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Re:life chapter (6)
🕑 Added 2025-03-20 15:16:30 +0000 UTC**[Central Perk Coffeehouse]**
**[Monica's POV]**
Monica sank onto the couch next to Rachel, who was engrossed in her magazine. Rachel didn't even notice her arrival, and Monica let out a deep sigh.
But what was she even sighing about? Exasperation? Irritation? Pity? She couldn't quite figure it out. All that occupied her mind was whether Dan would be okay.
She had known her cousin since he was a kid, trailing after her with a book in his hands like a little duckling. He spent a lot of time at their house, especially when Nana traveled abroad.
Yet seeing him vulnerable for the first time felt like a splash of cold water—startling and jarring, forcing her to question how well she really knew her cousin. She had never seen him cry, not even at his parents' funeral. Back then, she hadn't thought much about it; she was a teenager, after all. But witnessing him genuinely smile while tearing up earlier had sparked unsettling doubts in her mind.
*"I've never seen him emotional,"* the thought surfaced as she reflected on their past memories.
Even that one time he was accidentally hit by a ball, all he said was "ouch," before throwing the ball back and hitting Ross square in the groin. She remembered laughing at Ross but hadn't considered the deeper implications of Dan's reaction.
*"Maybe I just chalked it up to his weirdness."*
She sighed again.
"Okay, Monica, what's wrong?" Rachel asked, pulling her back to reality.
"Um, it's nothing... Actually, I have a question for you." Monica hesitated, debating whether to share, but ultimately decided to open up.
"Okay, shoot," Rachel replied, shifting on the sofa to face her.
"You used to come to my house all the time when we were kids, so you know Daniel almost as well as I do, right?" Monica began, working up to her question.
"Yeah," Rachel said with a nod.
"So, I guess what I'm really asking is: Have you ever seen him emotional? I don't mean laughing or anything like that—I mean crying, depressed, or truly upset?" She looked at Rachel hopefully.
"Hmmm. Now that you mention it, I haven't really seen him like that. He always had a book in hand, either reading or writing," Rachel replied thoughtfully.
"Oh! Remember that time he slipped and fell while climbing down the stairs with his eyes glued to a book? He just got up, rubbed his knees a bit, and kept going. I remember you freaked out and almost knocked me over!"
"That's exactly what I'm talking about. I just realized this earlier when we were talking…" Monica started to recount the events to Rachel.
"Oh, honey. Don't worry about it. He's a guy and a doctor; that's normal. They don't process emotions like we do. They usually deal with it alone. Like my dad—he drinks and smokes to cope," Rachel said reassuringly.
"Are you sure? Because I'm starting to really worry about his mental health," Monica admitted, anxiety creeping into her voice.
"Don't stress; he's a guy. They're all emotionally clueless," Rachel replied with a playful grin.
"If you say so…" she replied, her voice trailing a little
"Anyway, where's Danial?" Rachel asked curiously
"Oh, he went to visit his parents. He said he might swing by later…" she replied a little distractedly but then she turned to her best friend and said " Danial told me what happened between him and Chandler and you wouldn't believe…"
——————
[ Danial's POV ]
Hufffff~ I exhaled slowly. The icy wind bit through my coat as I walked away from the cemetery, my breath fogging in the brittle air.
It had been a while since I visited my parents' grave, and I felt kind of refreshed.
Even though I know for a fact that my parents have already reincarnated, there's something therapeutic about the whole ceremony.
Just sitting there between their graves and telling them what happened in my life was enough for me to feel at peace with myself.
This might be the most I've talked to them since my last visit in '92.
Still, I've accomplished a lot since their death, haven't I?
I earned a PhD in Biochemistry before turning twelve, graduated from medical school at sixteen, and now I'm in my final year of surgical residency. I've published enough research papers and theories to push the medical field ten years ahead. And that's just academically…
My charity foundation is making real change in the world, especially with the money and drug patents I donated—non-opioid painkillers, antibiotics, anti-inflammatory drugs, a new diabetes drug, and immunity boosters.
*It feels good to save lives.*
Even though the last two are still in the final weeks of trials, I will know soon enough when they hit the market.
*Ring* *Ring*
The ringtone of my Nokia phone snapped me out of my thoughts. I took it out of my coat pocket and saw the name 'Lily' on the display.
"Daniel White," I answered.
"Daniel, hi! This is Lily. I just wanted to inform you that We received FDA approval for the new insulin drug, so our company's first production batch will hit the market in a month. Are you as excited as I am?" Lily's enthusiastic voice brought a smile to my face.
"So, they didn't try to delay the approval this time, huh?"
