Chapter 1

• "Somebody!" He screamed at the top of his voice. His chest heaved as he stumbled through the automatic doors, his arms straining under the weight of the woman on his back.
• "Please... Anybody!" He begged, his knees shaking, threatening to give away.
• The nurses froze, their attention snapping to the disheveled man in the black suit, sweat-drenched and wild-eyed, carrying an older woman. Blood soaked her blouse, its crimson hue boldly contrasting the hospital's white environment.
• "It's my mum," he gasped, barely able to drive the words out. "She... she needs help."
• The staff rushed forward, guiding him to gently lower her onto a gurney. Riley ’s hands trembled as he let her go, his body sagging with exhaustion.
• "What happened, sir?" a nurse asked, her tone calm yet carrying a slight sense of urgency.
• "I don’t know!" Riley stammered, running a shaky hand through his damp hair. "She called me… and then she wasn’t answering anymore. When I got there, she was—" His voice cracked. "She was like this."
• Doctors swarmed the gurney, wheeling her into the emergency ward. Riley trailed behind with the rest of the energy left in his body, until the swinging doors slammed shut in his face, cutting him off.
• Left alone, his knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the cold, tiled floor. "Please, God," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Don’t take her from me. Not like this."
• It had been years since Riley prayed—decades, even. The childhood prayers he’d whispered in their cramped apartment had been desperate cries for food, shelter, anything. Back then, he believed his pleas had fallen on deaf ears and gave up on hoping. But now? Now he had no choice but to hope.
• Minutes dragged into eternity until a doctor emerged, his white coat stained with faint streaks of blood.
• "Mr. Riley ?"
• Riley rushed to his feet, nearly stumbling in his haste. "Yes, yes. That’s me. How is she? Please tell me she’s okay."
• The doctor hesitated, his expression grim. "Your mother’s condition is critical. We’ve started surgery, but she needs advanced equipment to stabilize her. The cost will be... approximately $100,000."
• Riley felt the floor drop out from beneath him. His head spun as the number echoed in his mind. $100,000. The weight of it crushed him. He had never even held half of such an amount.
• "Doctor, I—" He grabbed the man’s shoulders, his voice shaking. He didn't have the money, but he couldn't just leave her to die like that. "Please," he begged desperately. "I don’t have that kind of money. But I swear, I’ll pay. Whatever it takes. Just save her."
• The doctor looked away, his jaw tightening. "I’m sorry," he said softly. "If I proceed without at least half of the payment, I'd be violating hospital policy."
• "Policy?" Riley ’s voice cracked, a mix of disbelief and rage. "She’s dying! You’re telling me rules matters more than her life?"
• Before the doctor could respond, another voice cut through the tension like a blade traveling through the air.
• "That’s exactly what he’s telling you."
• Riley turned sharply. A man in a grey suit approached, his steps slow and measured. The hospital director. His expression was as cold as his tone.
• "This is a private hospital, Mr. Riley ," the director continued, folding his arms. "We are not a charity organization. If you can’t pay, there’s nothing more we can do."
• The doctor looked down, guilt flashing briefly across his face. Riley , however, saw nothing but red.
• "You’re condemning her to die," he queried, his disbelief becoming more evident, his voice trembling with barely-contained fury. "What kind of place is this? What kind of person are you? Aren't doctors supposed to save lives?!"
• The director didn’t flinch. "I’m sorry for your situation, but we have rules for a reason. You’ll need to take her elsewhere if you can’t pay."
• Riley stumbled back, his chest heaving as his mind spiraled. He felt like he was drowning, each breath heavier than the last.
• "There has to be a way," he muttered to himself like a mad man picking at straws, while pacing in frantic circles. His hands tugged at his hair, his eyes darting wildly. "I can’t lose her. Not like this."
• And then, an idea struck.
• "A loan," he whispered, the word blooming like a fragile bud of hope. His gaze sharpened. "I can use the house as collateral."
• He straightened abruptly, brushing away the tears streaking his face. Without another word, he bolted for the exit.
• ***
• The cold night air brushed his skin as Riley sprinted down the empty streets. His house wasn’t far—just a few blocks away. Each step pounded with urgency as he held on tightly to the slim hope that he could save his mother and get a proper view of the situation.
• He burst through the front door, gasping for air.
• "Riley ?" Sarah’s voice traveled from the living room. She appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt. Her brow furrowed as she took in his disorganized state. "What’s going on?"
• "Where are the house documents?" he demanded, ignoring her question. "I need them now. We have to go to the bank."
• "Riley , slow down. What—"
• "No!" he snapped, his voice startling her into silence. "We don’t have time for this. My mum is dying, and I need to take out a loan."
• But then he froze.
• A man sat on the couch, legs crossed casually. His dark suit was impeccable, clearly reflecting his financial status. He did have a clear view of the situation, but one thing Riley was sure of at the moment was that this man didn’t belong here.
• "Who’s that?" Riley demanded, his voice low, his rage from earlier resurfacing.
• Sarah’s lips curled into a smirk. "Oh, him?" She leaned against the doorframe, her tone light but laced with venom. "You could call him a… very close friend."
• Riley ’s mind raced as the pieces clicked into place. The rough hair, the slight flush to Sarah’s cheeks, the man’s relaxed posture like he owned the place.
• His daughter, Evie, toddled into the room, her face lighting up. "Daddy!"
• For a brief moment, Riley ’s heart swelled. But then Evie turned to the man on the couch, her tiny hands reaching up as she squealed, "Daddy!"
• Time froze.
• Riley stared at his daughter, his wife, and the stranger in his home. His blood turned to ice, his chest tightening until he could barely breathe.
• "Sarah," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "who is he?"
• Her smirk widened. "Come on... Think... You're a detective right? This should be easy."
• Her words, casual and cruel, shattered something inside him.
• Riley ’s fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms. His gaze darted between the man and his daughter, Evie. The same sharp brown eyes. The same dimpled smile.
• It hit him like a freight train.
• "No," Riley whispered, shaking his head as if denying it would make it untrue. He turned to Sarah, his voice rising with anger and anguish. "No! Tell me this isn’t what it looks like, Sarah! Tell me this isn’t real!"
• Sarah tilted her head, her smile never wavering. "Oh, it’s real," she said, her voice taking a sing-song manner.
• Riley ’s heart shattered. The woman he had sacrificed everything for, the woman he had trusted above all else after his mother, had been playing him all along.
• "And as for your mother..." Sarah’s tone turned icy, the smirk replaced with a cold sneer. "You might as well let her go. That’s what we planned, anyway."
• The words hit Riley like a blow to the chest. His breath caught, his vision narrowing as the sound of his own heart pounding filled his ears.
• His mind spun as he struggled to make sense of it all. But one thing was clear: this was far from over.