Not long after our business trip to the Imperial Capital, Anthony’s gastric ulcer developed into a perforation, and the company forced him to take medical leave.
It was to be expected. A grown man living on a few pecks of birdseed—nothing but fat-loss meals designed by nutritionists, so bland that even a dog would shake its head at them. It would be stranger if he didn't fall ill.
His campaign stalled before it had even begun; he lay dying in a high-end hospital suite, pounding his bed after the surgery and crying, "The heavens truly envy the talented! To have me fall at a time like this!"
Chapter 301