Chapter 5 - Emergency Extraction
The VIP pavilion of the ABC Medical Center was a world of absolute silence, expensive wood paneling, and the soft, rhythmic ticking of advanced medical monitors. It was the exact opposite of the Northside tenement. Here, the air was purified, the linens were Egyptian cotton, and three of the top specialists in Latin America were standing at the foot of Catherine’s bed.
Dr. Jorge Mendez, the chief of internal medicine and a personal friend of Victor’s for over a decade, stepped out of the room, pulling off his surgical mask. Victor was waiting in the private corridor, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his tie gone, a paper cup of black coffee cooling in his hand. Annie was asleep in the adjacent waiting room, curled up on a leather sofa beneath a warm fleece blanket provided by the nursing staff.
"How is she, Jorge?" Victor asked, his voice flat.
Mendez sighed, rubbing his eyes. "The fever is down, thanks to the broad-spectrum antibiotics we started in the rig. But Victor... the systemic damage is significant. The lack of proper immunosuppressants has allowed the lupus to attack her kidneys. She’s in stage-three renal strain. If you had found her a month later, she would have gone into complete organ failure."
Victor closed his eyes, his knuckles turning white around the paper cup. "Can we reverse it?"
"We can stabilize her," Mendez said gently, placing a hand on Victor’s shoulder. "We’ve already started her on an intensive course of monoclonal antibodies and high-dose steroids. She’s strong, Victor. Her spirit is what kept her alive in that room. She was starving herself so that the little girl could eat. The nutritional panels show severe caloric deficiency in Catherine, but Annie’s levels, while low, show that she was receiving at least some protein. Her mother was giving her everything."
Victor felt a heavy, suffocating pressure behind his ribs. "My mother spent twenty-eight thousand dollars tonight on a single spa reservation at her party, Jorge. While my wife was giving up her own food to keep my daughter alive."
"The social work department has already prepared the forensic medical report," Mendez said, his voice turning professional, objective. "By law, since this involves severe physical neglect and forged medical documents used to isolate a dependent, we had to notify the Federal Prosecutor’s office. There is a legal representative from the specialized unit for crimes against the family waiting downstairs."
"Tell them to come up," Victor said, his eyes turning cold as shards of obsidian. "I want the statement taken tonight. I want the warrants issued before the banks open in the morning."
"Victor, your mother is a powerful woman in this city’s old circle," Mendez warned softly. "She has connections in the judicial department."
"She had connections, Jorge," Victor corrected him, his voice dropping into that dark, quiet register that usually preceded a hostile corporate takeover. "Tomorrow morning, those connections will find out that my personal capital funds eighty percent of their political campaigns. Let’s see how much they love Maris Williams when her presence threatens their own survival."
He walked back into the room, stepping softly to the side of the bed. Catherine was hooked up to four different lines, her pale face illuminated by the soft green glow of the cardiac monitor. Her breathing was steady now, deep and assisted by a gentle oxygen tube.
May you like
Victor sat down in the vinyl chair beside her, taking her hand in his. Her skin was cool now, the fire of the fever finally receding under the assault of modern medicine. He held her hand against his cheek, feeling the light, frail pulse against his skin.
"I’m here, Catherine," he whispered into the quiet room. "I’m never leaving again. And the people who did this to you will never see the sun without iron bars in front of it."
