A Wall Street Genius's Final Investment Playbook-Chapter 145

On the way to Philadelphia.

This time, instead of a train, I got into a luxury town car quietly driven by a chauffeur.

Lately, too many people had begun to recognize me, forcing me to spend everyday moments like impromptu fan meetings.

Whether I was walking down the street, standing in line for coffee, or even inside an elevator, people would greet me warmly and strike up conversations as if meeting an old friend.

It was difficult to cut them off or ignore them, especially since, in this life, I had taken on the persona of a "moral character"…

It was driving me crazy.

‘An unexpected side effect.’

As a result, listening to people’s chatter with a forced smile had become routine, slowly eating away at my time.

With that in mind, I had rented a car instead of taking the train, knowing full well that an entire train car would turn into an instant fan meeting.

Yet—

"You're incredible! Launching a fund in just one year… Honestly, when you said you'd set it up within two years, I didn’t believe it…"

Rachel was spilling out everything she had been holding back, rendering my travel time just as unproductive.

But this was different.

Rachel was on another level compared to passing strangers.

Spending time with her would undoubtedly pay off someday, giving me enough reason to respond to her with sincerity.

“I was lucky that things worked out well. By the way, Rachel, are you planning to stay with Goldman?”

I recalled how she had wanted to leave Goldman for a long time.

Back then, it was in my best interest for her to remain with the company, so I had persuaded her by saying that her experience there would help her achieve her dreams.

Surprisingly, my words from that time still seemed to influence her.

“Yes, I plan to complete my two-year contract. I think it’ll be beneficial when I run my gallery in the future.”

“I see.”

At her response, I quietly ran a cost-benefit analysis in my head.

If she stayed at Goldman, I would continue receiving firsthand information about the company.

Of course, since we belonged to different departments now, we wouldn’t meet as often as before.

But since we still had the Castleman Foundation as a common link, staying in touch wouldn’t be difficult.

In other words, there was no real downside for me.

"By the way, I promised to invest in your fund, remember? I was going to follow through, but my father told me he had already discussed something separately with you…”

Ah, she must be talking about that $500 million.

When Rachel joined the Castleman Foundation, she had signed a contract agreeing to invest $500 million in my fund as part of our alibi arrangement.

Upon learning about it, Raymond had tried to cover the amount himself.

But when he heard that breaking the contract would cost $50 billion, his expression had changed instantly.

‘$500 million… That’s about 650 billion won.’

Whether it was a daughter who could casually offer that amount or a father willing to pay it on her behalf, their family was equally detached from reality.

No matter how I looked at it, they were extraordinary.

“I’ll discuss that matter with him again.”

“And also… Lately, my mother has been asking about you, Sean.”

“That’s kind of her. It’s been a while since I last saw her—I hope she’s doing well. Oh, and how is Gerard?”

“Well…”

As expected, conversations with Rachel were always worthwhile.

The investment I could secure from her family alone was substantial, so I needed to maintain a good relationship with her moving forward.

While we engaged in what turned out to be a productive discussion, we eventually arrived at our destination.

The University of Pennsylvania Hospital.

As soon as I stepped into the lobby, people who recognized me showered me with greetings.

“Orca!”

“Oh my, I didn’t expect to see you here…”

The reaction was even more enthusiastic than from the general public.

Now that I looked closely, the medical staff’s eyes were filled with admiration and gratitude.

“Faulty medical equipment… I still can’t believe it. It’s such a relief that you exposed that fraud…”

“Is there any way to check if other devices are safe? We never expected something like this, so we’re a bit uneasy.”

For those who had trusted their equipment implicitly, this incident must have been a complete shock.

I addressed the medical staff in a calm voice.

“There’s no need to worry. The equipment used in hospitals has all been rigorously approved by the FDA. Theranos exploited a regulatory loophole, which is why it never made its way into hospitals.”

As I watched the tense expressions of doctors and nurses gradually relax, a familiar voice called out.

