Emily's Point of View
"No, no, no..." The words came out in a broken whisper as I staggered forward, my legs barely holding me up.
My phone slipped from my trembling fingers, clattering against the stone pathway.
I had to get to the hospital. Now. But how? I'd need to get to the bus station first, then catch a taxi from there to Saint Christopher Memorial. The thought of the time it would take made my chest constrict with panic.
My vision blurred with tears as I stumbled down the long driveway. Each step felt like wading through mud. My chest heaved with sobs I couldn't contain anymore.
Mom. Oh God, Mom.
What if I was too late? What if I never got to tell her I loved her one more time?
"Please," I whispered to no one, to anyone, to God if He was listening. "Please, not her too. I can't lose her too."
The crunch of tires on gravel cut through my panic. A sleek black car was pulling up the driveway, heading toward the mansion's entrance. The car slowed as it approached, and suddenly the driver's door flew open before it had even fully stopped.
A tall, distinguished man in an expensive suit stepped out quickly, his expression shifting from concern to alarm as he took in my tear-stained face.
"Miss Greene?" Charles Bennett's voice was urgent as he rushed toward me. "Emily, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"
I recognized him immediately, Victor's attorney, the man who'd sent me that cream-colored envelope six months ago.
I'd seen him around the mansion a few times during my shifts, always impeccably dressed, always professional. But now his polished composure was cracking as he took in my state.
I couldn't speak. My throat had closed up completely. I just stood there, shaking, tears streaming down my face, my whole body trembling.
"Emily, talk to me. What happened?" He stepped closer, his hands hovering uncertainly, clearly wanting to help but not sure how. "Do you need help?"
I tried to answer, tried to explain, but all that came out was a choked sob. My hands clutched at my chest, trying to hold myself together when everything inside was shattering.
"Hey, it's okay. Just breathe." His voice, gentle. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"
The words finally broke free, coming out in a desperate rush. "My mother. She collapsed. She's at the hospital. I need to get there. I need to..."
My voice cracked, and fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. "I need to get to the bus station, then catch a taxi. I don't know how long it will take. I don't..."
"Get in the car," Charles said immediately, already moving toward the passenger side to open the door for me. "I'll take you. Which hospital?"
"Saint Christopher Memorial Hospital," I managed, practically falling into the leather seat. "Please hurry."
Charles didn't waste a second. He slid behind the wheel, and the car surged forward, leaving Victor Hawthorne's mansion behind us.
I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, trying to think past the panic.
"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you so much."
"Don't mention it," Charles said, his voice kind. He glanced at me briefly before returning his attention to the road, driving faster than was probably safe. "Try to stay calm. I'm sure the doctors are taking good care of her."
I nodded, unable to form more words. My hands twisted in my lap, and all I could think about was Mom.
Charles's phone rang, the sound filling the quiet car. He answered it through the car's speaker system.
"Charles, where are you?" Victor's voice, cold and impatient, filled the car. "You said you'd be here by now. We need to discuss the board meeting next week and the concerns they've raised about..."
"Victor, I'm sorry, but I'm on my way to Saint Christopher Memorial Hospital," Charles interrupted carefully. "Emily's...Miss Greene's mother has collapsed. I'm taking her there now."
There was a pause. "I see." His tone shifted slightly, though I couldn't quite read it. "Keep me updated."
"Of course. I'll call you later."
The line went dead.
I stared at the dashboard, my hands clenched into fists. Even now, in the middle of my crisis, Victor Hawthorne was just... there. His presence looming over everything, his voice a reminder of the impossible choice he'd laid before me just moments ago.
Charles glanced at me. "Emily, I know this isn't the best time, but... Victor mentioned he spoke with you this morning."
I let out a bitter laugh. "He told you about his proposal?"
"He mentioned it, yes." Charles's voice was careful. "I understand you turned him down."
"Of course I turned him down," I said, my voice shaking. "What kind of person does he think I am? Selling myself like some kind of..."
I broke off, pressing my hand over my mouth.
"Victor isn't a bad man," Charles said quietly. "I know it might not seem that way right now, but he's going through a lot. The accident, the isolation, the pressure from the board... it's changed him. Made him more... calculating. But underneath all that, he's still decent."
