The consultation room dropped into a suffocating hush.

Aydan snapped his head around, fury blazing in his eyes as he fixed Ximena with a hard stare.

Ximena returned the look with steady composure, her gaze cool and clinical, as though silently prompting him to answer.

After an agonizing stretch of silence, Aydan forced out the strained words, "I haven't had any."

"Really?" Ximena's voice lifted just a notch, carrying a flicker of curiosity.

As she made notes in the chart, she continued, "Extended periods of abstinence or intense psychological pressure can sometimes trigger functional complications. That said, Mr. Dixon, judging from today's assessment, your physical condition is outstanding, so there's no cause for unnecessary concern."

Aydan was rendered mute.

Outstanding… physical… condition?

Did this woman have any idea what she was saying?

Ximena finally pulled her hand away, peeled off her gloves, and dropped them neatly into the disposal bin.

"Alright, Mr. Dixon, the examination is finished. You may get dressed now." She pivoted back to her desk, picked up her pen, and began filling out the file with brisk precision.

That cool professionalism stung Aydan far more than any outright insult could have.

He hopped off the examination bed and dressed with unprecedented speed.

Once his clothes were in place, Aydan slipped back into his usual detached facade, though the tight set of his jaw and the gloom in his eyes exposed just how wretched he felt.

He told himself this ridiculous ordeal was finally at an end.

All he needed was that cursed report to placate Hugh, and then he could wipe this entire day—and the very existence of a doctor named Hayes—from his mind.

But Ximena's next statement dragged him straight back into misery.

"Mr. Dixon, your preliminary physical evaluation is complete." She paused, and then added, "However, based on palpation results and your subtle physiological responses, I suggest checking your serum testosterone levels and conducting a nerve conduction test."

Aydan's brows knitted tightly, impatience flaring. "What exactly are you implying?"

"In simpler terms," Ximena answered evenly, "there may be functional irregularities present."

"No way." Aydan shot back almost on reflex.

He had always carried unshakable confidence, whether in the boardroom or… elsewhere.

A lack of interest in women did not equate to an inability to perform sexually.

Ximena appeared to expect his reaction and chose not to debate him.

Instead, she slid a blank test request across the desk. "In the end, results speak louder than assumptions. Mr. Dixon, do you place your faith in intuition, or in empirical evidence?"

Aydan locked eyes with her unnervingly calm face, searching for the slightest crack in her certainty.

There was none.

Her expression remained firm, impartial, and clinical.

Aydan suddenly remembered the intermittent back aches and persistent fatigue he had brushed off as overwork…

Was it possible something was actually wrong?

After a brief struggle with himself, he seized the form and left the consultation room without a word.

Outside, Colby took one look at his boss's grim expression and felt a chill crawl up his spine, yet he still stepped forward. "Mr. Dixon, how did it go? Did everything proceed smoothly?"

Aydan flicked him a frigid glance, offered no reply, and marched straight toward the laboratory.

Colby watched his rigid, purposeful figure disappear down the corridor, his pulse racing.

That did not look like the aftermath of good news.

The following hour dragged on longer than any Aydan had ever endured.

Blood was drawn, time crawled by in the waiting area, and eventually the report was handed to him.

When he returned to Ximena's office with the results, his entire presence radiated icy restraint.

The room was empty of other patients.

Ximena appeared to be expecting him; her desk was immaculate save for his file.

Aydan slammed the report down, the motion charged with barely contained rage.

Ximena picked it up and reviewed it with meticulous focus.

Seconds slipped past.

Aydan studied her relentlessly, alert to every minute shift in her expression.

At last, Ximena placed the report aside and met his gaze. "As anticipated, Mr. Dixon, the findings indicate mild neurogenic erectile dysfunction."

Neurogenic… erectile dysfunction?

Despite bracing himself for bad news, the official diagnosis left Aydan's thoughts ringing hollow.

"The underlying factors are multifaceted—likely prolonged stress and excessive workload disrupting the neural pathways responsible for erectile function. The good news is that it's been identified early and remains mild, meaning it can be completely resolved through structured medication and physiotherapy."