“You’ve become quite the celebrity.”

Turning my head, I saw David approaching with a smile.

We stepped into the elevator together.

It was time to meet the second Russian Roulette subject.

***

“My name is Dylan Hayes.”

A young Caucasian man, who appeared to be in his early twenties, lay in the hospital bed.

Was it because he was around the same age as David and me?

A strange feeling washed over me.

It was almost like looking at my past self.

However, Dylan’s surroundings were entirely different from mine back then.

His hospital room was overflowing with family and friends.

“Huh? No way…” ƒгeewёbnovel.com

“Orca? What are you doing here…”

Dylan’s acquaintances all recognized me instantly, their faces filled with shock.

They must have known about a benefactor, but they had never imagined it would be the most talked-about figure of the moment—Orca.

Dylan’s parents hurried over and grasped my hands tightly.

Their eyes glistened with tears.

“Thank you so much for covering his treatment expenses…”

Like Amelia, Dylan wasn’t an official clinical trial subject.

I had personally paid for his treatment out of my own pocket.

The official clinical trials wouldn’t start for another six weeks, but I had determined that Dylan couldn’t afford to wait that long.

However, I noticed a familiar look in the eyes of Dylan’s friends as they stared at me.

That eager glint of someone dying to spread a story.

If I left things as they were, news of another one of Orca’s good deeds would inevitably flood social media.

That wouldn’t do.

“Please keep it a secret that I covered the treatment costs.”

“Huh? But… why?”

I carefully continued my explanation.

“There are many people who currently see me in a positive light, but as time goes on, some will inevitably begin to dislike me. If those people find out about this, their first instinct will be to question my intentions. And if more and more people start suspecting ulterior motives behind everything I do… Then one day, I won’t be able to step in and help like I did today.”

After repeatedly urging them, I carefully examined Dylan's condition.

His "water balloon-like" symptoms weren't too severe.

His hands and feet were swollen, but the skin hadn't stretched yet.

His abdomen was noticeably distended, which suggested ascites.

The yellowing of the whites of his eyes was a sign of liver failure, and the shortness of breath and rattling sounds every time he spoke pointed to pulmonary edema.

‘He doesn’t seem in immediate danger, but…?’

According to what David had told me earlier, Dylan was in a critical state due to extremely low platelet levels, clotting disorders, persistent fever, and inflammation.

‘Is this a different type from mine?’

Honestly, that was the first thought that crossed my mind.

My mind automatically started calculating.

Would rapamycin be effective for this patient?

Or would he, like me, require a third treatment option?

Is he… David's Russian Roulette patient, or mine?

Either way, there was only one way to find the answer.

First, administer rapamycin and carefully monitor its effects.

However, there was one difference from Amelia's case.

If rapamycin doesn't work…

I would try the next bullet point on my list.

That meant pulling the trigger on something directly related to my life.

While I was running these calculations in my head, Rachel bent over Dylan’s bedside and continued explaining in a calm voice.

“The rapamycin you’re considering works by blocking the mTOR pathway, so it may stop the seizures caused by immune hyperactivation. But it’s an immunosuppressant, which increases the risk of infection. Dylan’s liver damage is already quite advanced, so there’s a higher risk of hepatotoxicity. If the hepatotoxicity worsens, it could lead to hepatic encephalopathy, which can impair brain function…”

As expected, Rachel's description of the side effects was overly specific.

And… that's something I would never say.

If it were me, I would have been monitoring the liver damage continuously, and only when signs of encephalopathy appeared, would I have mentioned it.

It might seem harsh, but that's the nature of medical treatment.

Any prescription can cause side effects, and if we refuse treatment out of fear of those side effects, we end up doing nothing at all.

Usually, the decision to begin treatment is made by the doctor.

It was strange to me to be presented with a list of potential side effects and given the option to choose before any signs had appeared.

Rachel continued her explanation.

