Chapter 3 - THE BOY WITH THE DINOSAUR
Toby was awake when I entered room 402.
He sat against three pillows, wearing blue pajamas covered in rockets.
Gerald the dinosaur rested on his chest.
“Lena!”
I crossed the room and hugged him carefully.
“Hey, troublemaker.”
“You smell like French fries.”
“I work in a nightclub.”
“Do they have French fries?”
“Sometimes.”
“Then bring me some.”
I laughed.
He grinned.
Then his expression changed.
“You're tired.”
“I'm fine.”
“You always say that.”
I kissed his forehead.
“Because it's true.”
Toby studied me.
Then held up Gerald.
“Gerald says you're lying.”
“Gerald is very judgmental.”
“He's a dinosaur. He's seen things.”
I laughed harder than the joke deserved.
Then Toby reached for my hand.
“Lena?”
“Yeah?”
“Am I going to die?”
The laughter disappeared.
I sat beside him.
“Why would you ask that?”
He looked down.
“I heard the doctor talking about risks.”
My throat tightened.
“Toby—”
“Don't lie.”
I stared at him.
Ten years old.
Too young to understand hospital bills.
Old enough to recognize fear.
I squeezed his hand.
“The doctors are working very hard to help your heart. There are risks, but they're doing everything they can.”
He nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
Then he whispered, “If I get better, can we go to Coney Island?”
I smiled through tears.
“We'll ride every ride.”
“Even the scary one?”
“Especially the scary one.”
He grinned.
“Gerald hates roller coasters.”
“Then Gerald can stay home.”
That afternoon, the hospital's financial coordinator called me into her office.
She explained the remaining deposit.
Twenty-two thousand dollars.
Due before the scheduled procedure could proceed under the current arrangement.
I stared at the paper.
“I can pay some of it.”
“We understand.”
“I just need more time.”
The woman looked genuinely sympathetic.
But sympathy didn't change the number.
I returned to Toby's room with the bill folded inside my purse.
That evening, my phone rang.
An unknown number.
I answered.
“Elena Vance?”
“Yes?”
“This is Margaret Ellis from the hospital's patient financial services department.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did something happen?”
“I'm calling because your brother's account has received a payment.”
I froze.
“What?”
“The outstanding deposit has been covered.”
I couldn't speak.
She continued.
“The funds were received this afternoon.”
“From whom?”
A pause.
“The donor requested anonymity.”
My heart began pounding.
I thought of the black Rolls-Royce.
The gray eyes.
The man who had waited outside the Velvet Lounge.
And suddenly I knew.
Dante Vanel had paid for my brother's surgery.
Without asking permission.
May you like
Without telling me.
And I had no idea what he expected in return.
