CHAPTER 5 — EMMA’S CRISIS

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and fear.

Arielle rushed through the double doors, breathless, her hands still shaking from everything that happened at Blackwood Global. Her chest felt tight, ribs barely expanding as she forced herself forward.

She wasn’t supposed to be here this early.

She wasn’t supposed to be here like this.

She wasn’t supposed to feel like the ground beneath her life was caving in.

But Emma’s doctor called.

“You should come immediately.”

Those words had hollowed her out all morning.

Arielle reached Room 312 and paused, hand hovering over the metal handle. She closed her eyes, inhaled hard, then pushed the door open.

“Emma?” she whispered.

Her little sister lay small and pale against the white sheets, the IV drip humming softly beside her. Her curls were messy, tangled like she’d been tossing and turning. Her lips looked too dry. Her skin too warm.

Arielle moved to her side instantly.

“Hey, sunshine…”

Emma didn’t stir.

Her breathing was shallow. Too shallow.

“Emma?” Arielle touched her wrist gently. “Hey, baby, I’m here.”

Emma’s eyelids fluttered open, barely. Her pupils looked glassy, unfocused.

“Ari…” she whispered, voice fragile. “It hurts.”

Arielle fought the urge to break.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Emma winced, curling slightly. “My stomach… it’s burning.”

Arielle brushed her hair back with shaking fingers. “Okay. Okay, I’ll get the nurse. Just breathe for me, okay?”

Emma nodded weakly, but her body jerked suddenly, like a wave of pain tore through her.

Arielle’s heart lurched.

She bolted out of the room.

“Someone! I need someone, please!”

Her voice cracked down the hall.

Two nurses ran toward her, pushing a cart.

“What’s happening?” one asked.

“She’s in pain, she can’t breathe right, she looks too pale, and....and she just jerked all of a sudden, I think something’s wrong!”

They rushed past Arielle into the room.

Arielle followed, but the moment she crossed the threshold,

“Miss Lawson, please step back.”

“She’s my sister! I can't just leave her”

“We need space.”

Arielle reluctant step out of their way, arms trembling at her sides.

She couldn’t breathe as she watched them work. Adjusting IV drips, checking vitals, whispering to each other with tight, urgent faces.

Emma whimpered, A small, broken sound that pierced Arielle like glass.

“Emma,” she whispered.

A nurse glanced over. “Her bilirubin levels spiked overnight. She’s destabilizing.”

Destabilizing.

A word Arielle didn’t fully understand,

yet somehow knew was bad.

Very bad.

“Dr. Wilson is on his way,” the nurse added.

Arielle nodded numbly.

Her heart felt like it was being squeezed by a fist.

She moved to the corner of the room and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold her insides together.

Everything blurred around her, the beeping monitors, the whispering nurses, Emma’s tiny gasps. Memories of the last eight years flooded her mind,

Emma learning to walk.

Emma holding her hand on the first day of school.

Emma crying when she lost her first tooth.

Emma watching cartoons while hooked to machines.

Arielle promised she’d keep her safe.

She promised.

A soft tap on the door pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts.

Dr. Wilson entered, face grave.

Arielle straightened instantly. “What’s happening?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

He examined Emma first, her pulse, her abdomen, her breathing. He murmured instructions to the nurses, who adjusted medications again.

Only after a long, tense minute did he turn to Arielle.

“We’ve been monitoring her liver function closely,” he began.

Her throat tightened. “I know… I know you said there were concerns.”

“Yes,” he said gently. “But her numbers dropped faster than anticipated. Her liver is failing quicker than we projected.”

Arielle felt the floor tilt.

“No,” she whispered. “No, she… she was doing better last week. You said she was responding.”

“We hoped she would recover with treatment,” he said, eyes soft with sympathy. “But Emma is entering early liver failure.”

Arielle’s knees buckled, and she has to held onto the something to stay upright, she doesn't even know what it is.

She shook her head. “There’s… something else you can try, right? Another medication? Another procedure?”

Dr. Wilson hesitated.

Arielle’s heart cracked open.

“We may need to begin evaluating her for a transplant,” he said quietly.

The world went silent.

Emma.

A transplant.

An eight, year, old.

Her sister.

“No,” Arielle whispered, tears stinging her vision. “That can’t be… that’s not… we can’t,”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “But without a transplant, Emma’s chances will decline rapidly.”

Arielle covered her mouth, choking back a sob.

She looked at Emma, lying so small and helpless in the bed.

A transplant.

A surgery that could cost hundreds of thousands.

Money she could never earn in a lifetime.

Dr. Wilson stepped closer. “We’ll do everything we can. But we’ll need to discuss finances, insurance options, and next steps soon.”

Another blow.

Finances.

Insurance.

Words that only meant one thing,

More bills, Bigger bills, Impossible bills.

Her vision blurred. “I… I don’t have money. I, I’m trying,”

“I know, but I think you need to try harder this time,” Dr. Wilson said, his voice gentle. “We’ll work through options. But Emma’s condition is no longer stable, Things may escalate quickly anytime from now.”

Arielle pressed her hands to her face.

Her breath trembled uncontrollably.

“How long?” she asked, barely audible.

He paused.

“Days, Maybe weeks, It depends on how her body reacts.”

She crumbled inside.

Her body shook, tears slipping down her cheeks silently as she slid into the chair beside the bed.

Emma opened her eyes weakly.

“Ari… don’t cry,” she whispered.

Arielle moved to her quickly, taking her small hand. “I’m not crying, baby, I’m just… tired.”

Emma smiled faintly. “You’re always tired.”

Arielle let out a broken laugh.

Then Emma whispered, “Am I… going to die?”

Arielle’s heart shattered.

“Hey, no. No, absolutely not,” she said fiercely, brushing her tears away. “I’m going to fix this, I’m going to fix everything, You’re going to be okay, Do you hear me?”

Emma blinked slowly. “Okay…”

Her eyes fluttered closed again.

Arielle rested her forehead gently against Emma’s arm, her tears dropping silently onto the sheets.

She felt like she was drowning.

And there was no one left to save her.

No one,

A shadow fell across the doorway.

Arielle didn’t notice at first, until the room suddenly felt colder, Heavier, Like the air itself shifted.

The nurses glanced up.

Even Dr. Wilson stiffened.

Arielle lifted her head slowly…

…and froze.

Damian Blackwood stood at the entrance.

Tall.

Impossibly composed.

A storm in a perfectly tailored suit.

His eyes scanned the room once, calculating, unreadable, before landing on her.

Arielle’s breath stalled.

Why was he here?

Why now?

Her heart thundered painfully as he stepped inside the room like he own the place, the door sliding shut behind him with a soft click.

His gaze locked on hers, dark, intense, and something else she couldn’t decipher.

Dangerous and decided.

“Miss Lawson,” he said quietly.

“We need to talk.”