"Are you worried because he's older than you and what people would say?" Charles asked carefully. "Because that's not really the issue here, is it?"
"No," I said firmly. "I don't care about his age. I care about being treated like a human being, not a business transaction."
"I know," Charles said. "And for what it's worth, I think he knows that too. He just... doesn't know how to connect anymore. Not after everything that's happened."
I turned to look out the window, watching the city in its beauty. "Right now, Mr. Bennett, I don't care about Victor Hawthorne or his problems. My focus is on my mother. That's all that matters."
"Of course. I understand." He paused. "But Emily, if you need anything, and I mean anything, I want you to know I'm here to help. Not as Victor's attorney, but as someone who... well, as someone who thinks you're doing an incredible job under impossible circumstances."
His kindness made my throat tight. "Thank you."
"I'm going to call Victor. Update him on the situation."
I nodded, too exhausted to care about Victor's feelings or reactions. When Saint Christopher Memorial Hospital finally came into view, I nearly sobbed with relief.
Mr. Bennett had barely pulled up to the emergency entrance before I was fumbling with the door handle.
"Emily, wait..." he called out, but I was already running.
The automatic doors whooshed open, and I burst into the emergency room, my eyes frantically scanning for someone, anyone, who could tell me where my mother was.
"Emily!" Mrs. Johnson's voice cut through the chaos. She was sitting in the waiting area, her kind face creased with worry. She stood and hurried over to me, pulling me into a tight hug. "Oh honey, I'm so glad you're here."
"Where is she?" I gasped against her shoulder. "Where's my mom? Is she..."
"The doctor is waiting to speak with a family member," Mrs. Johnson said quickly, pulling back to grip my shoulders. "Come on, I'll take you to him."
Behind me, I heard Charles enter the hospital, his phone already pressed to his ear. Our eyes met briefly, and he mouthed, "I'll be here," before stepping aside to make his call.
Mrs. Johnson guided me through the maze of corridors until we reached a small office. The nameplate on the door read "Dr. Alex Henderson."
"Miss Greene?" A doctor in pale blue scrubs stood from behind his desk, his expression serious. "I'm Dr. Alex."
I sank into the chair across from him on shaky legs. "How is she?"
Dr. Alex pulled up something on his computer screen, and my stomach sank at the grave look on his face. "Your mother's blood pressure spiked severely, causing damage to her neurological function. We've stabilized her for now, but she needs emergency care and treatment immediately."
Each word was a hammer blow. "What... what kind of treatment?"
"The spike appears to have been triggered by inconsistent medication management," he said gently, but I heard the implication underneath. "Her Alzheimer's is progressing more rapidly than we'd like. We need to start her on a new medication regimen, run comprehensive imaging, keep her hospitalized for observation, and arrange for ongoing neurological care."
"How much?" The question scraped out of my mouth.
Dr. Alex's expression grew even more somber. "Given that you don't have insurance that covers this level of care, we're looking at approximately twelve thousand dollars. That includes hospitalization, medication, imaging, and the initial treatment phase."
The room spun. Twelve thousand dollars. I didn't have twelve hundred after settling most of my bills. I barely had twelve.
"I understand this is overwhelming," Dr. Alex continued. "But Miss Greene, you need to act fast. Your mother's condition is serious. Without proper treatment, the damage could become irreversible."
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The walls were closing in, and all I could see was that number, $12,000.
"I... I need a moment," I managed, standing on legs that felt like water.
I stumbled out of the office and found Mrs. Johnson waiting, her face lined with concern. As soon as she saw my face, she pulled me into another hug.
"Oh Emily. Honey, what did he say?"
"Twelve thousand," I choked out. "They need twelve thousand dollars, and I don't have it. I don't have anything. Where am I going to get that kind of money?"
Mrs. Johnson held me tighter. "Listen to me. I don't have much, but I can give you five hundred. It's not a lot, but.."
"I can't take your money," I sobbed.
"You can and you will," she said firmly. "That's what family does."
I pulled back, wiping my eyes. "Mrs. Johnson, you should go home and rest. I can handle it from here. But... if you don't mind, could you help me take care of Lily until I get home? I don't know how long I'll be."