With a grave look, Aydan asked hoarsely, "What's the treatment plan?"

"I'll prepare a comprehensive diagnostic summary along with a tailored treatment regimen." Ximena spoke while typing, the printer soon humming to life. "Dr. Barnes will supervise your follow-up care personally. He's a leading specialist in this area, so you can be confident in the outcome."

Jeff?

Aydan's eyebrows knitted together at once.

He understood all too well the influence Jeff carried, but the problem was that he didn't want this situation known to anyone—anyone at all—other than the woman standing in front of him.

The Dixon family's sprawling business world was tangled with hidden alliances and quiet rivalries, and as the designated successor, every step he took was watched, dissected, and judged.

This secret—one that struck directly at his pride as a man—could be seized by adversaries and used to destabilize his standing within Dixon Group if even the faintest hint escaped.

Under no circumstances could it reach the ears of the Dixon family's private medical staff.

Those physicians answered to the entire family, and there was no way to know where their loyalties truly lay. Confidentiality simply didn't exist with them.

That was precisely why Hugh had arranged for Aydan to see his trusted confidant in the first place.

And yet, his most humiliating and deeply personal truth had already been uncovered by this woman named Ximena.

Involving Jeff now would only multiply the danger.

More importantly, the full evaluation—from the initial checks to the final verdict—had been carried out by her alone.

To start over with another doctor who knew nothing, and endure that degrading ordeal once more?

The mere idea sent Aydan's anger surging dangerously close to eruption.

"These are for you." Ximena gathered several pages, along with the medical file and lab reports, slipped them into a manila folder, and passed it to him. "Mr. Dixon, everything is here. You can bring these to Dr. Barnes tomorrow."

After that, she glanced at her watch, rose from her seat, and shrugged out of her white coat.

"I'm done for the day." She lifted her bag, clearly intending to head out.

Aydan didn't reach for the folder on the table. Instead, he raised his eyes and locked them onto her. "You're not leaving."

Ximena halted, turning back with clear confusion in her expression. "Mr. Dixon, my shift is over."

"I said you're not leaving." Aydan stood, his tall frame radiating an oppressive force as he moved toward her.

The consultation room door slammed behind him, and he even turned the lock.

The already narrow room instantly filled with strain and hostility.

Ximena frowned. She had dealt with her fair share of difficult patients, but none who radiated such overwhelming dominance paired with such erratic conduct.

Folding her arms, she looked at him, impatience edging into her tone. "Mr. Dixon, what exactly are you doing? Unlawfully holding a doctor—do you realize what that implies?"

Aydan simply let out a cold laugh. He stopped directly in front of her, staring down with undisguised superiority. "You diagnosed me."

"And?" Ximena held his gaze steadily, without flinching.

Aydan lowered his voice, slow and resolute, as though delivering a final decree. "And you should also be the one who sees it through. You will handle my treatment."

Ximena scoffed at the sheer absurdity of it.

In all her years practicing medicine, she had never encountered a demand so domineering and unreasonable.

"Mr. Dixon, let me be clear—this is a hospital, not your corporation, and I do not work for you." She continued flatly, "My responsibility was to diagnose and file the report, and that task is finished. Your continued care will be overseen by Dr. Barnes, a specialist fully qualified for this case, which is the best possible arrangement. Now please step aside. I'm leaving."

"I said you're responsible," Aydan repeated stubbornly, completely disregarding her explanation.

He refused to let others dictate his outcome, and even more so, he refused to expose his weakness to yet another person.

Annoying as this woman was, at least the secret remained confined to her alone—for now.

"Dr. Hayes." Aydan's voice turned icy, threaded with quiet threat. "You might want to rethink this. Dixon Group happens to be the largest shareholder of Apex Medical Center. Assigning you to oversee my care, or ensuring you're unemployed by tomorrow—either option takes one phone call from me."

An unmistakable threat.

For most young doctors dependent on their position, those words would have inspired panic.

But Ximena merely regarded him in silence for a moment, and then calmly set her bag back on the desk and leaned against it once more.

