Chapter 2

2: 2

The next day, a rare downpour hit the city.

I swallowed two heavy-duty stomach pills, took an umbrella, and went to the hospital to close out my father's account for good.

I'd barely stepped into the lobby when Julian Simmons's post lit up my phone.

In the photo he sat in a warmly decorated VIP recovery suite, an expensive nutrition tray on the table.

The caption read: 【She says rules are dead, but people are alive. Thank you to a certain someone for breaking every line for me.】

I stared at the screen until my eyes stung.

That ward was the one Lucretia had promised to keep for my father's recovery after surgery.

She'd said the waitlist ran a full year, that no one could jump the line.

But less than a day after my father died, Julian had moved in.

So it wasn't that the rules couldn't be broken. It was that my father hadn't been worth breaking them for.

I went to the window and handed over the death certificate and the health insurance card.

After checking them, the clerk told me there was still a batch of imported post-op medication under my father's name that needed a signature to be returned.

I'd just taken the confirmation form when Lucretia's voice came from behind me.

"It can't be returned."

She walked up with Julian at her side and pulled the form straight out of my hand.

"Julian's numbers are abnormal. This batch is exactly what he needs. Since Dad already gave up on treatment, the resources should go to someone who needs them more."

She held the pen out to me.

"Sign. I'll handle the rest for you."

Watching how entitled she looked, I suddenly laughed.

"Lucretia, this is my father's life-saving medication."

"He missed his own slot. Naturally the medication gets reallocated."

Lucretia frowned, her tone impatient.

"Don't use public resources as a tool for your sulking."

"He didn't miss his slot. He didn't live long enough to reach it."

Her face went cold in an instant.

"How much longer are you going to keep telling that lie?"

Julian glanced at the health insurance card in my hand and said softly,

"Lucretia, let it go. That was something Uncle left behind, after all. It's normal that Connor can't part with it. I can hold out a little longer."

Lucretia clamped her hand around my wrist and forced the pen into my grip.

"Julian can't wait. Sign, now."

A sharp, twisting pain tore through my stomach.

My face went white, my hand went to my belly on instinct, and the pen dropped to the floor.

Lucretia glanced down at it and still didn't let go.

"Faking illness to stall for time again?"

She snatched the confirmation form and said coldly to the clerk at the window,

"I'm the patient's daughter-in-law and his attending physician. If he won't sign, I will."

The clerk looked uneasy.

"Director James, this doesn't follow the rules."

"Special cases get special handling. If there's a problem, I'll take responsibility."

Hearing that, I felt an overwhelming sense of absurdity.

When my father's life hung by a thread, she'd said arriving even one minute early would break the process.

Now, for Julian, she was ready to override the signature of the dead man's own family.

I yanked the health insurance card back.

"This card already has a cancellation request filed. No one is touching a cent inside it."

Lucretia's face darkened.

"You'd cancel Dad's health insurance account, just to spite me?"

She stared at me, her tone growing more impatient.

"Which hospital did you transfer him to?"

I didn't answer. I turned and walked out into the downpour.

Lucretia chased to the door and ordered, her voice low,

"Connor, come back. I'll take you to get checked."

But Julian suddenly clutched his chest and let himself slump against her shoulder.

Her steps stopped at once.

Behind me her voice rose, anxious, calling for a nurse.

I didn't look back.

Cold rain ran down my pant legs, and the pain in my stomach kept getting worse.

I took a cab, alone, to the nearest gastroenterology specialty hospital.