Chapter 4

The men in black suits marched down the hallway. Their heavy footsteps sounded like a ticking clock. They formed a tight half-circle, trapping Emmie and Alistair against the wall.

The lead guard stepped forward. "Mrs. Ellis. Mr. Ellis has moved you to the Long Island estate for closer monitoring. You're coming with us."

Alistair stood up, throwing his frail body in front of Emmie. "Stand down! I am the steward of the Brandt family!"

The guard didn't even blink. He reached out and shoved Alistair hard in the chest. The old man stumbled backward, his shoulder slamming into the plaster wall.

Emmie shot up from the chair. She clutched the heavy envelope to her chest. "Do not touch him!" she snarled.

She looked at the glass window of the ICU. She couldn't let them drag her out screaming. She couldn't let her grandfather hear this.

She gritted her teeth, tasting blood on her tongue. "I will go."

She turned to Alistair, keeping her voice low. "Stay with him. I will handle this and come back."

As the elevator doors closed, one of the guards spoke into his radio. "Mr. Ellis, we have her. The Long Island estate-he says the transplant prep can be done there."

The guards grabbed her upper arms, half-carrying, half-dragging her into the elevator. The doors slid shut, cutting off Alistair's terrified face.

In the back of the black SUV, Emmie sat wedged between two guards. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she ripped the wax seal off the manila envelope.

She pulled out the first document. The letterhead belonged to the Mayo Clinic.

Patient: Silas Brandt. Diagnosis: Stage IV Lung Cancer. Multiple metastases. Terminal.

It felt like a sledgehammer hit the back of her skull. Her lungs stopped working. Huge, hot tears spilled over her lashes, landing on the crisp white paper.

She bit down on her lower lip so hard she tasted copper. She refused to make a sound in front of Daxton's men. Her heart physically ached, twisting into a tight, agonizing knot.

The drive to Long Island was a suffocating blur of gray highways and agonizing silence. Every mile that passed felt like a physical weight pressing down on her chest. Over an hour later, the SUV finally turned through the massive iron gates of the Ellis estate. The tires crunched along the long gravel path before the vehicle stopped smoothly in front of the towering stone fountain.

Emmie wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. She shoved the papers back into the envelope and pushed the car door open.

She stumbled onto the gravel driveway.

A silver Maybach was parked near the grand entrance.

Daxton was stepping out of the back seat. In his arms, he carried Hortensia. His movements were incredibly gentle, as if he were holding fragile glass.

Hortensia rested her head against Daxton's broad chest, a weak, pathetic smile playing on her lips.

The sight of them was a poisoned needle driven straight into Emmie's eyes. A wave of pure nausea rolled through her stomach.

Emmie clenched her fists. She took a deep breath and marched directly into Daxton's path.

Daxton stopped. He looked at her red, swollen eyes and the envelope in her hands. His jaw tightened in immediate annoyance.

Emmie swallowed her pride. She swallowed every ounce of dignity she had left.

"Daxton," her voice shook violently. "Please. Use the Ellis medical foundation. Get the best oncologists. Save my grandfather."

She took a step closer. "I will do the bone marrow transplant today. I will sign away everything. Just save him."

Hortensia let out a tiny, delicate cough against Daxton's chest. She shrank back as if Emmie terrified her.

Daxton's arms tightened protectively around Hortensia. His eyes turned into black ice.

"The Ellis family resources are not to be wasted on a dying old man," Daxton said. His voice was completely devoid of humanity.

"Do not use this pathetic excuse to delay the surgery again, Emmie. You are disturbing Hortensia."

He didn't look at her again. He stepped around her, carrying Hortensia up the marble stairs and into the massive house.

The heavy front doors slammed shut.

Emmie stood alone on the driveway. The cold wind whipped her hair. Her fingers crushed the edges of the envelope. The last shred of warmth in her heart froze solid.