Kelly stood at the hospital payment window, her heart pounding in her chest. She handed her credit card to the clerk.
The clerk swiped it. The machine beeped. Declined.
The clerk swiped it again. Declined.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the clerk said, sliding the card back. "The account is frozen."
Kiley felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She looked at the line forming behind her. The pity in their eyes. She wanted to disappear.
"It's a mistake," Kiley said, her voice tight. "My husband... he must have..."
She trailed off. It wasn't a mistake. It was punishment.
This was given to her by Aiden when they got married. He said it was for her to save her life in case of an emergency, in addition to her daily expenses. Kelly has never used it in all these years.
Finally, the time to save their lives arrived, but he froze them with his own hands.
"Here." Camila stepped up beside her, pulling out her own black card. "Put it on this."
The clerk swiped it. Approved.
Camila wrapped an arm around Kiley's shoulder, guiding her away from the window. "He froze the cards?"
"He's trying to starve me out," Kiley said, the anger burning away the embarrassment. "He thinks if I can't pay for Jules's treatment, I'll come crawling back."
"He's wrong," Camila said. "I just got off the phone with Dr. Augustine Frye. He's the head of Pediatric Hematology at Mount Sinai. He's expecting you."
"Mount Sinai?" Kiley asked. "But we're here."
"This place is fine, but Sinai has the best research facility in the state," Camila said. "We're moving Jules. Now."
After a frantic morning of calls and string-pulling from Camila, the transfer was finally approved. By afternoon, Kiley was in the back of an ambulance, holding Jules's hand as the sirens wailed through Manhattan. The city lights streaked past the windows, a blur of gold and white.
At the same time, a black town car pulled up to the entrance of Mount Sinai Hospital. The rear door opened, and Albin Whitfield stepped out. He was tall, dressed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than a car. His face was a mask of cold control, his jaw set in a hard line.
Leo Chandler, his assistant, hurried to meet him. "Mr. Whitfield, your mother had a rough night. They've increased her medication."
Albin didn't slow his stride. "Is she conscious?"
"Barely," Leo said, struggling to keep up. "She keeps asking for Caleb."
Albin's step faltered for a fraction of a second, then resumed. "She needs to rest. Not dwell on the dead."
They walked through the sliding doors, the smell of antiseptic hitting them. Albin moved through the lobby like a shark through water, people instinctively moving out of his way.
Upstairs, Kiley was settling Jules into his new room. It was bigger, brighter. The nurses were efficient and kind. Dr. Frye came in, a tall man with silver hair and gentle eyes.
"We're going to take good care of him, Mrs. Frost," Dr. Frye said. "I've reviewed the tests. We need to start induction chemo immediately."
Kiley signed the forms, her hand shaking. She stepped out into the hallway to get some air, clutching the thick stack of medical records to her chest. She felt like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
She turned the corner, her eyes on the papers, not watching where she was going.
She slammed into something solid. The files slipped from her hands, scattering across the floor.
"I'm sorry," Kiley gasped, dropping to her knees to gather the papers.
Albin Whitfield stood there, looking down at her. He had been walking fast, his mind on his mother. He hadn't expected the collision.
He looked at the woman on the floor. She was wearing old sweats, her hair was a mess, and she smelled of stale coffee and hospital soap. But there was something else. A faint scent of cheap shampoo underneath the sterile smell.
He felt a strange prickle at the back of his neck. He ignored it.
"Watch where you're going," Albin said, his voice cold. He didn't offer to help her up.
Kiley looked up, a retort on her lips. She saw the expensive suit, the icy blue eyes, the hard jaw.
"Excuse me," Kiley said, her voice tight. She grabbed the last file and stood up.
Albin stepped around her, continuing down the hall. Leo followed, glancing back at Kiley with a slight frown.
"Who was that?" Leo asked quietly.
"Nobody," Albin said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just another careless person."
Kiley watched him go. A shiver ran down her spine. The scent of pine and something expensive lingered in the air. She shook her head. She didn't have time for weird encounters.
Albin walked into his mother's room. Cornelia Whitfield was sitting up in bed, her eyes red and puffy. In her lap, she held a worn leather fire helmet. Caleb's helmet.
"Mom," Albin said softly, his heart clenching. He walked over and gently took the helmet from her hands. "You need to sleep."
"He was so young, Albin," Cornelia whispered, tears streaming down her face. "My baby boy. He didn't deserve to die in that tower. He didn't even have a family yet. No wife, no children. His line just... ends."
Albin placed the helmet on the shelf and took his mother's frail hands. The guilt and the grief, always simmering just below the surface, threatened to choke him. Caleb had been the golden boy. The hero. And Albin was the one left behind to pick up the pieces.
"I'll take care of it, Mom," Albin said, his voice thick. "I'll make sure his memory lives on. I promise."
Down the hall, Kiley sat beside Jules's bed. The chemotherapy drip was attached to his arm, the poison slowly entering his veins to kill the worse poison inside him.
"Mommy," Jules whimpered, his eyes heavy. "Where's Daddy?"
Kelly gently stroked his head, a knife twisting in her heart. "Dad's busy, sweetheart. But I'm right here. I always have been。”
Jules fell asleep. Kiley pulled out her phone. A text from Camila glowed on the screen.
Got you a meeting with the top divorce lawyer in the city. Tomorrow morning. Don't be late.
He thinks this is a trap. It's toilet paper. See you in court.
Kiley put the phone down. She looked out the window at the Manhattan skyline. The city that had built her up was now trying to tear her down. But she wasn't going to let it. She was going to fight. For Jules. For their future.
