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Jallen tilted his head, eyes narrowing in quiet concentration, sensing an irregular movement where breath should have flowed freely—detecting hesitation, subtle resistance, something hidden where attention rarely settled.
The doctors questioned him gently, doubtful yet desperate, as he pointed precisely toward the curve of the throat—a shadowed spot difficult for cameras, examinations, and exhausted experts to clearly observe.
He was only ten years old, his clothes threadbare, his shoes worn through, clearly out of place among wealth, influence, and prestige—yet his focus never left the fragile life before him.
Eighteen doctors had failed this child despite their knowledge, technology, and global reputations, leaving a billionaire father devastated, powerless, and willing to give anything for a single answer.
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