There was danger in that look.

“Let’s give them space,” suggested the Navy Commander-in-Chief.

Inside the medical bay, the bright white lights bounced off the metal instruments, creating a cold, sterile glow.

Brad stood tall in the center. He slowly removed his military jacket, revealing a black tactical vest underneath. His muscular body bore old battle scars, each telling its own story. A technician approached and began working quickly at the control panel as the system powered up.

“General, please lie down. We’re ready to begin. This system checks all bodily functions and flags any potential nerve-related risks.” The technician gestured with respect.

Brad didn’t say a word. He lay down on the table. A mechanical arm moved above him, attaching cold patches to his temples, wrists, and chest. He squinted slightly from the chill.

The machine beeped. The test had begun.

Data streamed across a holographic screen. Ronan stood beside it, pretending to focus. But his fingers secretly typed codes into a hidden console. Outside, Jaxon noticed Ronan’s sly actions. A faint smirk tugged at his lips.

Five minutes later, a buzzing sound signaled the end of the exam.

“The results…” Ronan’s face tightened as he read the report. His eyes flickered — just enough for anyone observant to know something was off.

The group quickly entered the bay. Candice stole a glance at Jaxon and noticed a brief, smug smile. It was clear this had all been part of his plan. But how had he convinced Ronan? She remembered how afraid Ronan was.

The Army Commander-in-Chief broke the silence. “Is something wrong with the report?”

Ronan hesitated, as if reluctant to speak.

Jaxon stepped in. “Don’t hold back. This is a military matter. No one will blame you — not even the General.”

Ronan exhaled, his tone heavy. “This was unexpected. General, your neurological health is far below standard. As per military regulations, you’re unfit to continue as a frontline commander.”

The Navy Commander-in-Chief’s face shifted. “Risk of neurological disease recurrence… Ninety percent? How is that possible? I thought it was under control?”

Ronan shook his head. “It seems the condition has built resistance. The medication isn’t working like it used to.”

The Army Commander-in-Chief looked grim. “If this is accurate, it’ll be impossible for you to oversee the oilfield operations. Time is critical — what’s the next step?”

Jaxon let out a theatrical sigh. “General, to maintain stability, you may have to step aside for now.”

The officers exchanged glances. Some looked sympathetic. Others seemed quietly relieved.

Brad slowly sat up, his cold gaze landing squarely on Ronan. “Are you sure this machine is reliable?”

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