Chapter 8 - The Maybach
Julian’s driver practically flew the sleek black Maybach through the slick, rain-soaked streets of downtown Chicago. In the back seat, Clara was curled into a tight ball, trembling violently.
Julian sat beside her, radiating a calm, grounding energy. He didn't offer empty platitudes. He didn't tell her it would be fine. Instead, he reached across the leather seat and gently took her freezing hand in his warm one.
Clara looked down at their joined hands, shocked by the gesture, but she didn't pull away. She gripped his fingers like a lifeline.
"He's all I have," Clara whispered into the dark car, her voice cracking. "If I lose him... I have nothing."
"You aren't going to lose him," Julian said fiercely. "I won't let that happen."
They arrived at the emergency room, tires screeching against the pavement. Clara bolted from the car before it even fully stopped, rushing through the sliding glass doors into the chaotic ER waiting room.
"Leo Vance!" she yelled to the triage nurse. "Where is he?"
"He's in critical condition, Miss. Room 4," the nurse said gently. "The doctors are stabilizing him."
Clara ran to Room 4. Through the glass, she saw her little brother hooked up to a terrifying array of machines, a clear mask strapped to his pale face. He looked so small. Clara pressed her hands against the glass, sobbing uncontrollably.
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Julian stood a few feet behind her. He watched the woman who had carried the weight of the world on her shoulders finally break under it. He pulled his phone out again, dialing the hospital's Chief of Medicine.
"This is Julian Hayes," he said coldly. "I have a boy in your ER named Leo Vance. Move him to your VIP pediatric wing immediately. Bring in your best pulmonologist. Spare absolutely no expense."
