Henry Syndrome Novels & Stories

Pinky stood up as soon as she heard what Henry said. "Mom.. what is he talking about?"she asked her mom who was already in standing up. "I don't know but base on what I find out,his father gave him condition before he could give out his blood"Henry replied, seeing the suprise look on her face. "Condition!!"she scoffed.. "I need to thank him before he leaves...mom, Henry please take me to him.. please" pinky groused as Henry and Kings riffed in there thoughts.

"Of course he is." She walked into the room. Henry was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in his suit. But the suit hung loosely on him now. He looked diminished. Shrunken. The "Titan of Industry" was just an old man with a trembling hand, trying to button his shirt. "Papa," Aurora said gently. "Let the nurse help you." "I can do it," Henry snapped. Then he winced, his hand flying to his chest. The sternum was still healing; every movement was a reminder of his mortality.

"No. I'm not helping. I don't get involved in the business between the Blood Curtains and the Aurora Shadows. Leave." Henry just turned seventy this year. On the East Coast, he was an eccentric old witch doctor with a mysterious bloodline and background. But when it came to treating chronic werewolf diseases, no one on the entire continent could compare to his methods. Back when I first found out that Gillian suffered from incurable migraines stemming from pack wars in her youth, I wanted to win her favor and get the Aurora Shadows pack to truly accept me. I went to great lengths to finally track him down in the old district.

Alex leans forward and asks in a firm tone, “You’ve been married twice, just like Olivia. Can you tell us more about that?” Henry doesn’t flinch at the question. Instead, he takes a deep breath before speaking up. “Yes, I’ve been married twice. My first wife was a wonderful woman, but she passed away from cancer. After some time, I remarried—not for love, but to help a woman in need. She had been in an abusive relationship and had a young son. Tragically, she also passed away a few years ago due to illness. I have two sons—one is my biological son, and the other is my stepson. We’re close, and I’ve done my best to support them.”

I answered the phone with my eyes still closed. "Hello?" My voice was hoarse from interrupted sleep, but I woke up instantly when I heard Ellaine's voice crying. "Atilla, I need you here..." she couldn't finish what she was saying and broke down completely. "Ellaine, what happened?" I kept calling her name, but she couldn't speak coherently, so Ram took over the call. "Henry had a seizure and needs to be taken to the US for a new operation," Ram explained. I felt my chest tighten with fear at what I heard, and I quickly dressed and had one of Henry's drivers take me back to the hospital. When I arrived, Henry was being prepared to be transported to the airport, where his private plane was wa

“Good day, Miss Shepherd. I'm Doctor Simpson, Henry's paediatric oncologist.” “Good day, Doctor,” I replied, as shook hands before gesturing to Nancy. “My best friend, Nancy Shepherd.” “Hello, Miss Shepherd.” The doctor said, shaking hands with Nancy who smiled. “Hello, Doctor Simpson.” “Please have your seats,” The doctor gestured to the chairs opposite her. “Thank you,” I replied. “So what's going on with Henry? Is he going to be okay?” Clasping her hands together, Doctor Simpson began. “Miss Roswell, based on the test results, we have discovered that Henry has chronic lymphocytic leukemia.”

Henry restrained her arms before she could struggle any more. “Don’t move.” His voice was calm but authoritative. Her arms felt too skinny in his palms. He gently took her hand and reattached the bandage that was holding the catheter in place. “Your blood vessels are very fine. The nurse had to try multiple times to set the IV. Don’t tear it out or you’ll have to go through that again.” The shift from predatory to thoughtful threw Monique for a loop. Did Henry have bipolar disorder? Monique glanced at the man beside her bed. His side profile was even more striking as his strong jaw and high cheekbones stood out. The man looked like a masterpiece.

Finally, he said, “I’m dying.” John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He gaped at Henry in shock for a long moment before he stammered, “I’m so… sorry. What is it? What have the doctors said?” Nervous laughter escaped Henry as he shrugged. “It’s all right. We are all dying. Like most things, I’m just more successful at it than others.” Clearly, John was not amused, so Henry cleared his throat again and continued. “I’ve visited quite a few doctors over the last year or so. No one is quite sure what it is, honestly. They haven’t found a growth or anything of the like. I have phases when I’m nearly myself, and then the symptoms come back. They are full of theories, but theories don’t keep a

"That’s not possible! Henry is A-type blood. The hospital records always showed him as A-type." "Could it be that the testing team made a mistake?"

Henry stumbled backward and hit the wall. He looked at the diagnosis in his hands, then back at me. Shock and despair flooded his eyes. "No, I can't have cancer! I'm healthy! I'm supposed to go to Malakor—" Before he could finish, he suddenly started coughing violently. He doubled over as he hacked until his chest tore with pain. Then, he spat out a mouthful of blood. Bright red liquid splattered across Sylvia's horrified face. "Henry!" she screamed. Clutching his chest, Henry slowly collapsed to the floor as he stared at me wide-eyed.