Chapter 22 #2
"I know," I said, wrapping my arms around her as gently as possible, trying to share my warmth. "It's okay, Ella. Everything's going to be fine."
She didn't push me away. She just buried her face in my chest, letting out short, choked sobs. In that eerily quiet corridor, I felt her tears soak through my shirt, scalding and heavy.
I bent down and gently pried open her cramping fingers, lacing them with mine. For the next three hours, neither of us spoke. Our only connection was that shared warmth between our palms.
Finally, the heavy OR doors scraped open.
Hawkins emerged, pulling down his mask. He looked exhausted. But he was smiling.
"Surgery was successful," he said.
Ella went limp.
I caught her. She leaned against me, shoulders heaving. She laughed twice, then started crying again, as if finally able to release all that pent-up fear.
"Thank you," she told Hawkins, voice so choked she could barely speak. "Thank you. My sister can finally live like a normal person."
After Maya was moved to the ICU, Ella resumed her almost self-punishing vigil.
I tried to get her to rotate shifts with the nurses. She was stubborn. All I could do was upgrade the VIP room facilities—softer blankets, handmade down pillows. Even so, she slept terribly. The circles under her eyes grew darker, her face more haggard.
A week later, Maya's condition finally stabilized completely.
The doctor said the rejection was under control. She could eat some soft foods now, could even prop herself up on pillows and use that hoarse, weak voice to urge Ella to leave this cramped space.
"You can't keep treating yourself like this," Maya said, a helpless smile on her pale face. "Go out, get some fresh air, or your face is going to scare me."
Ella opened her mouth. "But—"
"No buts," Maya interrupted, glancing at me. "Ella, you need to think about your own condition."
Ella turned to look at me, expression complicated. I nodded reassuringly. "Go on. I'll take care of her."
She hesitated a long time before finally pulling a folded paper from her bag.
"This is the schedule," she said, handing it to me, fingertips trembling slightly. "Maya has to take her anti-rejection medication every six hours. Absolutely cannot be more than fifteen minutes late, or the consequences could be catastrophic."
I took the paper and glanced at the schedule. "Got it," I said quietly.
"You're sure you've got it?" The doubt in her eyes was like a thorn. To ease her almost obsessive anxiety, I recited the complex drug names and precise times back to her word for word.
Only after confirming I was flawless did she relax her shoulders slightly, though she still warned me anxiously: "If there's any problem—I mean any problem at all—you call me immediately."
"I will. Don't worry."
She repeated herself several more times until I solemnly promised again. Finally, she turned around and left the room, hesitating with every step.
The room fell quiet quickly, only the rhythmic beeping of machines. Maya leaned back against her pillows, those eyes made enormous by illness now bright with understanding.
"She loves you, Lucas." She spoke suddenly.
My hand paused while organizing pill bottles. I turned to look at her, feeling an unfamiliar nervousness rising in my chest. "Really? Most of the time, I feel like she's reached her limit. That she doesn't want to continue with me."
Maya slowly shook her head, a bitter smile touching her lips that seemed to see through everything.
"Ella is simple. And simple people are terrifyingly stubborn.
She'd made up her mind to leave you. But now she's broken her own principles for you.
I don't think even she realizes yet how much she loves you. "
A shock ran through me, sour and sweet emotions colliding in my chest.
"I made unforgivable mistakes before," I promised Maya. "From now on, I'll use everything I have to make it up to her."
Maya's expression softened, her voice quieter. "And thank you. For everything you've done for me."
"You're Ella's sister. That makes you family." A simple answer. In my world, this kind of protection was only natural.
When the time came, I gave Maya her medication on schedule. The pills had a sedative effect. She fell asleep quickly.
I called the nurse to confirm all her vitals were normal. Then I opened my laptop.
If I slacked off for even a day or two, work piled up like a mountain.
The company was running smoothly enough under Grandfather's management—those old dinosaurs on the board had fought alongside him in the business world for decades and were willing to follow his lead.
But Grandfather was elderly. I'd already gotten several warning calls from the family doctor.
