“We’re sorry, Mr. Harrington. There’s nothing more we can do.”
Maria entered quietly, holding a tea tray that shook in her hands.
“Sir… would you like some tea? It might help you calm down.”
Jonathan looked up, his eyes red and swollen.
“Tea won’t save my daughter,” he snapped, though the power was gone from his voice.
For the first time, Maria saw the truth behind all that wealth. The richest man in the country was helpless before a dying child.
That night, while the mansion slept in suffocating silence, Maria stayed awake. She rocked Lily gently, feeling how cold and light the baby had become, her breathing shallow, like a candle starving for air.
And then a memory surfaced—one she hadn’t allowed herself to touch in years.
Her brother had once suffered from a similar illness, his lungs failing while hospitals turned him away. What saved him hadn’t been money or modern medicine, but an old, forgotten doctor living far from cities and corporations.
A man pushed aside by pharmaceutical giants because he refused to bend his ethics. His methods weren’t approved. They weren’t profitable. But they worked.