The line went dead. Simon Vance had hung up.
Averie stood frozen in the hospital corridor, the phone still pressed to her ear, listening to the empty silence. Her arm dropped to her side, heavy and useless. All the strength, all the adrenaline that had propelled her here, drained out of her at once.
"Averie? What is it?" Brenda rushed over, her eyes wide with desperate hope. "What did Jarett say? Is the money coming?"
Averie couldn't speak. How could she tell her mother that her son-in-law, their supposed savior, was the one holding the executioner's axe?
She could only shake her head, her lips moving without a sound.
Brenda's face crumpled. The hope in her eyes curdled into a vicious, desperate anger. "What do you mean, no?" she cried, her voice rising to a frantic pitch. She grabbed Averie's arms, her grip tight and punishing. "What good was it, marrying that man! You have to do something! You can't even get money to save your own father! Call him again!"
People in the waiting area turned to stare. Their faces were a mixture of pity and contempt.
A stern-looking head nurse, her name tag reading 'Esposito,' marched over. "Ma'am, you need to be quiet! This is a hospital." She then turned her professional, impatient gaze on Averie. "Ms. Fletcher, Dr. Rosen is waiting. The surgical deposit must be paid within the next thirty minutes. Otherwise, we'll have no choice but to proceed with conservative treatment."
Conservative treatment. The words were a death sentence. A clinical, polite way of saying they would let her father die because they couldn't pay.
The deadline, her mother's accusations, Jarett's cruelty, the staring eyes of strangers-it all pressed down on her, a crushing, unbearable weight.
A buzzing started in her ears. The harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway began to spin, blurring into streaks of white. She reached out for the wall to steady herself, but her fingers met only air. Her body felt disconnected, a heavy thing she could no longer control.
She heard her mother scream her name, heard Nurse Esposito shout, "We need help over here! Someone's collapsed!"
The last conscious thought that flickered through her mind was the sound of Jarett's voice on the phone, soft and gentle, promising Candida he was on his way.
The irony was the final blow. Then, everything went black.
The sharp, antiseptic smell of disinfectant pulled her back to consciousness.
Averie's eyes fluttered open. She was on a gurney in a curtained-off alcove, an IV drip attached to the back of her hand. For a moment, she was disoriented. Then memory came rushing back in a sickening wave.
"My father!" she gasped, sitting bolt upright. "The surgery!"
A familiar face came into focus. Her best friend, Eleanor Finch, was sitting in a plastic chair beside the gurney, her expression etched with worry.
"Ellie? What are you doing here?"
"Your mom called me. I was so worried," Eleanor said, taking Averie's cold hand in her own.
Averie gripped her friend's hand, her voice frantic. "The money, Ellie? Did someone pay the money? How long was I out?"
Eleanor's face was a mask of sympathy and regret. That look was all the answer Averie needed. Her heart, which she thought couldn't possibly break any further, shattered into a million tiny pieces.
