Chapter 3

Oliver made every last relative leave the room.

After the door closed, he looked at me.

"The scoring is only there to help me tell what matters. She should never have been told about it."

"I didn't tell her."

"Who else would keep hammering the number seven at her?"

I took out my phone and pulled up the household affairs system.

Oliver had insisted we install it a year ago.

Every single time Paula or I needed to reach him, we had to first log the matter, the time, and how urgent it was, and then he would rescore it himself.

The screen laid it all out.

Paula's first recital: two points.

Paula's fever on her birthday: three points.

Paula trapped in a mall bathroom: four points.

My acute appendicitis: five points.

Last night's critical-condition notice: seven points.

And in Hilary's records, not one item ever came in below nine.

I held the phone out to him.

"She didn't hear it from me. Last week you put the system up on the living room screen, and right in front of her you changed her request to have you at parents' night from five points down to one."

Oliver's jaw tightened.

"I didn't know she was standing behind me."

"So as long as she can't hear it, you're allowed to do it?"

Hilary caught hold of his sleeve.

"Oliver, stop fighting for now. Paula just stabilized. She can't handle any stress."

I looked at her.

"Then why did you come?"

Her face went a little pale.

"I was just worried about Paula."

"Worried enough to bring the cat?"

Hilary stepped back at once, tears brimming in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I thought she liked Fluffy, I wanted to make her happy. Since everything I do is wrong, I'll just go."

Oliver locked his hand around her wrist.

"No one told you to go."

He turned to me, his voice colder.

"Hilary had a bad scare last night and still came to see the child. You won't let this end until you've made her cry?"

The monitor let out a sharp string of beeps.

A nurse hurried in and checked the readings.

"The child's heart rate is climbing. Please, no arguing in here."

I shut my mouth right away.

Oliver, though, called the doctor out into the hall.

"When can she be transferred?"

"I don't advise moving her now," the doctor said. "The child is showing signs of sepsis. Any transport could raise the risk."

"The Farley family's private physician thinks you're overmedicating her. I've already arranged another hospital."

"Mr. Farley, a patient isn't an object. You can't move her around on an appointment."

I pushed through the door.

"I don't agree to the transfer."

Oliver looked at me.

"They can't even control the basic risks here."

"At least the doctors here come running when she's critical."

"Bianca."

He caught my wrist gently, the pressure held back, but his tone left no room for discussion.

"Don't make decisions for her out of emotion."

"Her attending physician says she can't be moved."

"Three o'clock this afternoon. An ambulance will come."

"I won't sign."

"I'm her father. I have just as much say."

At two fifty that afternoon, the people Oliver had arranged arrived.

Paula was still on oxygen as they lifted her onto the transport bed.

She was terrified, but she didn't dare cry. She only reached out and gripped the hem of my shirt.

"Mommy, I won't be any trouble to Daddy."

"Don't be scared. Mommy's here."

Oliver stood by the elevator and took the risk-consent form the nurse handed him.

"It's only a twenty-minute drive. There's no need to blow it out of proportion."

The elevator had barely dropped one floor when Paula went into violent convulsions.

The monitor alarmed again and again.

The doctor slammed the stop button.

"Blood oxygen's dropping. Back to the ICU, now!"

The transport team ran the bed back the way it came.

Oliver's phone rang at the same moment.

Hilary was standing downstairs, her voice frantic.

"Oliver, someone from the press got a photo of me coming to the hospital with you. They're asking if I'm Paula's mother. What am I supposed to say?"

Oliver answered as he kept pace with the bed.

"Don't explain anything. I'll handle it."

A few minutes later, a message from him showed up in the family group chat.

"Hilary is someone I'm responsible for looking after. Please don't give her a hard time. Bianca has been emotionally unstable lately. Regarding the child's condition, treat only the information I release as accurate."

I finished reading and looked up at him.

"This emotional instability you're talking about, does it mean I won't gamble our daughter's life to go along with your plans?"

Oliver didn't answer.

A nurse rushed out of the ICU.

"The child needs an emergency platelet transfusion. She has a rare blood type. Immediate family, get typed right now."

Oliver and I both put out our arms at the same time.

Ten minutes later, the results came back.

The nurse read the report and walked briskly straight to him.

"Mr. Farley, you're the only match."