Chapter 4

My heart stopped before the prize money reappeared.

The resuscitation team rushed into my room. A doctor began chest compressions while a nurse pushed epinephrine into my IV. The numbers on the monitor did not recover.

“Prepare to defibrillate.”

Electricity surged through my body. My back lifted from the mattress, then fell hard against it.

Still no heartbeat.

The attending physician continued compressions while ordering the hospital to contact the private cardiac center immediately.

The treatment I needed was not a routine operation. It was an experimental procedure that public insurance did not cover. St. Joseph’s could provide emergency stabilization, but the private center could not dispatch an air ambulance, prepare specialized blood products, or assemble the surgical team without a financial guarantee and transfer authorization.

The game show’s financial department was ready to wire the money directly to the center.

Mother refused to sign the electronic authorization.

“Why?” Dad’s voice came through the doctor’s speakerphone. “The producers only need to press a button. The hospital could have the money in minutes.”

Mother sounded perfectly reasonable.

“You expect me to authorize a transfer that large through a link?”

“It isn’t some random link. It is a medical escrow account established by the program and the hospital.”

“Three years ago, you opened a fraudulent bank email and exposed your credit card information. Have you forgotten?”

“The bank froze the account the same day. We didn’t lose a cent.” Dad was nearly shouting. “What does that have to do with Chloe’s operation?”

Mother insisted that the producers cancel the instant transfer. She wanted the bank to verify the receiving account again, issue a cashier’s check in her name, and release it to her in person so that the family could carry it to the hospital.

Every step required more time.

The producer warned her, “Dr. Carter, account verification and a cashier’s check may take forty minutes. Your daughter may not have that long.”

Mother would not reconsider.

“Daniel always assumes online payments are safe. If I give in this time, he will never learn.”

For a moment, Dad stopped breathing.

“You’re teaching me another lesson?”

“I am protecting our family’s money.”

“Our daughter is dying.”

“Stop saying that.” Anger entered Mother’s voice. “The more you panic, the more likely you are to make another bad decision.”

In the emergency room, the doctor discharged the defibrillator again. My body jerked beneath the pads. The monitor still showed no viable rhythm.

“Continue compressions. One more milligram of epinephrine.”

The nurse sent constant updates to the producers. The host had left the stage and was demanding that the financial department bypass Mother. The program’s attorney explained that she was the sole recipient named in the prize agreement. Without her authorization, no one else could change the payment method.

The livestream continued.

Millions of people watched as the cashier’s check was printed, verified, and placed in an envelope. No one was discussing the quiz anymore. The comments all demanded the same thing.

[Stop going through the bank.]

[Send the money to the hospital now.]

[She is still wasting time.]

Mother ignored them.

She made the bank employee check every letter on the document, then asked for a demonstration of its security features. The doctors told her three separate times that my heart had stopped. She still insisted on completing every unnecessary step.

“Evelyn, please.” Dad’s voice had become hoarse. “You proved your point. I will never open another unverified link. Now authorize the transfer and let them save Chloe.”

Mother was quiet for several seconds.

“You’re only saying that because you’re frightened. Once this is over, you’ll forget again.”

Dad finally lost control.

“Once what is over? If Chloe dies, nothing will ever be over.”

“She will not die.” Mother raised her voice. “She was talking to me this morning. No one dies in a matter of hours.”

Inside the emergency room, the attending physician stopped.

The team had worked on me for forty-seven minutes. There was no spontaneous heartbeat, no effective circulation. My brain had been deprived of oxygen for too long. Even if they restored a rhythm now, they could not undo the damage.

The doctor looked at the clock and slowly removed his gloves.

“Time of death, 4:17 p.m.”

The monitor gave one long, unbroken tone. A nurse silenced the alarm and drew a white sheet over my face.

Twenty minutes later, Mother reached the hospital.

She ran through the corridors with the cashier’s check clenched in one hand. Dad and Ethan followed her, both of them utterly colorless.

Mother pushed open the door to my old room.

It was empty. The machines had been switched off. My IV lines had been placed in a medical-waste container, and the bed had been remade as though no one had ever waited there.

Mother held up the check and smiled breathlessly.

“Chloe? Mom brought the money.”

No one answered.

She turned to the nurse behind her.

“They’ve already taken her into surgery, haven’t they?”

The nurse did not take the check.

“Dr. Carter, your daughter died twenty minutes ago.”