Dr Harrison Wells Novels & Stories

I replied, my voice quieter now. I had barely stepped out of the council chamber when my phone buzzed in my pocket. My fingers closed around it, and I sighed, my thoughts still tangled in the aftermath of my decision. I wasn’t in the mood for interruptions, but the word “urgent” flashed on the screen, and something in my gut twisted. “Alpha Marcellus speaking,” I said briskly as I pressed the phone to my ear. “Alpha, this is Doctor Williams from Crestwood General Hospital.” The voice on the other end was steady, but there was an unmistakable edge of tension. “I’m calling regarding Mr. Theodore Harrison.”

Tyler said the name of Xander’s doctor. Harrison shot Tyler a hostile look. “Was I speaking to you?” “Harrison,” I gasped, and he turned his head towards me. “I actually don’t know Xander’s doctor’s name,” I confessed. “I got so flustered and terrified that I didn’t know what to do.” As Harrison took my hand, Tyler suddenly slapped it. “I thought I spotted a mosquito,” Tyler chimed in. “My hospital is clean, and I don’t let mosquitoes in,” Harrison said. “Looks like one managed to slip past, though.” He looked at me again and stated, “I’m going to call Dr. Enriquez now.”

The morning sun gradually cast its golden rays across the Harris household, filling the air with another height of fear - nobody had slept the previous night due to Desmond's condition, he had talked non-stop throughout the night . As a result, Mr Harris, had arranged for a psychiatrist to visit their home. As the doorbell echoed through the house, Mr Harris opened the door to welcome Dr Wilson, a renowned psychiatrist known for his compassionate approach and broad experience in the field of mental health. Dr Wilson radiated a calm and reassuring presence, which instantly put Mr Harris at ease.

Martin said, "I'm calling because I have something new for you." The tone in his voice made her sit upright. "What kind of something?" "The expensive kind." "Now you've got my attention." "The Harrison Estate." Elara frowned. The name sounded familiar. Then it clicked. Robert Harrison. Technology billionaire. Investor. Philanthropist. The man currently dominating every news channel in America. Three days earlier his helicopter had crashed into the Pacific Ocean. The wreckage had been recovered. His body had not. The media called it a tragedy. Conspiracy theorists called it murder.

Kelly entered the hall with a foreign man at her side. The moment they stepped in, the crowd swarmed around them. "My goodness! Isn't that Harry Wells? The one they call Maestro Warner's rightful successor!" "Harry Wells? You mean the child prodigy who stunned the world at five years old?" "Ahhh! Harry Wells is my idol! He's only thirty-five and already at the pinnacle of his career. By the time he reaches Maestro Warner's age, his status will be untouchable!"

He looked confused when he saw the police officers. "What's going on here?" he asked. "Dr. Wells," Officer Martinez said. "We need to ask you some questions." "Questions about what?" Blake smiled. "About your relationship with my wife." Harrison looked at me, then at Blake. "I don't understand." "Are you having an affair with Mrs. Rhodes?" Officer Johnson asked. "No!" Harrison said quickly. "I'm her doctor. I was checking on her because her mother died." "Then why were you holding her?" Blake asked. "Why were you at her mother's apartment?"

Doctor Harrison stepped forward, extending his hand for a handshake. "I'm Doctor Michael Harrison. I own the Harrison Stroke and Rehabilitation Center." Ramon stared down at the man's outstretched hand. His pupils tightened. He wanted to ignore him, but the man was elderly, and he had also heard of Doctor Harrison's center. Ramon had learned about it while looking for a specialist for Tony. "I'm Ramon Holloway," he managed to respond through clenched teeth as he shook his hand. They had barely released their handshake when Dimitri's voice cut through.

he finally said. My chest tightened. “That doesn’t narrow it down.” A faint breath of something almost like humor left him, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “The attending doctor from Natalie’s case…” I straightened slightly. “What about him?” “He’s alive.” The words hung in the air, for a second, I thought I had misheard him. “What?” “He’s not dead,” Harrison repeated, his voice steady. “He’s been missing.” My pulse quickened. “Missing? For how long?”

His expression was strange—not sad exactly, but troubled in a way that made my stomach clench. "Smith family?" His voice carried weight. "And Miss Jennings?" We all stood at once, a collective movement of anxiety and exhausted hope. "I'm Dr. Harrison, a family friend." He glanced at Steve who nodded in recognition. "I've taken over reviewing the test results and I need to speak with all of you. In private." He led us to a small consultation room with a table and chairs that felt too much like an interrogation space. We filed in silently, settling into seats with the careful movements of people bracing for bad news.