"No roadblocks and no last-minute hearings. They folded the second we CC'd *The Lancet* on the Brazil trial data. I think they just don't want a repeat of the *New York Times* exposé from the antibiotic rollout," Lily said, her tone sharp with satisfaction.
"Pfizer?" I asked, leaning against a brick wall to block the wind.
"Cease-and-desist at dawn. Same old playbook—'predatory pricing,' 'nonprofit fraud.' Jessica's shredding them as we speak. Their legal team keeps citing 'market destabilization,' but our contracts are airtight. Tiered pricing clauses, compulsory licensing for generics in low-income regions—every loophole's sealed. If they sue, the discovery process alone would expose their markup strategies. They'll back off."
"Good. Novo Nordisk?"
"Their stock dipped 6% at the opening bell. Our $35 price point is public now, and their CFO's panicking. Rumor is they're slashing U.S. prices to $75, but it's too late.
We've already partnered with Medicaid and the VA for bulk purchases. Their European division is scrambling to lobby the EU for import restrictions, but the charity's already filed compulsory licensing paperwork in India and South Africa. Generic production starts there in six weeks."
I nodded, though she couldn't see it. "And the contracts with distributors?"
"Ironclad. Every wholesaler signs a non-negotiable agreement: sell above our set price, and they owe the foundation triple the difference per unit, plus termination of supply. We've got auditors embedded in their sales teams. Same model as the antibiotics—no exceptions, even for private hospitals."
"Production volume?"
"Mumbai's first batch is 100,000 units shipping Monday. The Brazil plant's ramping up to 500,000 monthly by April. We're using the same subcontractors as the anti-inflammatories—strict NDAs, penalty clauses for delays. Raw materials are locked in: 90% of the insulin analogs are sourced through the foundation's deals with German manufacturers. No patent trolls this time."
"Cold-chain logistics?"
"FedEx handled the refrigerated airlift for the Brazil trial, so we're sticking with them. GPS-tracked packaging, temperature logs uploaded every hour. If a shipment deviates by half a degree, it gets flagged and replaced. We've got backup warehouses in Mexico City and Toronto to cover North America. No repeats of the Nairobi incident."
"Subsidies?"
"The foundation's royalty cut covers it—6% per unit sold goes into the subsidy pool. Uninsured patients pay max $7, same as last year's model.
We're replicating the antibiotic framework: hospitals apply for reimbursement through our portal, and we audit their records quarterly. Fraud penalties start at $2 million per violation. Even HMOs won't risk it."
"Good. What about the overseas regulators? Any pushback on the charity's licensing terms?"
"France tried to argue our 'humanitarian pricing' undermines their domestic producers. Jessica sent them the WHO access-to-medicine guidelines and threatened to publish their Pharma lobby's meeting transcripts. They backed down. Germany's playing nice since we're sourcing materials there. As for China… they're copying the formula already, but our deal with their Health Ministry guarantees a 12% royalty to the foundation. Better than nothing."
"And the PR campaign?"
"CNN's running the São Paulo trial photos 24/7—kids smiling, holding the injector pens. We've got op-eds ready in *JAMA* and *BMJ* highlighting the mortality rate drop in the trial cohort. Pfizer's stock took another hit this morning when we leaked the Kenya diabetes stats. Their CEO's press conference is at noon. Want me to release the Ghana cost-effectiveness data during his speech?"
"Do it. And remind Jessica to file the antitrust motion against Novo Nordisk in Denmark. Their price-fixing in Eastern Europe violates EU regulations. The fines alone could fund the next drug rollout."
"Already drafted. Oh, and the Brazilian Health Minister wants to meet you. They're naming a hospital wing after the foundation. Photo op?"
"Send Harrison from PR. I'm staying off the radar. How's the long-acting insulin looking?"
"Phase II trials wrap next month. Efficacy's 98% against the current market leader. We'll price it at $50, same structure. Oh, and the NIH called—again—asking for 'collaboration.' Jessica told them to bid for licensing like everyone else."
"Perfect. Keep the pipeline moving."
"Always. Anyway, that's all for now, boss. Go play doctor while I work. Bye!"
The line went dead. I slipped the phone back into my coat, my breath steadying. And I started thinking…
Every move the big players made was a stale rerun. Sue, lobby, smear—rinse and repeat. But they hadn't factored in the foundation's reach. Ten years of licensing patents through it had built a web of leverage: plus with the media partnerships every lawsuit turns into a PR nightmare for our opponents.
And the contracts—always the contracts. Penalties harsh enough to bankrupt middlemen who gouged prices, non-negotiable terms baked into every deal. The foundation's lawyers wrote the playbook, and now the industry had to play by it.
The wind picked up, slicing through the alley. I turned toward the subway, my mind already shifting to the evening's surgery rotation. The company could handle itself.
