*Ten minutes earlier.*

NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital.

As soon as Strange pushed open the office door, he was met with a punch to the head.

Caught completely off guard, he groaned in pain, clutched his head, and stumbled backward, hitting the desk with a thud.

When he opened his eyes, he saw his younger brother, Victor, walking towards him with a menacing expression.

"Victor?!"

Strange, still holding his head, recognized his brother and felt his anger flare up instantly.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Yeah, I am. Look at you—cold-blooded as ever," Victor growled, his fists clenched as he took slow, deliberate steps toward Strange.

"If you were a decent person, you would've come rushing back the moment you heard Dad passed away. But no, you just said, 'I understand,' and hung up the phone."

Victor had called him the previous night to deliver the news of their father's death, but Strange had simply responded with a cold, "I got it," before ending the call.

Enraged by his brother's indifference, Victor had rushed from Philadelphia to New York overnight, determined to confront Strange.

Strange calmed himself, attempting to explain, "I was going to go—"

"But you had something more important than family to deal with, right?" Victor cut him off with a cold sneer.

Strange raised his hands defensively and said calmly, "Yes, I'm a doctor. You wouldn't understand. People's lives depend on me."

Victor wasn't buying his brother's justification. His expression remained cold. "You're right. I don't want to understand you. Because to me, you're just a cowardly fool."

"What?!"

"You may be called the 'Hand of God,' but deep down, you're terrified of failure, Doctor Strange."

Strange froze at his brother's accusation.

"It's easier to put on a white coat and play the hero than to stand before your family and face the reality of your own powerlessness," Victor spat, shaking his head in disgust before turning to leave.

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As Victor walked away, Strange was left standing there, struggling with a mixture of pain and guilt. Ever since he had become a successful doctor, his relationship with his family had grown increasingly distant.

With a loud bang, Strange slammed his fist onto the desk and began to breathe heavily. After a few deep breaths, he managed to calm down. Despite his anger, he didn't want to completely sever ties with his brother. So, he quickly composed himself, rushed out of the office, and chased after Victor.

At the entrance of the hospital, Strange grabbed Victor's shirt and said, "Hey, Victor, I'm sorry. I was going to come, but something happened."

"What's the point of saying that now? Dad's dead, Strange. Nothing you say will bring him back."

Victor shook his head in disappointment, pulled away from Strange, and stormed across the road. In his anger, he didn't notice the speeding car heading straight for him.

*Bang!*

The black Lexus slammed into Victor.

The panicked driver, frozen with fear, didn't even hit the brakes. The car swerved out of control and plowed into the nearby café, shattering the glass storefront with a deafening crash.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye.

Strange heard the sickening thud of the collision, and when he turned to look, his brother was lying motionless on the ground.

*Back to the present.*

Peter looked up, his gaze settling on Strange, who was stumbling toward them.

With a thud, Strange dropped to his knees beside his brother, his trembling hand reaching for Victor's face.

Gwen stood there, stunned by the tragic scene unfolding before her. She turned to Peter, silently asking for guidance on what to do.

Peter shook his head, indicating that there was nothing more she could do.

"No! No! Victor! Please, no! Don't leave me! Why? Why?!"

Strange's voice trembled with anguish as he held his brother's face, his body shaking as though gripped by a bitter cold.

"Why would God do this to me? Victor, it's my fault, please, don't leave me. Please!"

Gwen's heart ached at the sight of Strange's suffering. Although she didn't know him, it was clear that the man on the ground meant everything to him.

Taking a deep breath, Gwen spoke softly to Strange, "Sir, he's stopped breathing, but if we act now, there might still be a chance."

But Strange seemed deaf to her words, lost in a world of pain, guilt, and self-blame. He was completely paralyzed by his emotions, unable to hear anything around him.

"Sir, I need to administer first aid. Can you please move aside?"

Gwen repeated her request, but there was still no response from Strange.

Peter, observing the scene, furrowed his brow slightly. He had always known Doctor Strange as an arrogant man, but this glimpse into his past revealed something more. The man lying there must be his brother.

Watching a loved one die before your eyes could break even the strongest person.

"Peter?" Gwen asked again, her voice pleading as she struggled to convince Strange to move.

With a heavy sigh, Peter grabbed Strange by the shoulders and pulled him up. Without hesitation, he slapped him hard across the face.

*Smack!*

The loud slap echoed through the café, leaving Strange stunned. His ears buzzed, and he stared at Peter in shock.

"Doctor Strange, if you don't want him to die here, then stop lying on the ground crying like a coward."

Peter's sharp words cut through Strange's fog of despair. For a moment, Strange just stared at him, dazed. Then, as if waking from a nightmare, he slowly turned to look at Gwen, who was performing CPR on Victor.

Nodding rapidly, Strange finally snapped out of his trance. "Yes, yes, an ambulance! We need an ambulance. He's not dead yet. I'm a doctor—I can help!"

Strange broke free from Peter's grip and staggered toward his brother just as the ambulance from NewYork-Presbyterian arrived.

The paramedics quickly assessed Victor's condition and loaded him into the ambulance.

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