**[WHITMORE MANSION - DINING ROOM - 7:30 PM]**
The silence in the dining room was heavy, broken only by the occasional clink of silverware against fine porcelain.
Richard Whitmore cut his steak meticulously, each movement precise and controlled. His wife, Margaret, pushed food around her plate without actually eating. And his son, Adrian, sat rigid, jaw tight, staring fixedly at the empty chair beside him.
Eloise's chair.
No one had broached the subject since dinner began. What was there to say? Eloise was in a coma. The doctors had no answers. And the other daughter—that *imposter*—had been expelled from the family.
Everything was falling apart, and all they could do was sit there and pretend normalcy.
The sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence.
"Mr. Whitmore," the butler—Harrison, who had served the family for twenty years—appeared in the dining room entrance, his posture impeccable as always. "I apologize for the interruption, but there's a young man at the gate requesting an audience."
Richard didn't look up from his plate. "Tell him to schedule through the office during business hours."
"He insisted it's urgent, sir. He says it's about Miss Eloise."
*That* made Richard pause, his fork freezing in mid-air. Slowly, he raised an eyebrow. "About Eloise?"
Adrian interjected, his voice tense. "It's that boy. Elias Chen. The one who brought Eloise back home a few weeks ago."
Richard's brow furrowed. "What does he want?"
"He didn't say, sir," Harrison replied. "Only that he needs to speak with the family."
Margaret finally spoke, her voice soft but firm. "Perhaps we should hear what he has to say. If it's about Eloise…"
Richard remained silent for a long moment, studying the wine in his glass. Finally, he sighed and nodded.
"Take him to the study. We'll be there shortly."
Harrison bowed. "Immediately, sir."
-----
**[WHITMORE STUDY - 7:45 PM]**
Richard Whitmore's study was exactly the kind of room designed to intimidate. Floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves lined with expensive books that had probably never been read. A massive dark wood desk dominating the center. Windows overlooking the meticulously maintained gardens. Every inch screamed power, wealth, control.
Richard sat behind his desk, fingers interlaced. Margaret stood near the window, arms crossed. Adrian positioned himself beside his father, posture defensive.
"Send him in," Richard said.
The door opened.
Elias Chen entered.
He didn't look impressive at first glance. Simple jeans, a slightly worn leather jacket, scuffed sneakers. Dark hair slightly messy, as if he'd run his fingers through it many times. Maybe early twenties. Absolutely nothing about his appearance suggested he was anyone important.
But there was something in his eyes—a quiet confidence, an intensity—that made people pay attention.
"Mr. Whitmore," Elias said, his voice steady. He nodded politely to Margaret. "Mrs. Whitmore." A briefer pause for Adrian, whom he clearly recognized but chose not to greet verbally.
"Mr. Chen," Richard said, his voice neutral. "I understand you requested this meeting. About my daughter."
"Yes," Elias said without hesitation. "I'm here to see Eloise."
Silence.
Adrian exploded first.
"Just because you brought her home *once* doesn't give you the right to demand *anything*!" He took a step forward, hands clenched into fists. "You already received a generous reward for your actions. There's no reason for you to—"
Richard raised his hand, cutting his son off mid-sentence.
Adrian fell silent, but his jaw remained tight, eyes burning with barely contained rage.
Richard studied Elias for a long moment. "The Whitmore family owes you a debt, Mr. Chen. That cannot be denied. You brought my daughter back when she was lost. Even though you've already received compensation… no amount of money can truly repay that."
He paused, his fingers drumming once on the desk.
"However," Richard continued, his voice hardening, "unfortunately, I cannot allow you to see her. Eloise isn't here. She's in the hospital."
Elias's eyes widened. He took a step forward, genuine shock crossing his face. "What? What happened? What happened to my Eloise?"
"*YOUR* ELOISE?!"
Adrian *exploded*.
He lunged forward, pointing an accusing finger at Elias. "HOW *DARE* you refer to her like that?! You're *nothing* to her! You're just some stranger who—"
"Adrian," Margaret said calmly. "That's enough."
Adrian froze, turning to look at his mother, incredulous. "But Mother, he—"
"*Enough*," she repeated, more firmly this time.
Adrian backed down, breathing heavily, but his hands remained clenched.
Margaret moved away from the window, taking a few steps toward Elias. Her expression was carefully neutral, but there was a tension around her eyes that betrayed her composure.
"Eloise fell down the stairs," Margaret said quietly. "Nearly two weeks ago. She's… in a coma."
The color drained from Elias's face.
