The Great Medical Saint (Matthew) novel Chapter 897

Jerome's expression grew uneasy, his lips twitching into a forced smile. "Well, these are the rules. I'd like to help him, but the rules are what they are."

Matthew's patience snapped as he scoffed. "Oh, wonderful. Such excellent rules."

He had never encountered regulations more infuriating than these.

Jerome noticed Matthew's displeasure and began to worry. He needed Matthew's help—his entire future depended on it.

Life had already become unbearable. The past six months had felt like torture, though his bionic manhood barely allowed him to function and gave him a sense of normalcy, the pain was excruciating.

It wasn't just physical discomfort—it felt like sandpaper grinding against his nerves, an unrelenting torment that was stripping him of his humanity.

If Matthew refused to treat him, his future happiness would be nothing but a distant dream.

"Mr. Grant," Jerome said, pointing at Javier, who was still unconscious on the ground. "I've dealt with him, and I'll take care of his sister too. Since I've handled this matter, could you spare some time to treat me?"

Jerome's tone implied he was owed a favor, though he was merely cleaning up a mess created by his own staff.

Matthew's face remained expressionless, but his disdain was palpable. Nonetheless, he nodded coolly. "Fine, I'll treat you. The fee will be as we agreed last time."

Jerome's face lit up with a big smile. "Thank you so much! I've been waiting for you to agree. I'll transfer the payment right now."

Matthew pulled out his phone and displayed an account number. "Send it here."

Jerome quickly opened his banking app, entered the account number, and double-checked it against Matthew's display. Once he confirmed it was correct, he entered the agreed-upon sum—ten million dollars.

For a moment, the sheer string of zeros made him pause, and a pang of reluctance struck him. But the thought of a pain-free and fulfilling life outweighed his hesitation. With a deep breath, he pressed send.

Matthew waved off the offer. "No need."

But Jerome persisted, walking alongside him. "Mr. Grant, please, allow me to see you off. You've ensured my happiness for the rest of my life."

Matthew remained silent, striding toward his car. As he reached the door, Jerome anxiously asked, "If I have questions in the future, how can I reach you?"

"I left a contact on the prescription," Matthew replied nonchalantly. Without another word, he got into his car, started the engine, and drove off.

Jerome stood at the curb, waving farewell until the car vanished from sight.

Finally, unable to hold back his excitement, he pulled out the log book and flipped to the page. But as he read the words, his smile froze. His face turned ashen, the thrill fading from his expression as he took in the note.

"I've taught the treatment method to Tony Carling. But he doesn't have a medical license. Once you've secured the license, call Tony at…"