Crossing her arms, she looked up at the man who believed power bent everything to his will.

"Aydan Dixon." She spoke his full name evenly. "First, using influence to bully others is childish. Second, I'm not only a physician—I'm also a specially appointed visiting professor here. If I were to leave, the loss wouldn't be mine—it would be the hospital's."

She paused, her eyes briefly tracing the rigidly handsome lines of his face.

Then she added without embellishment, "And at this moment, you're the one who needs me, not the reverse. If you want assistance, you should learn how to ask properly."

Aydan was stunned into silence.

A professor?

He stared at her remarkably young features, unable for a heartbeat to reconcile them with that title.

Also, her comment about manners struck him like a sharp slap.

He had never pleaded with anyone.

And yet, he had no rebuttal.

She was right.

He was the one who was unwell, and he was the one who required a physician capable of absolute discretion—and competence.

At present, this woman was his sole option, and unmistakably, his best one.

Aydan's breathing came hard and uneven, his logic and ego clashing violently inside his head.

At last, he shut his eyes, and when they opened again, the fury had been dragged down by sheer force of will.

"Your terms." He forced the words out between clenched teeth. "What do you want in exchange for treating me and keeping this buried for good?"

The impatience on Ximena's face vanished, replaced by sudden brightness.

She looked at him as though he were no longer merely a patient, but something far more profitable.

She moved back to her chair at once, folding her hands atop the desk, slipping neatly into the posture of a negotiator. "First, my time is extraordinarily precious. Private sessions will eat into my research hours, so my charges won't be modest."

Aydan's expression didn't change. "Say the number."

"Second, because of who you are, safeguarding your privacy puts added pressure and risk on me, which calls for further compensation."

Aydan's mouth twisted into a cold, derisive smile. "Spare me the buildup."

"The thing is…" Ximena leaned in slightly, her gaze gleaming. "My research team is currently underfunded—we're short by roughly… eighty million."

For a moment, Aydan questioned whether his ears had betrayed him.

He had dealt with blackmailers and outrageous demands before, but never one delivered with such polish and solemnity.

"Eighty million? Dr. Hayes, you've got some audacity asking for that much."

"Mr. Dixon, you're mistaken." Ximena met his probing stare calmly. "That figure covers my research funding, every future private treatment you'll need, and my lifelong commitment to confidentiality. A single, all-inclusive arrangement, no follow-up charges down the line. From a business standpoint, you should recognize how favorable that is."

She looked up at him, and then continued, "Naturally, you're free to decline and visit Dr. Barnes tomorrow or consult someone else. But remember, the wider a secret spreads, the harder it is to contain. Your name—and Dixon Group's share value—are certainly worth more than eighty million."

Aydan stared at her, his eyes burning.

She had struck exactly where it hurt the most.

After a prolonged silence, he finally said a single word, "Agreed."

"But…" He stepped closer, his commanding presence closing in on her again, "if I discover even the smallest leak from you—"

"Mr. Dixon, you may doubt my personality, but not my professional integrity." Ximena cut him off, already pulling out her phone and opening her notes app. "To protect both sides, I'll prepare a medical service contract and research donation agreement right away. Please give me your email address and your lawyer's contact details, and I'll forward the draft."

Watching her switch entirely into business mode made irritation coil in Aydan's chest.

In the end, he recited an email address and phone number, his face dark.

"Perfect." Ximena wrote them down swiftly, and then lifted her head with a practiced smile. "Now, Mr. Dixon, you may open the door. I need to get home."

Her clear eagerness to leave tightened his chest all over again.

Without a word, he turned and pulled the door open.

Outside, Colby was pacing restlessly. The moment the door swung wide, he hurried over. "Mr. Dixon, you—"

He stopped short as his employer, scowling, brushed past him like a sudden storm, heading straight for the elevator without sparing a glance.

Colby stood rooted in place, peeking into the room.

The strikingly beautiful doctor was calmly packing up her belongings, a faint trace of satisfaction on her face.

Colby was utterly baffled.

What in the world had happened in that room during the last hour?