Blur of vengeance

CHAPTER ONE

Ivy's POV

"Your father isn't going to survive being in a coma, Miss Ivy," the doctor said, a grave expression on his face.

I closed my eyes and stepped back, not wanting to hear whatever he had to say, because it couldn't be good.

"Your father's condition is worsening, and we're struggling to prevent anymore complications. Additionally, the cost of his ongoing care significantly exceeds the payments you've been making," he said, handing me a sheet of test results.

"So, what are you saying? Do I need to pay more?" I asked, feeling my breath hitch at the way he stared at me.

"I think it's best to take him off life support and let him pass on in peace, Miss Ivy," he finally said, and I felt my knees wobble.

"No-no, that cannot happen. There has to be something you can do to save him," I begged, my voice rising as tears pooled in my eyes.

"We've done our very best to save him, Miss Ivy..." he drawled lazily.

"No! You haven't! If you had, I wouldn't be here, and you wouldn't be telling me you're unable to save my dad! I've paid every hospital bill, everything, and-and it just cannot happen!" I yelled, slamming my fist against my forehead, wiping the tears trickling down my face.

"Doctor... please, do anything-everything possible to save him. You cannot let him die. I've been here for years!" I begged.

The doctor's gaze softened, but there was still a stubborn professional distance in his eyes. He took a step closer, lowering his voice as if he didn't want the nurses passing by to hear.

"Miss Ivy... there is one way," he said, his words slow and deliberate. "Your father's treatment is outdated. The equipment keeping him alive is from a decade ago, and the drugs he's on... they're not strong enough anymore. He needs an upgrade in treatment, a complete change in his care plan. But it would mean moving him to a facility with more advanced resources-better machines, newer medication, specialized staff."

I blinked at him, my lips trembling. "Then why are you just telling me this now?"

He looked away, the weight of guilt in the set of his jaw. "Because those treatments are expensive. More than ten times what you're paying now. And without an immediate transfer, he doesn't have long before-" He stopped himself, the rest of the sentence hanging heavily between us.

My chest heaved. Ten times? I could barely keep up with what I was paying now. My savings were already ashes. "So... either I come up with that money, or I watch him die?"

The doctor didn't answer. His silence was all the confirmation I needed.

"I'll find the money," I whispered, more to myself than to him, even though I had no idea how. "I don't care if I have to sell everything I own... or myself... I'll do it."

Before he could respond, the sudden, sharp beep-beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor tore through the corridor. My blood froze.

We both spun toward my father's room. The monitor wasn't just beeping-it was screaming. Nurses were already rushing inside, their voices tight and urgent.

"Infection spreading fast-pressure's dropping!" one of them shouted.

"What?!" My voice cracked as I stumbled into the room. My father's face was pale, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

The doctor shoved past me, barking orders. "Get him prepped for emergency surgery! Now!"

I was shoved to the side as a team swarmed around the bed. My hands shook so hard I could barely grip the door frame.

-And then-his body jerked under the wires. The alarms wailed louder.

The doctor's voice thundered over the chaos. "We're losing him!"

I could only stand there, frozen, watching my father's life dangle by a single, fraying thread. This time, I didn't wipe the tears rolling down my face; I just let them flow, because there was no point holding them in.

The bright, sterile lights of the operating room burned into my eyes as I dragged myself in behind them. Someone tried to stop me, but I shoved past, my chest tight with panic.

"Miss Ivy, you can't-" a nurse started, but I barely heard her over the shrill chorus of machines screaming for his life.

They had already cut away his gown. The sight of my father's frail, motionless body on the table made my knees buckle. Tubes ran from his nose and mouth, his skin clammy and almost gray.

The doctor's voice was sharp, urgent. "We need to get the infection under control before it hits the bloodstream! Increase the antibiotics-now!"

"BP is crashing!" another nurse called out, her eyes darting to the screen.

My breath came in ragged gasps. "Please-please save him-" I whispered, though no one was listening. They were all locked in a desperate rhythm-passing instruments, injecting drugs, wiping sweat from their brows as if time itself was slipping through their fingers.

A sudden, violent spasm racked his body. The heart monitor flatlined for a fraction of a second before climbing back into a weak, erratic rhythm.

"Pulse is unstable! Doctor, he's not responding to-"

"I said keep going!" the doctor barked, sweat dripping down his temple. "If this spreads any further, we'll lose him completely."

My nails dug into my palms until I felt the sting and the coppery smell of blood. Every second felt like a blade carving into me.

Then-his breathing tube clogged. The machine let out a harsh, mechanical choke.

"Airway obstruction!" a nurse yelled.

The doctor's head snapped up. "Scalpel. Now!"

Metal glinted under the light. I stumbled forward, my voice breaking. "What are you doing?!"

"Trying to keep him alive," he shot back without looking at me. "If we don't open his airway now, he'll suffocate before we fix the infection."

The room became a blur-hands moving fast, the smell of antiseptic sharp in the air, my father's life hanging in the balance.

And then, just as the doctor's scalpel touched his skin-

The heart monitor flat-lined.