He had spent decades ensuring that no one could say they had carried him.
Then Lily stepped close and held two of his fingers.
—We’ve got you, she said.
The executives watched as Nathaniel left his office between the women who cleaned his home, holding a child’s battered doll in one hand.
No one asked about the meeting.
No one looked at him with pity.
They simply moved aside.
In the elevator, Nathaniel leaned against the mirrored wall.
His face looked gray beneath the recessed lights.
Lily stood beside him, still holding his fingers.
—Hospitals smell funny, she told him.
—But my mom says doctors need you to tell the truth.
Nathaniel looked at Elena.
—Has she always spoken this much?
Elena’s fear softened for the first time.
—Only when she thinks someone needs her.
At the hospital, Dr.
Cole met them near the private entrance.
He was prepared to scold Nathaniel, but his attention shifted to the cloth doll tucked beneath Nathaniel’s arm.
—Don’t ask, Nathaniel said.
—I wasn’t going to.
—You were.
—Absolutely.
The familiar exchange steadied him for three steps.
Then a wave of dizziness forced him into a wheelchair.
Nathaniel’s jaw tightened.
—I can walk.
Dr.
Cole crouched in front of him.
—You can also cooperate.
Today, I recommend cooperation.
Nathaniel looked toward Lily.
She was watching him closely.
He sat back.
—Fine.
The tests lasted through the afternoon.
Blood was drawn.
Wires were attached to his chest.
Images of his heart appeared on monitors Nathaniel refused to study because he could not influence what they showed.
Elena tried twice to take Lily home.
Both times, Nathaniel found a reason for them to stay.
First, he claimed Lily had forgotten her doll, even though it remained on his bed.
Later, he asked whether she had finished the drawing she had started that morning.
By evening, the medical team had confirmed Dr.
Cole’s warning.
Nathaniel’s heart was dangerously weak.
He needed medication, monitoring, drastic changes to his schedule, and formal placement on the transplant list.
There was no clever transaction that could purchase certainty.
Money could secure the best room, the finest specialists, and absolute privacy.
It could not command a donor heart to appear.
When Dr.
Cole explained this, Nathaniel became cold again.
—What is the average wait?
—There is no useful average for you.
—There is always an average.
—An average won’t tell us when the right donor will become available.
