“I need help,” he shouted, his voice raw. “Now.”
Nurses appeared with practiced urgency. One of them looked from Lila to Ethan.
“What happened.”
“She collapsed outside my house,” he said. “She would not respond.”
“Any medical history.”
Ethan froze.
“I do not know,” he admitted, shame burning his throat.
They wheeled her away.
The boys crashed into his legs, clinging like anchors.
“Do not let them take her,” Noah begged.
Ethan crouched, pulling them close. “She is not alone,” he said, even as doubt gnawed at him. “I promise.”
Promises had always come easily in business. This one felt heavier.
He called the house supervisor, a woman named Ruth Ellison, whose calm usually solved everything.
“Something is wrong,” Ethan said. “Lila collapsed. We are at Riverside.”
There was a pause.
Then Ruth spoke slowly. “Sir, I need to be honest. She has fainted before. Twice this week.”
Ethan closed his eyes. “Why did no one tell me.”
“She asked us not to,” Ruth said quietly. “She said she could not afford to see a doctor.”
The words landed like a blow. Ethan stared at the sterile wall. He had a private chef, a driver, a gym he never used. And the woman caring for his children had been afraid of a medical bill.