The hospital room smelled like antiseptic and worry.
Emma sat beside her mother's bed, gripping her frail fingers as the heart monitor beeped steadily. Pneumonia, the doctor had said. Aggressive. Treatable—but expensive.
Emma didn't blink when she heard the soft knock behind her.
She didn't have to turn around.
“You shouldn't be here," she said.
Ryan stepped into the room anyway.
“I heard," he said softly. “About your mother."
She didn't look at him. “From your investigator?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he placed a folder on the windowsill.
“It's covered. The best care. Private specialists. All bills routed through a foundation I set up under another name. No paper trail to you."
Emma stood slowly. “Why now?"
“I want to help."
“You want leverage."
His eyes met hers. “If you re
