The medical wing looked more like a luxury hotel than a hospital. Soft lighting replaced harsh fluorescents, and the antiseptic smell mixed with something floral. No beeping monitors or squeaking gurneys disturbed the silence.
"Your mother's doing well with the transfer," Dr. Chen said. "We've set her up in one of our best rooms."
Jack's fingers traced the wood paneling as they walked. "Better than Ashton General, I'm guessing?"
"The facilities here are state of the art. We have equipment most hospitals can't afford."
They passed what looked like an operating room, its surfaces gleaming through glass walls. Jack glimpsed machines he'd never seen before, their displays dark and waiting.
"Here we are." Dr. Chen paused at a door that could have belonged in a five-star suite. "She's been asking for you."
Jack's hand froze on the handle. Through the door's window, he saw his mother propped up in a bed that probably cost more than their car. She looked small against the pristine sheets, but her color seemed better already. The sight of her in this alien setting made his chest tight.
"Thank you, doc," Jack said, pushing the door open.
"Hi mom." He worked to keep his smile steady.
"My love." His mother's eyes found him in the doorway. "Come closer, my dear. I guess you really did get my stupid old man to change his ways." Her smile dissolved into coughing, and Jack bolted to her side.
"Please, Mom, take it easy," he murmured, helping her sit up and adjusting the pillow at her back.
The door clicked shut as Dr. Chen entered, her tablet tucked under one arm. She pulled up a chair beside Eliza's bed, her movements fluid and practiced.
"How's the pain level, Eliza? Scale of one to ten?"
"Four, maybe? Much better than before." His mother's voice carried more strength than Jack had heard in weeks.
"The new medication protocol is working then." Dr. Chen tapped her screen. "Your vitals have stabilized since the transfer, and the preliminary scans show promising results."
Jack leaned forward. "What kind of results?"
"The tumor markers are responding to the targeted therapy we started." Dr. Chen's eyes met Jack's. "We have access to treatments here that aren't available anywhere else in the country. Some aren't even on the market yet."
"Experimental?" Jack's jaw tightened.
"FDA-approved, but exclusive." Dr. Chen's smile softened. "Your grandfather's pharmaceutical division developed them. The success rates are remarkable."
Eliza reached for Jack's hand. "It's okay, love. Dr. Chen explained everything."
"The cancer has spread, yes." Dr. Chen's voice remained steady. "But we can fight it. The combination of immunotherapy and targeted radiation should shrink the tumors. Then surgery to remove what's left."
"And the chances?" Jack's throat felt dry.
"With these treatments? Seventy percent survival rate at five years. And those numbers improve every day as we refine the protocols."
Jack's grip on his mother's hand tightened. Seventy percent. In Ashton, they'd offered nothing but palliative care.
"The next few months won't be easy," Dr. Chen continued. "The treatments are aggressive. There will be bad days. But Eliza is strong, and she has you."
"When do we start?" His mother's voice carried that familiar determination.
"First round begins tomorrow morning. We'll monitor you closely, adjust as needed." Dr. Chen stood, smoothing her coat. "For now, rest. Let the current medications do their work. Your body needs strength for what's ahead."
Jack watched his mother's face, saw hope replace resignation in her eyes. The same eyes he saw in the mirror every morning, now bright with possibility instead of pain.
"I'll check back in a few hours." Dr. Chen paused at the door. "Jack, the staff can bring you anything you need. You're family now."
Family. The word echoed in his head as the door closed behind her. He looked around the room - at the expensive medical equipment, the silk sheets, the view of manicured gardens through floor-to-ceiling windows. All of it purchased with the same money that could have saved his mother months ago, if only...
"Stop that." His mother's voice cut through his thoughts. "I can see you brooding."
"I'm not-"
"You are. But we're here now." She squeezed his hand. "That's what matters."
Jack nodded, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth. She was right. They were here now. And for the first time since her diagnosis, they had more than just hope - they had a real chance.
KNOCK
KNOCK
"Can I come in?" Elias's voice carried through the door.
"Yes, Father." Eliza's reply was barely audible as the door swung open, revealing his imposing figure.
Jack's muscles tensed as his grandfather entered the room. The air grew thick with decades of unspoken words. Elias moved with the same calculated precision Jack had noticed in the office, but something shifted in his face when he looked at Eliza.
The kiss on her forehead cracked his polished veneer. For a split second, Jack glimpsed raw pain beneath the power suits and empire. Then Elias spun away, his voice rough. "You stupid idiot!"
Heat surged through Jack's chest. He half-rose from his chair, ready to defend his mother, but her grip tightened on his hand. The pressure of her fingers carried years of history he couldn't understand.
"Thank you," she said softly to Elias's retreating back.
The door clicked shut. Jack stared at his mother, questions burning in his throat. But her eyes had that distant look he recognized - the one she got when remembering things she never talked about.
"Mom-"
"Not now, love." She patted his hand, her smile tired but genuine. "Some wounds need time to heal."
Jack settled back into the chair, watching his mother fight to keep her eyes open. The medication was pulling her under, but she kept forcing them back up to look at him.
"You don't have to stay awake, Mom. I'll be right here."
"Tell me about your day instead." Her words slurred slightly. "Before all this happened."
"Nothing exciting. Just the usual." He adjusted her blanket, smoothing out a wrinkle. "Mrs. Hernandez made pozole again."
"Mmm. She always knew when we needed it most." Her smile turned drowsy. "Did you save some for later?"
"Actually..." Jack ducked his head. "I never made it home to get it. Got a bit distracted breaking into a skyscraper."
Her laugh turned into a soft cough. "My little criminal. Just like your father."
"What do you mean by that?"
But her eyes had already closed, her breathing evening out. Jack leaned forward, studying her face. The new medications had already brought some color back to her cheeks. Even in sleep, she looked more peaceful than she had in weeks.
"You know," he whispered, "I used to think Dad's games were just him being silly. Hide and seek with extra rules. Learning to move without making noise." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "But they weren't games at all, were they? He was training me. And you knew."
She didn't stir, lost in whatever dreams the drugs provided.
"That's okay. You can keep your secrets a little longer." He settled deeper into the chair. "But eventually, we're going to talk about everything. About Dad. About Grandfather. About why you never told me who we really were."
The machines hummed softly, marking her steady vitals. Outside the window, the sun had begun to set, painting the manicured gardens in gold. In a few hours, they'd start the treatments that might save her life. Treatments that had been within reach all along, if only they'd known where to look.
"I'm not angry," he murmured, more to himself than her. "I just want to understand."
Her fingers twitched in sleep, and he took her hand. It felt smaller than he remembered, more fragile. But her grip was still strong, even unconscious. Still fighting. Still holding on.
"Rest well, Mom. Tomorrow's going to be a big day."