"Dr. Jordan, every time I run into you, you're in a rather desperate state," Xavier's voice was steady and calm.
Gillian pulled her arm back, her mind reeling in panic. "Mr. Sterling, thank you. I have an emergency. I have to go."
"Let me drive you," Xavier said, taking in her frantic expression. "You're clearly in a rush, and it's morning rush hour. You won't find a cab."
With no time to argue, Gillian climbed into Xavier's car. After a hurried thank you, she bolted the moment they reached the care center, sprinting toward the intensive care floor.
Her mother had heard the vicious online rumors—that Gillian was sleeping around, that the apple didn't fall far from the tree, that because her father had gone to prison for assaulting a psychiatric patient, his daughter was naturally a whore who slept her way to the top. The internet had branded their entire family as scum.
Her mother's mental state was already fragile. Hearing her daughter destroyed like that had triggered a massive, catastrophic physical collapse.
The attending doctor rushed over the second he saw Gillian. "Your mother is in critical condition. We've issued a critical notice. We need to screen for a liver match immediately. You need to prepare yourself for the worst."
The words struck Gillian like a thunderbolt, leaving her swaying on her feet as a deafening ring echoed in her ears.
Her brother was missing, her father was in prison. It was her responsibility to take care of her mother, and instead, she had brought her nothing but pain and disaster.
If her mother died, how could she ever face her father and brother again?
All color drained from Gillian's face, her voice trembling violently. "Run the match. I don't care how much it costs. Please, save my mother."
"I'll start the screening protocols right now. We had an organ transported here recently for another patient that wasn't a match. If your mother is incredibly lucky..."
Gillian leaned heavily against the wall just to stay upright. "Please. Even if it's not a match, do whatever it takes. Buy us enough time to find one."
After the doctor left to make the arrangements.
Gillian slumped onto the cold bench in the hallway, her fragile spine curving as she buried her face in her hands. Tears soaked her eyelashes, yet she refused to let them fall.
The sterile white lights hummed above her in the dead silence of the corridor, casting a long, utterly lonely shadow against the floor.
A few minutes later, Gillian lifted her head and pulled out her phone to call York.
She needed cash, immediately.
Her mother's life mattered far more than her own pride.
She dialed his main number, but it was still blocked. She tried his alternate number, but it rang out endlessly.



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