"Of course, honey. You know I will." She squeezed my hands. "You call me if you need anything, you hear? Anything at all."
After she left, Charles appeared, his phone call evidently finished. He took one look at me and quickly approached. "Emily? What did the doctor say?"
Through my tears, I told him everything. The blood pressure spike. The neurological damage. The twelve thousand dollars I didn't have.
Charles's expression. He gently took my arm and guided me to a quiet corner of the waiting area.
"Emily, listen to me," he said quietly. "I know you're scared and overwhelmed right now. But you have an option. Victor's offer..."
"No." The word came out sharper than I intended.
"Just hear me out," Charles pressed. "Victor can cover these medical expenses. All of them. Your mother would get the best care available. You wouldn't have to worry about..."
"I said no." I pulled away from him, wrapping my arms around myself. "I won't do it. I can't."
Charles studied me for a long moment. "What will you do, then?"
"I'll... I'll ask Victor for some time off. A few days to raise the money. I have people I can call, my old colleagues, friends..." Even as I said it, I knew how desperate it sounded.
"And if you can't raise it in time?"
I didn't have an answer for that.
Charles sighed, but to his credit, he didn't push. "Alright. I'll go talk to Victor. See what we can arrange."
"Thank you," I whispered.
After he left, I sank into one of the hard plastic chairs and pulled out my phone with trembling hands. Alone now, I began making calls.
One by one, I reached out to everyone I'd ever known. My former coworkers from the diner. The nurses I'd worked with at Riverside. Tom's old friends from the hospital who'd promised to stay in touch.
"I'm so sorry, Emily. I wish I could help, but with the kids' tuition..."
"Things are really tight right now. I can maybe spare fifty dollars?"
"I'd love to help, but I'm dealing with my own medical bills..."
Two hours. Two hours of hearing variations of the same apologetic refusals. By the end, I had promises of a few hundred dollars here, a hundred there. Nothing close to what I needed.
My phone rang, and Victor's name flashed on the screen. My hand shook as I answered.
"Miss Greene." His voice was formal, distant. "Charles informed me of your situation. I'm giving you three days off to handle your mother's care."
"Thank you," I managed. Then, swallowing my pride, "Mr. Hawthorne, I know this is asking a lot, but could I possibly get an advance on my salary? Just enough to..."
"I'll stop you there, Miss Greene." His tone was cool, businesslike. "I'm willing to help you, but only if you reconsider my proposal. Think about it. Your mother needs treatment now. I can provide that. All you have to do is say yes."
Anger flared hot in my chest. "So this is blackmail?"
"This is reality," he corrected. "You need money. I need a wife. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement."
"I'm not one of your business deals," I said, my voice breaking.
"No," he agreed. "You're not. Which is why I'm giving you a choice. Three days, Miss Greene. Use that time to consider your options. If you're not willing to accept my help on my terms, then I'm afraid I can't help you at all."
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone, tears streaming down my face. The empty waiting area seemed to close in around me.
"Three days," I whispered to myself. "Three days to find twelve thousand dollars or..."
I couldn't finish the sentence.
That evening, I dragged myself back to our apartment. Lily was with Mrs. Johnson, and I could hear her little voice through the door before I even knocked.
"Mommy!" She ran into my arms when Mrs. Johnson opened the door. "Is Grandma okay?"
I held her tight, letting her warmth steady me. "Grandma's getting the care she needs, baby."
"But is she going to be okay?" Her blue eyes were wide with worry.
"I'm going to make sure she is," I promised, even though I had no idea how.
That night, after I tucked Lily into bed, I sat at our small kitchen table and made more calls. I swallowed my pride and reached out to people I hadn't spoken to in years. I called my old supervisor at Riverside, who explained with genuine sympathy that they couldn't give loans to former employees.
I even called Josh, Tom's best friend who'd promised at the funeral that he'd always be there for us but had gradually faded from our lives. He sounded uncomfortable on the phone, full of excuses, but eventually promised to put five hundred dollars on his credit card for me.
"Thanks, Josh," I said quietly.
"I'm sorry I haven't been around more, Em. Tom would have wanted..."
"I know." I couldn't bear to hear what Tom would have wanted. Not now.