His Life in My Hands

Ziva's POV

Daddy came to my classroom.

I saw him through the window first. His suit. His shiny shoes. His hair looked like a movie star.

My heart jumped.

"Mrs. Alvarez, that's my daddy! That's Jace Riggs!"

Mrs. Alvarez looked. Some kids looked too. I sat up straight. I wanted everyone to see. I always told them my daddy was Jace Riggs, but nobody believed me. Ryan always said I was lying. Mason said if my daddy was a billionaire, he would pick me up in a helicopter.

But there he was. At my classroom door. In his suit.

"Ziva." He smiled at me. A real smile. "Come on, princess. We're going on an adventure."

I grabbed my backpack so fast I almost fell. I waved to Ryan. I wanted her to see. See? I told you. That's my daddy.

In the car, there was a boy in the back seat.

He was small. Pale. His head looked too big for his body. His eyes were dark and quiet. He looked like the sick kids in the movies. Mom never let me watch.

I knew who he was before Daddy said anything.

"Ziva, this is Nolan," Daddy said softly. "Your brother."

My brother. The one Grandma talked about. The one who needed my help.

"Hi," I said quietly.

Nolan didn't say anything. He just looked at me.

Daddy got in the front seat and looked at us in the mirror. He was smiling, really smiling, like Christmas morning.

"I'm taking you both out. It's time you started getting to know each other. Especially now." He paused. "Now that you're going to help Nolan get better."

My stomach went cold.

Help Nolan get better.

Mom never agreed. I never said yes. I didn't even know I was supposed to.

I looked at Nolan. He was staring out the window. He looked very, very sick. And very, very sad.

I didn't say anything. I just held my backpack and looked at my shoes.

We went to a place with trampolines, slides, and pizza. Kids ran around screaming while parents sat at tables looking tired.

Daddy told us to sit at a table by the soft play area while he went to order. He asked us both what we wanted. He looked right at me and waited for my answer. Something about that made my chest hurt because he never did that at home.

"I want pepperoni," Nolan said softly.

"I want cheese," I said.

Daddy smiled. "I'll get both."

He walked away. As soon as he was gone, Nolan turned to me.

"You look like a baby."

I blinked. "I'm seven."

"You look four. Like a baby who got lost."

"That's not nice, Nolan."

"Don't care." He crossed his arms. "My mom says you're not a real Riggs. You're just a girl. Girls don't count."

My eyes started to burn. I didn't want to cry. Not in front of him.

"That's not true."

"It is true. Grandma says it too. You're just a girl, so you have to help me because I'm the one who matters. Grandma loves me very much."

I opened my mouth to respond, but I didn't know what to say.

Then Nolan fell.

He just dropped to the floor. His face scrunched up, and he started crying.

"Ow! Ow! She pushed me!"

I stared at him. "I didn't. I never"

Daddy was there immediately. He lifted Nolan and held him close.

"What happened?"

"She pushed me. She pushed me because I said I begged her to help save my life."

"No!" My voice came out too loud. "I didn't touch him. He fell by himself!"

Daddy looked at me. His face had changed. No smile. No softness.

"Ziva. You don't push your brother."

"But I didn't"

"He's sick. He's weaker than you. You have to be careful."

Nolan sniffled against Daddy's shoulder. His eyes were open. Watching me. Smiling a little. A secret smile that made me feel sick.

Daddy sat down with Nolan on his lap. He rubbed his back. He kissed his head.

Daddy never did that to me. Not once.

I had fallen off my bike last summer and cried for ten minutes, and Daddy didn't say anything.

I sat on the other side of the table. Alone.

After a while, Daddy put Nolan down and looked at me. His eyes were sad now.

"Ziva. Come here."

I walked over. He placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Nolan is very sick. The sickest a kid can be. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"He needs your help. The doctors say only you can save him."

My chest felt tight. "What do I have to do?"

"A small procedure. You'll be asleep. You won't feel anything. When you wake up, Nolan will be better. You'll have saved his life."

I thought about Nolan's secret smile. The way he fell on purpose. The way Daddy held him.

"But"

"Ziva," Daddy said, his voice serious now. "Look at him."

I didn't want to, but I did.

Nolan wasn't pretending now. He held his juice with both hands. He looked very small. His legs were thin.

"He's dying," Daddy said. "Slowly. Every day a little more."

"He can't run. He can't play. He might not make it next month if you don't help him."

My throat tightened. My juice went warm in my hands. I didn't drink it.

"If he dies," Daddy said, "it will be because no one helped him. Do you understand? A child will die, and the people who could have stopped it chose not to."

"That's not fair."

"No. It isn't." He looked at me. "Life isn't fair, Princess. Nolan didn't choose to be sick. You didn't choose to be a match. But here you both are."

I pressed my hands under my thighs.

"If something happens to him, Grandma will be very upset. And Mommy might not be able to stay with us anymore."

My heart stopped.

"What do you mean?"

"Grandma thinks Mom should have given me a son. Nolan is a boy. If something happens to him, she'll blame Mom. And I might have to ask her to leave."

"Leave where?"

"Leave our house. Leave us."

I couldn't breathe.

"You don't want that, do you? Do you want Mom to stay?"

I nodded. Tears filled my eyes.

"Then you have to help Nolan. You're the only one who can save him. His life is in your hands."

His life is in your hands.

Nolan coughed across the table, a thin, wet sound.

I looked at him again. For a moment, he didn't look mean. He looked like a boy who was very, very scared.

I didn't want him to die.

I didn't want Mom to leave.

I didn't want Grandma to be mad.

"Okay," I whispered. "I'll help him."

Daddy pulled me into a hug. It felt good. His arms were big. He smelled like cologne.

"That's my brave girl."

Roberta’s POV

The door opened at nine o'clock.

Ziva walked in first. Her backpack hung off one shoulder. Her hair was messy. Her eyes were red.

I was across the room before the door fully closed. My hands moved over her arms, her face, her hair. Checking.

"Did anything happen? Are you hurt? Ziva, look at me."

"Mommy"

"Are you hurt?"

"No, Mommy, I'm okay."

"What happened? Where did he take you? Are you okay?"

I turned to Jace, my voice sharp.

"Stay away from her. You stay away from my daughter."

"She's my daughter."

"Then act like it."

His phone rang.

The sound cut through the room. Jace looked at the screen, then answered.

"What happened?"

A pause. Then a woman's voice, crying loud enough for me to hear.

He's worse, Jace. The doctors say we should prepare for the worst. He's crashing. You need to come. Now.

Jace's face went still.

"Prepare for the worst," he repeated quietly.

He hung up and looked at me. For a moment, he wasn't cold or cruel. He was just a father whose son was dying.

"If that child dies," he said, "you will spend the rest of your life knowing you could have saved him."

His voice cracked slightly.

"Posterity will judge you if anything happens to Nolan."

Then he left. The door slammed. The house went silent.

I stood in the living room. My hands were shaking. My chest felt like a war.

Prepare for the worst.

A boy was dying.

Because I said no.