HIS PRINCESS

CHAPTER 5

The rest of the evening passed quietly. Kiara returned to her dance practice while Ariana sketched rough ideas for the Sebastian's mural, though her heart wasn't in it. At 10:30, they turned off the lights and went to their respective bedrooms.

But sleep wouldn't come. Ariana lay awake staring at the ceiling, listening to the occasional car pass outside. After an hour, she got up for a glass of water and found Kiara still awake too, sitting at the kitchen table with the USB drive in her hand.

"Can't sleep?" Ariana asked as she filled her glass.

Kiara shook her head. "I keep thinking about that truck at the warehouse. What was in it? Who sent it?"

Ariana sat across from her. "We'll know more tomorrow." She reached for the drive. "Let me put this somewhere safe."

She tucked it into her purse by the door, then turned back to Kiara. "Try to get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

Kiara nodded and stood, giving Ariana a quick hug before heading back to bed. Ariana checked the locks one more time, then followed suit.

---

Ariana woke Kiara early the next morning. "You're going back to school today," she said, pulling open the curtains to let in the morning light.

Kiara groaned, rubbing her eyes. "But what about the USB drive? What about Dad?"

"Martin will handle it. Your midterms are more important." Ariana tossed a clean uniform onto Kiara's bed. "I already packed your bag. Your train leaves in an hour."

Kiara sat up, scowling. "This isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair," Ariana said simply. "Now get ready."

After seeing Kiara off at the train station, Ariana took a bus to the hospital. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air as she walked through the automatic doors. At the nurse's station, she asked after her grandfather's attending physician --- Dr. Raphael.

One of the nurses directed her to the doctor's office after confirming he wasn't consulting with any patient. "I'm afraid his heart failure has progressed," he said, adjusting his glasses. "We need to schedule a transplant immediately—if we can find a donor in time."

Ariana's stomach dropped. "How much will it cost?"

"The initial deposit is 1.5 million dollars. That doesn't include post-op care or immunosuppressants." The doctor hesitated. "And even with the money... finding a compatible donor could take months. Time he may not have."

Ariana gripped the edge of the counter to steady herself. "What happens if we can't pay?"

The doctor's expression said everything.

Ariana sat stiffly in Dr. Rapheal's office, her fingers tracing the edge of the medical file on the desk between them. The overhead lights reflected off the doctor's glasses as he spoke.

"Dr. Chandler Scott is the only surgeon with the necessary expertise to handle your grandfather's case," Dr. Raphael said, tapping the file. "But he maintains no public office and accepts patients strictly by referral."

Ariana studied the EKG printout peeking from the folder. "How do we get referred?"

"Through his surgical review board at Mercy General. They meet weekly to assess cases." Dr. Raphael removed his glasses. "Even if accepted, the $1.5 million deposit must be secured before he'll operate."

Ariana calculated the numbers in her head - her art sales, Kiara's scholarship stipend, the dwindling remains of their father's accounts. It wouldn't cover a fraction.

"Where does he consult?" she pressed.

"His private clinic isn't disclosed. Even most hospital staff don't know its location." Dr. Raphael hesitated. "There's a saying among residents - Chandler Scott finds you, not the other way around."

Ariana stood, smoothing her jeans. "Then I'll make sure he finds me."

Outside the hospital, she scrolled through her contacts before stopping at Sebastian Harris's number. Her thumb hovered over the call button. The morning sun reflected off her phone screen as she considered the unspoken bargain she might be making.

The bus arrived with a hiss of brakes. As Ariana boarded, she slipped the phone back in her pocket - for now. First, she'd try the official channels. The Mercy General receptionist gave her a clipboard with referral forms when she arrived.

"The Review board meets Thursday," the woman said without looking up. "But there are no guarantees."

Ariana filled out the forms in the waiting room, detailing her grandfather's deteriorating condition. The pen scratched against the paper as she wrote, each word feeling increasingly inadequate to summon the attention of a surgeon who chose patients like a curator selecting art.

She handed the completed forms back, watching as they disappeared into a slot marked "Surgical Review." The receptionist gave a perfunctory nod. "You'll get a response by mail in 2-3 weeks."

Ariana walked out into the afternoon glare, knowing her grandfather might not have that long time. At the bus stop, she finally pulled out her phone and made the call she'd been avoiding.

"Mr. Harris," she said when the line connected. "About that mural commission - I'd like to discuss expanding the project."

The pause on the line told her he understood exactly what she was really asking.

Ariana stood at the bus stop, the phone pressed to her ear as she waited for Sebastian Harris to respond. The line crackled slightly before his smooth voice came through.

"Miss Ross," he said. "I assume this isn't just about the mural."

"No," she admitted. "I need your help with something else."

A brief pause. "I'm listening."

She kept her voice steady. "My grandfather needs heart surgery. The only surgeon who can do it is Chandler Scott."

Another silence. Then Sebastian Harris spoke, his tone calm. "Dr. Scott doesn't take patients easily."

"I know. But I thought you might have... connections."

The bus approached, its brakes hissing. Ariana stepped back as it stopped in front of her, the doors sliding open. She didn't board.

Sebastian Harris exhaled softly. "Come to my office tomorrow at noon. We'll talk then."

The call ended. Ariana lowered the phone, watching the bus pull away. She checked the time—still early enough to visit her grandfather before visiting hours ended.

At the hospital, she found him awake, propped up slightly in bed. His breathing was labored, but he managed a weak smile when he saw her.

"How's little Kee?" he asked. 'Little Kee was the name Kiara was fondly addressed as' by their father and grandfather

Ariana nodded, adjusting his blanket. "She left this morning."

He studied her face. "You look tired."

She forced a smile. "Just busy with work."

He didn't press further, but his gaze lingered, as if he knew she wasn’t telling him everything.

When visiting hours ended, the nurse gently reminded her it was time to leave. Ariana squeezed her grandfather’s hand before walking out.

Back at her apartment, she checked her messages—nothing from Martin Cole about the USB drive yet. She reheated leftover stir-fry and ate standing at the kitchen counter, her mind on tomorrow’s meeting with Sebastian Harris.

After washing her plate, she pulled out her sketchbook and began rough drafts for the mural, though her heart wasn’t in it. At midnight, she finally turned off the lights and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

---

Ariana sat stiffly in the leather chair across from Sebastian Harris' polished mahogany desk. The afternoon sun streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, glinting off the crystal paperweight holding down her grandfather's medical bills.

Sebastian Harris poured two glasses of bourbon from a decanter, sliding one toward her. "You wanted to discuss terms," he said, his tailored suit jacket stretching slightly as he leaned back.

She left the glass untouched. "My grandfather needs—"

"Chandler Scott." Sebastian Harris took a slow sip. "The deposit alone is 1.5 million. Then there's your father's legal defense—another 750,000 minimum for a proper team."

Ariana's throat tightened. "What exactly are you implying?"

He set down his glass with deliberate steadiness. "Five years as my companion. You'll live in my private villa, attend functions when required, and warm my bed whenever I desire." His gaze didn't waver. "No other obligations or restrictions on your daily activities."

Ariana's fingers curled around the chair arms. "You're asking me to sell myself to you."

"I'm offering a business arrangement," Sebastian Harris corrected calmly. "200,000 monthly deposited into a private account. After five years, you walk away debt-free with references if you want them."

Ariana stood abruptly, her chair scraping across the hardwood. "You're impossible."

Sebastian Harris didn't move. "I'm transparent. The hospital won't hold your grandfather's spot indefinitely. Think carefully before refusing."