The doctor left behind at the restaurant scrambled to find transportation, his face pale with urgency.
Rage boiled through me. I raised my phone to snap a picture—evidence to force Anthony's eyes open.
Before I could focus, a heavy boot slammed down. A security guard snatched the device and crushed it under his heel.
"Mr. Sanchez's orders," he growled. "No photos. No videos. Unless you want to make an enemy of the Sanchez Group."
He turned to the crowd. "Cooperate, and all bills today are twenty percent off."
The diners complied instantly, heads bowing as they deleted the evidence.
I retrieved my phone from the asphalt—screen shattered, display dead.
The second ambulance finally screamed to a halt. I climbed in, clutching my father-in-law's hand as we sped toward Mercy General.
"Acute myocardial infarction," the doctor shouted over the siren. "Critical. She needs immediate surgery."
Beside me, my father-in-law stirred. Hearing the diagnosis, a sob tore from his throat before his eyes rolled back.
"Stroke indicators!" a paramedic yelled. "Vitals crashing!"
Thirty minutes later, I stood outside the ICU clutching two critical condition notices. My hands trembled.
They only wanted to surprise their son.
A nurse marched over. "Ma'am, we need the deposit immediately. Surgery cannot proceed without payment."
I reached for my wallet, then froze. Anthony had frozen everything. I didn't have a cent.
The elevator dinged.
Anthony stepped out, supporting Jasmine. Her head was wrapped in dramatic bandages, and she leaned into him, playing the fragile victim.
"Anthony!" I lunged toward them, waving the notices. "Mom and Dad are in the ICU! Sign the papers!"
He didn't glance at the forms. "Why should I finance your parents' medical bills? Read the prenup. Your family's debts are not my problem."
"They're your parents!" My voice cracked. "They came back to surprise you! Jasmine humiliated them until your mother's heart gave out!"
I pointed at his mistress. "Are you going to watch them die because of her?"
Anthony blinked. A flicker of panic crossed his face. He reached for the papers.
Jasmine's hand shot out, catching his wrist. "She's lying, Tony. Those two old beggars tried to scam us for a free meal. How could they be your noble parents?"
She glared at me. "Darling, don't be fooled."
The doubt in Anthony's eyes vanished. He withdrew his hand.
"If you claim they're my parents, I'll see for myself."
"They're in the ICU!" I cried. "You can't waltz in! Just call them!"
"Where is the family of Ms. Zoe Larson?"
The nurse's shout cut through like a blade.
Zoe Larson. His mother's name.
Anthony's expression shattered. He snatched the papers, scanning until his eyes landed on the patient's name.
"Zoe Larson..." he whispered. "These really have my parents' names..."
"Tony, no!" Jasmine dug her nails into his arm. "It's a trick! This bitch knows your mother's name. She put it on the forms to scare you into paying!"
The nurse rushed up to me. "You're Ms. Larson's daughter, correct? We need ECMO immediately. It's her only chance. Come pay now!"
I had no time for dignity.
I dropped to my knees on the cold tiles.
"Husband, please." Tears spilled over. "That's your mother inside. I'm begging you. Save her."
In three years, I had never bowed to him. Never begged.
Anthony looked down, conflict warring in his gaze. The papers shook in his hand. He opened his mouth—
Jasmine let out a sharp wail and clutched her head.
