Natalie's POV
The ventilator hisses like it's mocking me.
In. Out. In. Out.
My father's chest rises and falls, but it's the machine doing the work. Dad's just... there. Somewhere between living and giving up.
"Miss Hartley." Dr. Patel's voice makes me flinch. I didn't hear him come in. "We need to talk."
I don't want to talk. I want to rewind three months. Back before the FBI agents showed up at our house. Before the news cameras camped outside. Before the words "fraud" and "embezzlement" became attached to my father's name like a disease.
"His heart can't take much more stress," Dr. Patel says, glancing at the monitors. "The arrest triggered the first heart attack. The seizure of company assets triggered the second. If there's another major blow—"
"He'll die." I finish for him, because I'm tired of doctors dancing around the truth.
Dr. Patel's silence is answer enough.
My phone vibrates in my lap. Another text from the hospital billing department. Another number I can't pay. I've already sold my car, my jewelry, my designer clothes. I work three jobs and it's still not enough.
Nothing is ever enough.
"How long does he have?" I ask. "If the company goes under? If the trial happens?"
"Weeks. Maybe less." Dr. Patel adjusts his glasses. "Miss Hartley, your father needs peace. He needs hope. Without it, his body will just... stop fighting."
The company auction is in three weeks. Once it's sold, Dad will have nothing left. Forty years of building Hartley Pharmaceuticals, gone. And with it, his will to live.
I'm watching my father die in slow motion, and I can't stop it.
"Thank you, Doctor." My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.
When he leaves, I move closer to Dad's bed. His hand is cold when I take it. The machines beep their steady rhythm—the sound of borrowed time running out.
"I don't know how to save you," I whisper. "I've tried everything. The lawyers say the evidence is overwhelming. The banks won't give us loans. Everyone we thought was a friend has disappeared."
Dad doesn't answer. He hasn't been conscious in four days.
"Gregory did this to us." Saying his name makes my stomach turn. My father's business partner. The man who smiled at our family dinners while he stole fifty million dollars. The man who framed my father and vanished to Singapore. "And everyone believes him instead of you."
My phone buzzes again. I almost ignore it—just another bill I can't pay.
But the number is unknown.
Something makes me answer. "Hello?"
"Miss Natalie Hartley?" A woman's voice. Professional. Cold.
"Yes?"
"My employer has a proposition for you. One that could solve your current financial difficulties."
I should hang up. This is probably a scam. But desperate people don't have the luxury of being careful.
"I'm listening."
"Not over the phone. Meet me at the Langham Hotel tonight. Suite 4000. Eight PM sharp."
"Who's your employer?"
"Someone who can save your father's company. Someone with the resources you desperately need." A pause. "Come alone, Miss Hartley. This offer expires at 8:01 PM."
The line goes dead.
I stare at my phone, heart pounding. This is insane. Meeting a stranger at a hotel based on a mysterious phone call? I should delete the number and forget this ever happened.
But my eyes drift back to Dad. To the machines. To the man who's dying because I can't save him.
Someone who can save your father's company.
What if it's real?
What if this is the miracle I've been praying for?
My phone buzzes with a text from the same unknown number: The Langham. Suite 4000. 8 PM. Your father's life depends on what you decide.
My hands start shaking.
Because whoever sent this knows exactly how desperate I am. They know about Dad. About the company. About the fact that I'm drowning and there's no one left to pull me up.
This could be my only chance.
Or it could be a trap.
I look at my father one more time. At the machines keeping him alive. At the man who taught me to be brave even when I'm terrified.
"I'll fix this, Dad," I promise. "Whatever it takes."
I stand up, grab my coat, and head for the door. My mind is already racing with questions. Who called me? What kind of proposition requires a secret hotel meeting? Why now, when I'm at my most desperate?
The elevator ride down feels like falling. The hospital lobby blurs past. I'm in my beat-up Honda before I realize I've made my decision.
I'm going to that hotel.
Because what choice do I have?
My father is dying. The company is being seized in three weeks. I have seventeen dollars in my bank account and a stack of unpaid bills that grows every day.
If there's even a one percent chance this mysterious offer is real, I have to take it.
Even if it destroys me.
I pull out of the parking lot as the sun sets over Chicago, painting the sky the color of blood and bruises. The Langham Hotel is on the other side of the city—the side where people like me don't belong anymore.
My phone sits in the cup holder, screen dark, hiding secrets I'm about to uncover.
Suite 4000. 8 PM.
I have two hours to decide if I'm brave or just stupid.
Two hours before my life changes forever.
Because whoever is waiting in that hotel suite knows something I don't. They have power I don't. And they want something from me badly enough to make this offer.
The question that terrifies me most isn't what do they want?
It's what will I be willing to give them to save my father?
I press harder on the accelerator.
I guess I'm about to find out.