So, unless Grandfather absolutely had to step in himself, everything else that could be handled remotely, I took on myself.
Obviously, this wasn't sustainable long-term, so the priority was finding several professional managers.
HR had narrowed it down to two final candidates. This afternoon was the last interview. I needed to make the final call.
I put on my headphones and dove into an intense video conference.
"Mr. Rockefeller, good afternoon."
"Afternoon," I kept my voice low. "Let's get started." To avoid disturbing Maya, I spoke quickly and efficiently.
The interview went smoothly. The first candidate was younger, MBA degree. He answered confidently with clear reasoning and offered several solid optimization suggestions. You could tell he'd prepared extensively.
The second candidate was trickier. Named Hill. Twenty-plus years on Wall Street. I'd heard of him. I was wary of someone that ambitious. But his experience was a valuable asset.
After the interviews ended, I was weighing the pros and cons of both candidates on the evaluation form.
Suddenly, the door burst open. Ella rushed in, tears streaming down her face. Pure panic.
I yanked off my headphones and hurried to her.
"What's wrong?"
Ella looked at me, then at Maya. Maya was still sleeping, breathing steady.
"Why didn't you answer your phone?" Ella's voice was low, but I could hear the fury she was barely containing. Her voice shook.
"What?"
"I called you over a dozen times!" Her voice trembled, tears already falling. "Why didn't you answer?"
I pulled my phone from my briefcase. Fifteen missed calls on the screen. All from Ella. Plus twenty-some unread texts.
"I had it on silent," I immediately explained, instinctively lowering my voice. "I was afraid the ringer would wake Maya."
But Ella's expression didn't soften at all. Her face was ashen, lips trembling, looking like she was about to collapse. Her eyes were huge, full of terror and despair, as if she'd just experienced something horrible. She couldn't seem to hear my explanation at all.
"Do you have any idea how important that medication is for Maya?" Her voice rose higher, almost shouting. "Do you know what happens if something goes wrong?"
"Ella, calm down..."
"You want me to calm down?" Tears spilled down her cheeks, her voice breaking. "If there's a rejection reaction, the surgery was for nothing! She could die! I trusted you with something this important, and you had your phone on silent!"
"But I promised you I'd do it, so I did," I tried to soothe her. "Plus, there are nurses here. They watch the medication schedule too. You don't need to..."
I stopped. Because I realized what I'd been about to say.
"Make such a big deal?" Ella finished for me, her voice full of sarcasm and pain. "That's what you were going to say, wasn't it?"
"That's not what I meant."
"That's exactly what you meant!" Her voice shook, her whole body trembling. "Just like at the manor! You figured since there were servants, I didn't need to worry about anything. So you felt perfectly justified not answering my calls, not being there when I needed you!"
"Ella..."
"You have no empathy," she said, tears streaming continuously. "Even now, you haven't changed. You only ever see things from your angle. You always think your explanations are reasonable, your arrangements are right. You never once stand in my shoes and think about how scared I am, how worried!"
I finally grasped the gravity of the situation.
This wasn't just about the medication. Not just about that phone call.
This was about everything I'd done to her over the past two years. All those decisions I'd thought were reasonable, correct, for her own good.
I tried to move closer. I wanted to take her hand, hold her, make her understand that I got it now.
But she stepped back like I'd burned her.
"Don't touch me," she said.
"Ella, listen to me..."
"You knew that medication was a matter of my sister's life," she cut me off, voice full of disappointment.
"But you still had to take that meeting.
Less than two hours. You still had to take that meeting!
Is work really that important to you? More important than my sister's life?
More important than what I asked you to do? "
Her hands pushed against my chest, shoving hard. I stumbled backward out of the room.
"I never should have trusted you," she said through her tears, voice completely raw. "I'll never trust you again."
The door slammed in my face.
I stood in the corridor, listening to her cry inside. That suppressed, desperate sobbing cut through me like knives.
I realized the trust we'd barely rebuilt had collapsed again.
And this time, it might be more complete than before.