The red light above the emergency room doors glared like a warning.
Emaline sat on the hard plastic chair in the waiting room. She was staring blankly at the dried blood flaking off her fingers.
Leo was asleep, his head resting heavily on her shoulder.
Cullen was pacing near the vending machines. He had his phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low, but the tone was sharp and commanding. He did not sound like a project manager. He sounded like a king giving orders to his generals.
Emaline watched him. The fear in her chest was slowly making room for confusion.
Cullen hung up the phone and walked over to her. He crouched down so he was eye-level with her. He reached out and gently pried her fingers apart, stopping her from picking at her skin.
"Stop hurting yourself," Cullen said softly.
"The ER doctor said his lungs are collapsing," Emaline whispered, her voice hollow. "They said they might not be able to stop the bleeding."
"They are wrong," Cullen said flatly. "My friend is almost here."
Emaline let out a bitter, broken laugh. "Your friend? Cullen, this is Presbyterian. They have the best surgeons in New York. A friend is not going to fix this."
Before Cullen could answer, the double doors of the waiting room slammed open.
A tall, strikingly handsome man in a tailored suit and a white lab coat strode into the room. He moved with an air of absolute arrogance and brilliance. Two hospital administrators were practically jogging to keep up with him.
Cullen stood up.
The doctor walked straight to Cullen. They shook hands briefly.
"Where is he?" the doctor asked, his voice crisp.
"Trauma Room One," Cullen said, pointing down the hall.
The doctor nodded and pushed through the restricted doors without looking back.
Emaline stood up, accidentally waking Leo. She stared at the swinging doors in shock.
"Who was that?" she asked.
"Dr. Elisha Vinson," Cullen said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "He specializes in advanced thoracic trauma."
Emaline's jaw dropped. "Elisha Vinson? I have read about him. He runs a private clinic for billionaires. He does not do ER consults. How do you know him?"
Cullen's expression tightened. He looked down at the linoleum floor for a fraction of a second before meeting her gaze. "My old college roommate was Elisha's younger brother, who passed away," Cullen said, his voice dropping to a somber, quiet register. "Elisha always felt he owed our family a debt of gratitude for being there during that time. I have never called on him for anything, until today. I told him it was life or death."
Two agonizing hours passed.
Finally, the doors opened. Dr. Vinson walked out, pulling off his surgical cap.
Emaline ran to him, her heart in her throat.
"The bleeding is stopped," Dr. Vinson said smoothly. "We repaired the ruptured vessel. He is stable."
Emaline burst into tears of pure relief. She covered her face with her hands.
"However," Dr. Vinson continued, looking at Cullen. "He cannot stay here. He needs the hyperbaric chambers at my clinic to heal the lung tissue properly."
Emaline's relief vanished, replaced by a crushing weight.
"Your clinic?" Emaline choked out. "I cannot afford that. I signed a note for thirty thousand, but your clinic must cost hundreds of thousands."
"Do not worry about the cost, Ms. Finley," Dr. Vinson smiled politely.
Cullen stepped up behind Emaline. He placed a warm hand on the small of her back.
"I will handle the transfer fees," Cullen said.
Emaline spun around to face him. "No! I cannot owe you that much money. I will never be able to pay it back!"
Cullen looked down at her. His thumb brushed against the curve of her spine, sending a shiver through her body.
"You do not have to pay it back," Cullen said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur. "Consider it a dowry."
Emaline's breath hitched. Her eyes widened.
A dowry. He was talking about the marriage proposal. He was buying her father's life in exchange for her hand.
She looked at Dr. Vinson, who was pretending to read a chart, completely unfazed by the conversation.
Emaline looked back at Cullen. His dark eyes were waiting for her answer.
She swallowed hard. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay. Transfer him."
