bang—bang—"

Brilliant fireworks burst in the night sky, illuminating the dark sea as if it were daytime. Red, green, and gold fireworks resembled countless burning gems.

Cheers erupted from the crowd on deck, champagne was sprayed, and the music was deafening.

Victor raised his glass, towards the sea, towards this illusory prosperity.

"Cheers to foolish humanity."

"They always have to choose between two poisons that taste good. And we're just the waiters who serve the food."

Sofia looked at him, a complex light flashing in her eyes.

She watched the fireworks rise, bloom, and shine brilliantly before extinguishing in an instant, leaving only a faint smell of gunpowder and ashes drifting in the wind.

"Victor," she asked suddenly, "can you smell it?"

"What?"

"The smell of gunpowder." Sophia looked at the falling sparks, her voice soft. "Every feast eventually ends. The side effects of the bomb have only been delayed, not eliminated. The reports of 'ant-like sensations' and mental breakdowns are increasing. If one day, Apollo really does explode..."

Victor turned to look at her. His eyes reflected the afterglow of the fireworks, so bright it was almost blinding, yet unfathomable.

"Then let it explode."

He tilted his head back and drank the wine in his glass, then casually tossed the empty glass into the sea.

"We had already switched to a bigger ship long before it exploded."

"Come on, Sofia. Let's go check out our new tickets. The Swiss man is already waiting for us downstairs. He's brought a plan even crazier than Apollo—a business about 'immortality'."