The doctor took a seat beside the administrator, folding his hands together.
"That woman has been diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis — a progressive lung disease that causes scarring of the lung tissue. Over ti, this scarring makes it increasingly difficult for the lungs to function properly. In her case, the disease has advanced to a critical stage, where her oxygen levels are dangerously low even at rest."
Ethan's jaw tightened slightly.
He had heard of the condition before, when he was still in University It wasn't sothing that could be treated with simple dication.
"The scarring is irreversible," the doctor continued, his voice asured. "At this point, the only viable treatnt is a double lung transplant. Without it, she will continue to deteriorate until her lungs can no longer provide enough oxygen to sustain her body."
Ethan listened intently, his fingers lightly tapping against the armrest of the chair.
"The first step," the doctor went on, "is to stabilize her condition while we prepare for the surgery. She will be placed on high-flow oxygen therapy and monitored closely to prevent further complications. Given how advanced the disease is, she may also need ventilatory support if her breathing worsens."
He gestured toward the dical file on the desk. "We have already registered her in the transplant database, and there is a high-priority match available. However, as you are aware, lung transplants are extrely delicate. The operation itself will take anywhere from 10 to 12 hours, with multiple surgeons working in tandem to ensure a successful transplantation."
Ethan narrowed his eyes slightly. "And the risks?"
"The biggest risk is organ rejection. Even with a perfect donor match, there is always a chance that the body will reject the new lungs. To minimize this, she will need to be on immunosuppressive dication for life. The first 72 hours after the transplant are the most critical, as that is when acute rejection is most likely to occur."
The administrator cleared her throat, flipping to another page. "Beyond the surgery, there are post-operative expenses. She will require at least three weeks in intensive care, followed by months of rehabilitation. She will need regular pulmonary function tests, physical therapy, and strict monitoring to ensure the new lungs are functioning properly."
Ethan's gaze flicked to the paper in front of him.
[600,000 dollars.]
A few years ago, that number would have been insurmountable. Now, it was just another transaction.
He exhaled slowly and nodded. "I'll cover everything."
The doctor hesitated slightly, it wasn't the first ti Ethan had said that today but still... his eyebrows lifting. "Are you sure, Mr. Grey?"
"If I wasn't, I wouldn't be here," Ethan said firmly.
The administrator typed sothing into her computer, then slid a docunt across the desk. "These are the hospital's banking details. Once the transfer is complete, we will proceed imdiately with the pre-surgical treatnts and move her to the top of the transplant priority list."
Ethan picked up the paper, glanced at it, then pulled out his phone.
He entered the details, typed in the amount, and without hesitation, pressed confirm.
A mont later, his screen flashed:
[Transaction Successful.]
He turned his phone toward the administrator. "It's done."
Her computer beeped, and after a few keystrokes, she straightened in her chair. "Paynt confird."
The doctor stood, his expression more serious now. "You've just given her the best possible chance, Mr. Grey. Thank you."
Ethan simply nodded. "Make sure she gets the best."
With that, he stood and walked out.
Ethan stepped out of the administration office with a smile. He had done what needed to be done.
As he walked through the sterile white halls, his footsteps echoed in the silence, but he didn't turn toward Riley's mother's room. This wasn't his mont.
The family needed ti together — ti to process what was happening, ti to hope. He had given them a chance, and that was enough for now.
With a sigh, he stepped out of the hospital doors, the fresh city air greeting him with a mix of car exhaust and the distant scent of coffee from a nearby stand.
He rolled his shoulders, glancing up at the towering skyscrapers of Silicon City.
"Well," he murmured to himself, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I've got ti to kill."
A yellow taxi pulled up near the curb, and Ethan raised a hand to hail it.
The driver, a middle-aged man with sunglasses and a thick mustache, leaned out the window.
"Where to?"
Ethan smirked. "Surprise ."
The driver chuckled. "A tourist, huh?"
"Sothing like that," Ethan replied as he slid into the backseat.
The taxi peeled away from the hospital, rging into the bustling traffic of Silicon City.
From the window, Ethan watched as the world outside moved like a well-oiled machine — businessn rushing down sidewalks, street vendors calling out to custors, massive billboards flashing advertisents for the latest tech gadgets.
This place was alive in a way Greyport wasn't.
It was bigger, bolder, and made him wonder what it was like to expand here – well that was when he was done with the Casino.
While Ethan disappeared into the heartbeat of the city, Riley sat by her mother's bedside, her fingers curled tightly around her hand.
Her father stood at the foot of the bed, his jaw tense, while Oliver leaned against the wall, arms crossed, lost in thought.
Every second felt like an eternity.
The rhythmic beeping of the machines filled the silence as Riley's mother remained unconscious, her breathing shallow.
Then the door opened.
Riley snapped her head up as the doctor entered, clipboard in hand, an unreadable expression on his face.
The tension in the room thickened instantly.
"Miss Riley. Mr. Robert. Oliver." The doctor nodded to each of them before clearing his throat. "I have so updates."
Her father straightened, his fingers clenching slightly. "Go on."
The doctor flipped through his notes, then t their gazes. "Mr. Grey has officially covered the full cost of the operation."
Silence.
Riley's grip on her mother's hand tightened as tears welled in her eyes. She had heard him say he would do it, but so part of her hadn't been able to believe it until now.
Her father looked down, exhaling a long, shaky breath.
Oliver rubbed his temples, still trying to process the sheer weight of the amount Ethan had just handed over without a second thought.
"What does this an?" Riley whispered.
The doctor softened. "It ans we can begin prioritizing her treatnt imdiately. We've already arranged for her transfer to our best surgical team, and preparations are being made to move her to the operating room."
Riley swallowed the lump in her throat. "How soon?"
"Within the next hour," the doctor confird. "Everything is moving quickly now. She's been placed at the top of the transplant list, and we've already identified a viable donor. The surgery will be long and complex, but this gives her the best possible chance."
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