The nurse’s face was grave. “Mrs. Heath has undergone a second round of sutures. The procedure went as well as we could have hoped, but she needs strict bed rest now. If her wound tears open again, she could be left infertile for life.”
Steven’s jaw tightened. “Do whatever it takes—only the finest medicine, the best care. Spare no expense.”
“Please rest easy, Mr. Heath. She’s receiving the best treatment available,” the nurse assured him.
At that moment, Mr. Anderson hurried in, his voice trembling with worry. “How’s Lucie?”
A stab of guilt pierced Steven. “Grandpa, there was a complication, but the doctors were able to stabilize her. She’s out of immediate danger.”
“If anything happens to Lucie, I won’t forgive you,” the old man warned, his eyes steely.
“She’ll be fine, Grandpa. I promise.”
“She’d better be.”
Mr. Anderson drew in a shaky breath, eyes clouded with anxiety as he gazed toward the hospital room.
He couldn’t go inside. All he could do was watch the monitor, heart aching at the sight of his granddaughter lying so still, surrounded by cold machines and tangled wires.
Helpless, he could only pray for her recovery.
***
By eleven that night, Mr. Anderson, exhausted by age and worry, returned to his VIP suite to rest.
Steven stayed behind, rooted outside the ICU, the weight of the world pressing down on him.
Fortune was won by those who dared.



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