The hospital room was small and sterile white. Fluorescent lights hummed faintly overhead. The air smelled of disinfectant and something metallic. Machines blinked softly beside the bed. Wires trailed carefully across the sheets.
Brielle looked smaller than she should have in the oversized hospital bed. Her curls spread gently against the pillow. An oxygen line rested beneath her nose. A heart monitor traced green lines steadily across the screen.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Mia stood beside the bed, her arms folded tightly across her chest as though holding herself together. Her eyes never left Brielle's face. She looked peaceful… too peaceful.
Auntie Ann sat quietly in the chair beside the bed, her fingers gently stroking Brielle's hand.
The door opened softly.
Both women looked up immediately.
A doctor stepped in, holding a tablet in his hand.
His expression was careful, the kind doctors used when the news wasn't simple.
"Are you Brielle's guardian?" he asked.
"Yes," Mia replied quickly.
The doctor nodded and glanced at the screen.
"We've finished the tests."
Mia's fingers curled slightly.
"And?"
The doctor inhaled slowly.
"She has a congenital heart valve defect."
The words hung in the room like something heavy. Mia blinked once.
"What does that mean?" she asked quietly.
"It means one of the valves in her heart didn't form properly," the doctor explained. "Right now it's causing her heart to work harder than it should."
Auntie Ann's grip on Brielle's hand tightened.
"Can medication fix it?" Mia asked quickly.
The doctor shook his head.
"The best solution is surgery."
The word hit harder than the diagnosis. Surgery.
Mia swallowed slowly.
"And if she doesn't get it?" she asked.
The doctor hesitated.
"Her condition will continue to worsen."
Silence filled the room.
The machines continued their quiet rhythm.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Mia stared at the floor for a moment before forcing
her voice steady.
"How much?"
The doctor looked at the screen again.
"For the type of surgery she needs… she will have to be transferred to a more advanced cardiac center."
"Where?" Mia asked.
"New York City," the doctor said gently.
The words echoed inside her mind. New York City.
How much? Mia knew it was something beyond her.
"About four hundred thousand dollars," he said.
Mia's stomach dropped. Several hundred thousand.
Her fingers trembled slightly. Her rent was already overdue. She had just lost her job. And now this.
The doctor closed his tablet.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But the sooner the surgery is done, the better her chances."
He nodded politely before leaving the room. The door clicked shut behind him.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Mia laughed softly… a broken sound.
"What am I supposed to do?" she whispered.
Auntie Ann reached for her hand.
"We'll figure something out."
Mia shook her head slowly.
"I can't even pay rent," she murmured.
Her eyes drifted back to Brielle. Her voice creaked, her fingers were pale and fragile.
"Mummy…"
The weak voice made Mia's heart clench. Brielle's eyes were half open.
"Your face looks sad," she whispered.
Mia forced a smile immediately.
"I'm not sad, baby."
"You promise?" Brielle asked softly.
Mia swallowed.
"I promise."
Brielle smiled faintly before drifting back to sleep. Mia looked away quickly. Her chest tightened painfully.
She turned toward the window, gripping the curtain tightly.
"If Brielle dies…" Her voice broke. "I die."
—----
The penthouse occupied the entire top floor of the tower. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls framed the city like a living map.
The skyline pulsed beneath him, headlights threading through avenues like veins of light.
From this height, the city looked orderly. Predictable. Inside, everything was deliberate. Polished marble floors.
Low, neutral-toned furniture arranged with geometric precision. No clutter, no family photographs.
A grand piano stood near the windows, untouched. A single abstract painting dominated the far
wall… sharp lines, dark tones, controlled chaos trapped within a frame.
The space felt less like a home and more like a carefully constructed statement. Nothing in the penthouse suggested warmth.
Ethan sat on the sofa, long legs crossed, files spread neatly across the glass table before him.
He flipped through the documents with slow precision.
It was past 2 a.m., yet sleep refused to come. His phone vibrated against the table.
Caller ID: Aria.
He let it ring twice before answering. "Hey, E," her voice flowed through the line, soft and familiar.
"It's late, Aria. Why are you calling at this hour?"
"You sound cold," she replied lightly. "Don't tell me you don't want me to call you."
"Ari, I only said it's late."
"Did you miss me at all? Or have you been too busy fighting board members?"
He exhaled slowly. "I've been handling…"
"I saw the headlines," she continued. "They're speculating again. They always do."
"I told you not to interrupt when I'm speaking," he said, his tone turning slightly stern. Silence lingered.
"Ethy… I didn't mean it like that," she murmured.
He closed his eyes briefly.
"Don't let them pressure you," she added softly.
"You don't need anyone else beside you."
"I have my own way of handling it," he replied.
"I trust you, Black," she teased faintly. "That actually sounds good. Maybe I'll call you that from now on."
"Do whatever you like, Ari."
A pause.
"I'm irreplaceable, right?" she asked quietly.
"Focus on your studies," he answered evenly.
"I will. Goodnight, Ethy."
"Goodnight."
He dropped the phone onto the table.
"Wow. You finally lasted ten minutes on a call," a voice drawled from behind.
Ethan didn't turn. "I'm not in the mood for your commentary, Sebastian."
Sebastian walked in casually, dressed in sweatpants and a white singlet. "Relax. I come in peace."
"You have to deal with your phobia. The rumors are spreading like wildfire… all upcoming projects will be suspended for now if this continues," Sebastian said, dropping onto the couch.
He leaned back lazily.
"You know what they want, right?" he questioned.
Ethan remained silent.
"Optics," Sebastian continued. "A girlfriend. Public appearances. Something to shut the rumors down."
Ethan finally looked up.
"I'm not interested in relationships."
Sebastian shrugged. "Then fake one."
Ethan stared at him. Sebastian smirked.
"Relax. It happens all the time," he added
Silence stretched across the room.
Ethan leaned back slowly.
"Even if I consider it," he said calmly, "I won't date."
Sebastian tilted his head.
"Then what?"
Ethan's gaze shifted toward the city lights beyond the glass wall. His voice lowered slightly.
"I'll find someone."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow.
"Someone who doesn't want me."
Sebastian blinked. "Well," he said after a moment, "that might be the hardest thing in New York."