They call me reckless. Some whisper “corrupt.” Others, more poetic, say I’ve traded morality for ambition. Perhaps they’re right. But morality doesn’t keep the world spinning, money does. And progress? That requires far more than sentiment.

The board was adamant. "He's dangerous," they said. "Unstable. Unethical." I didn’t bother to argue. What they call unethical, I call effective.

Il Dottore, real name long since buried beneath layers of scandal, was once the golden boy of biomedical engineering. Now? A ghost, banished from the scientific community, left to rot in obscurity. All because he dared to do what others wouldn't. He didn't hesitate. He didn't flinch. He achieved.

I remember the first time I met him in person, tucked away in some decaying lab, surrounded by obsolete equipment and sharp, calculating silence. He didn’t thank me for the funding. He didn’t smile. He simply looked up at me with that fractured gleam in his eye and said, "How far am I allowed to go?"

I told him the truth: “As far as necessary.”

Now he’s halfway across the world, buried in snow and silence, surrounded by the sterile hum of machines I paid for and a research team too terrified to ask questions. The Antarctic outpost is far enough that no one stumbles too close, yet close enough for me to receive progress reports.

And the reports are promising. Unstable results, yes. Some…losses. But the data is accelerating at a rate no one else could achieve. I’ve seen the preliminary models. If his work is successful, we’re looking at breakthroughs in neuroplasticity, synthetic regeneration, even cryo-resuscitation. The implications? Limitless.

Of course, the press will scream when they find out. They always do. I’ll prepare the narrative. A necessary evil. A misunderstood genius. A miracle born in frost and blood.

Let them recoil in horror. Let them curse my name in their editorials. They’ll come crawling the moment they need what only Dottore can create.

I didn’t get where I am by playing it safe. And I certainly won’t build the future by fearing men like him.

Wealth is influence. Influence is control. And control, above all else, is power.