"The doctors say there's nothing they can do," Margaret continued, her voice trembling slightly. "There are no serious injuries, no detectable brain damage. But she simply… won't wake up. They say we can only wait. Wait for her to wake naturally."
Silence weighed heavy in the room.
And then Elias spoke, his voice cutting with *arrogance*.
"That's nonsense."
All three Whitmores stared at him.
"They don't know anything," Elias said, his voice gaining strength. He took a step forward, eyes blazing with absolute conviction. "Modern doctors rely too much on machines, tests, technology. They don't understand the body's energy, the flow of vital force. But *I* understand."
He straightened, meeting Richard's eyes directly.
"Take me to her. I'll wake her in one day."
Absolute silence.
And then Adrian laughed—a loud, disbelieving laugh.
"You *cannot* be serious," Adrian said, looking at Elias as if he'd lost his mind. "You think you're better than professional *doctors*? That you can just waltz in and cure her when specialists have said there's nothing—"
"I *know* I can," Elias interrupted, his voice cold. "I'm not asking you to believe me. I'm telling you the truth. Let me treat her, and she'll wake."
Richard remained silent, his expression impenetrable. His fingers drummed slowly on the desk—once, twice, three times.
"And why," Richard said finally, "should we trust you? A young man with no medical credentials, no qualifications, making grandiose claims?"
"Because," Elias said simply, "you have nothing to lose."
Richard's jaw tightened.
"If I fail," Elias continued, "she remains exactly as she is now. But if I succeed… you get your daughter back."
Margaret took a step forward. "And if you… hurt her? If your 'treatment' makes things worse?"
Elias met her steadily. "I won't hurt her. You have my word."
"Your *word*," Adrian scoffed. "That doesn't mean—"
"It's worth trying," Margaret said suddenly.
Everyone turned to look at her.
She was staring at Elias, her eyes searching, analyzing. "What harm is there in trying? If he's so confident, if he truly believes he can help…"
"Margaret," Richard said quietly, a warning in his tone.
"She's our *daughter*, Richard," Margaret said, her voice breaking slightly. "She's been lying in that hospital bed for nearly two weeks and there's *nothing* we can do. If there's even a chance—even a small chance—that he might help…"
Richard remained silent, clearly struggling internally.
"However," Elias said, his voice cutting through the tension, "I have one condition."
Richard's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're making *demands*?"
"Not a demand," Elias said calmly. "A request. If I cure her—when I cure her—I want permission to visit Eloise regularly."
"*Absolutely not*," Adrian exploded. "You think you can just—"
"Why?" Margaret asked, ignoring her son. "Why does this matter to you?"
For the first time, something softened in Elias's expression. "Because she's special. When I met her… there was something about her. A kindness, a light. In the short time we spent together, she treated me like a human being, not like… something else."
He paused.
"I want to get to know her better. Properly. With your permission."
Richard and Margaret exchanged a long look—the kind of silent communication that came from decades of marriage.
Adrian looked like he was about to explode. "You *cannot* be considering—"
"I accept," Margaret said softly.
"*MOTHER*!" Adrian turned to her, horrified.
"I accept your conditions," Margaret repeated, more firmly. "Cure my daughter, and you may visit her. But," her voice hardened, "if you fail, if you hurt her, if you do *anything* that worsens her condition… you'll never come near our family again. Is that clear?"
Elias nodded. "Perfectly clear."
Richard finally spoke, his voice heavy. "My wife has spoken. If she trusts you, then… we'll proceed."
A wide smile spread across Elias's face—confident, almost arrogant, as if he'd never doubted the outcome.
"You have my word," Elias said. "I *will* wake Eloise."
Adrian was looking between his parents, absolutely incredulous. "Have you lost your minds? You're actually letting this… this *nobody* try to 'cure' Eloise with some 'vital force energy' nonsense?!"
"Yes," Margaret said simply. "We are."
Richard stood, extending his hand. "Tomorrow morning. Eight o'clock at St. Mary's Hospital. Don't be late."
Elias shook his hand firmly. "I won't disappoint you."
As Elias left the study, Adrian turned to his parents, hands gripping his hair.
"This is insane," he muttered. "This is *absolute insanity*."
Margaret moved to the window, watching Elias's figure disappear into the dark gardens.
"Perhaps," she said quietly. "But it's the first hope we've had in two weeks."
Richard returned to his chair, suddenly looking ten years older. "God help us if we're wrong."
But deep down, somewhere he didn't want to admit…
He was hoping.
-----