“Rapamycin is still not a first-line treatment. There is theoretical support, but it hasn’t been fully proven clinically. So far, one person’s seizures have completely stopped with this treatment, but unfortunately, another person’s seizures stopped, only for them to die from inflammation, which was a side effect. It’s a fifty-fifty chance.”

Hearing that, I barely managed to suppress a furrow in my brow.

She was giving way too much information.

She had mentioned that only two people had tried this treatment, and one had even died from side effects.

“We believe this treatment has potential. But… this might be a dangerous belief born out of desperation. We want this to be the real solution. But there is no solid data yet. The results from patients like you are what will build the data.”

She even almost openly admitted that Dylan would become a mere data point.

The reason we were helping him was to gather that data.

“So, this decision isn’t about our hopes; it’s about you, Dylan. You need to decide whether to go through with it, knowing the risks.”

After hearing everything, Dylan asked cautiously.

“So, in the end, it’s a matter of either dying from seizures or dying from side effects, right?”

“That’s correct. But the evidence that this drug can stop seizures… so far, there are only two cases.”

“So, I’ll be the third.”

“Even that’s not certain. You might become the third case proving the efficacy of the drug… or you might become the first case proving that our theory was completely wrong.”

After hearing this, I started to wonder if it was the right decision to bring Rachel into this.

She was too honest… too much of a trigger for the patient’s fears.

Who would take the risk after hearing such a bleak assessment?

But…

That was just a thought I could afford to have because I was healthy at the moment.

Dylan made his decision.

“I’ll still give it a try.”

And he smiled.

“Let’s see if this damn drug can stop these seizures for real.”

***

We left Dylan’s room well past 11 PM. Having missed dinner, we headed to a nearby diner. As we waited for our food, a heavy silence settled over the table.

Rachel’s voice broke the silence.

“I plan to stay through the weekend. I think Dylan needs more time.”

Her eyes were filled with determination.

“A decision like this can’t be made overnight. He needs to be given the chance to change his mind.”

As always, Rachel offered thoughtful advice with the patient in mind.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

It seemed like I was the only one who felt uncomfortable.

‘But if he really changes his mind, it’ll be a problem…’

Still, I had no intention of staying here to persuade him.

This decision had to be Dylan’s alone.

I agreed on that point as well.

Once again, an odd silence filled the room.

But this time, it was Jessie who broke the quiet.

She wiped away the tears from her eyes and spoke.

“Why am I suddenly like this? I just feel so emotional…”

“Actually, I feel the same…”

Rachel’s voice was shaking as she responded.

The two of them wiped their eyes awkwardly and laughed, while even David nodded with moist eyes.

This wasn’t sadness or pity.

None of us were foolish enough to pity Dylan.

It was simply the smile Dylan had given when he made his decision.

Regardless of the outcome, his attitude in the face of death…

It left a deep impression on all of us.

But now wasn’t the time for sentimental reflections. Checking the time on my wrist, it was already 11:45 PM.

Considering the schedule for tomorrow, I needed to leave right after dinner. So, I turned to David and spoke.

“I’ll finalize the RP solution and equity contract within six weeks. The deadline isn’t an issue.”

“I see.”

“Has the clinical trial design been completed? Will this affect the current project?”

We had outsourced the clinical trial design to a professional company. Their expertise was necessary.

Typically, Phase 1 clinical trials are conducted with 20 to 80 patients, focusing on safety, tolerance, dosage, and pharmacokinetics.

Originally, we had planned to include 50 participants, but due to Dylan’s condition worsening, the number had been reduced to 49.

I was worried about how this change might affect the schedule.

“It won’t cause any major issues,” David replied.

“That’s a relief.”

Apparently, there were no issues.

I exhaled in relief and asked the next question.

“Do you know the expected total timeline?”

But then, I had a bad feeling.

It was just a simple question, but David’s expression subtly stiffened.

“Well…”