Isabella's POV
The world tilted sideways.
"What do you mean she's crashing?" My voice came out as a whisper, but inside I was screaming.
The nurse grabbed my hand. "Her heart rate dropped suddenly. The doctors are with her now, but you need to come immediately."
"I have to go." I turned to Marco. "I have to leave. Right now."
"Isabella, your shift isn't over for another three hours."
"My daughter is dying!" The words ripped out of me, loud enough that people turned to stare.
Marco's face softened. "Go. Just go."
I ran.
The nurse led me through the club, past the curious faces, past the music, past Alexander who stood up from his table as I rushed by. I didn't stop. Couldn't stop.
My baby needed me.
We burst through the front doors into the cool night air. The nurse's car was parked right outside.
"Get in. I'll drive you."
The hospital was only ten minutes away, but it felt like hours. Every red light was torture. Every slow car made me want to scream.
"What happened?" I asked, my voice shaking. "She was fine when I left her. She was talking and smiling and—"
"Sometimes with heart conditions, things can change very quickly." The nurse—her name tag said Rebecca—gripped the steering wheel tighter. "The doctors are doing everything they can."
Everything they can. Those words were supposed to comfort me, but they didn't. They terrified me.
We pulled up to the emergency entrance. I didn't wait for Rebecca to park. I jumped out while the car was still moving and ran through the automatic doors.
The third floor had never seemed so far away. The elevator was too slow. I hit the button five times, six times, like that would make it move faster.
Finally, the doors opened on Sofia's floor.
Dr. Patel was waiting outside room 314. His face told me everything before he even opened his mouth.
"Mrs. Martinez—"
"It's Miss. And what's happening? Where's Sofia? I need to see her!"
He held up his hands. "She's stable right now. But Isabella, we need to talk."
"I don't want to talk. I want to see my daughter."
"Two minutes. Please." Dr. Patel guided me to the small waiting room. "Sit down."
I sat, but every muscle in my body wanted to run to Sofia's room.
"Sofia's heart is getting weaker. The medication isn't working anymore." He paused, and I knew what was coming. I'd known for weeks. "She needs a transplant. Soon. Without it..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.
"How soon?"
"Days. Maybe a week if we're lucky."
A week. My baby had a week to live unless a donor heart became available.
"What are the chances?" I asked, even though I didn't want to know the answer.
"For a child her age and blood type?" Dr. Patel looked down at his hands. "Not good. The waiting list is long, and matches are rare."
"So what do I do? Just wait? Just hope someone else's child dies so mine can live?"
"There is another option." He pulled out some papers. "There's an experimental surgery. Very expensive. Very risky. But it might buy Sofia more time."
"How expensive?"
"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
I laughed. Actually laughed. It was either that or cry.
"I have three hundred dollars in my bank account," I said. "I work two jobs and I can barely afford her current hospital bills. Where am I supposed to get two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?"
"There are payment plans. Loans. Fundraisers—"
"By tomorrow? By next week?" I stood up. "You said she has days, Dr. Patel. How am I supposed to raise that kind of money in days?"
He had no answer. Because there was no answer.
I walked out of the waiting room and straight to Sofia's room. The door was open. Machines beeped around her bed. Tubes and wires connected to her small body. But her eyes were closed and her chest was rising and falling.
She was alive.
I sat in the chair next to her bed and took her hand. It was warm. Real. My baby was still here.
"I won't let you go," I whispered. "I don't care what I have to do. I'll find a way to save you. I promise."
But how? How was I supposed to get that kind of money?
I could sell everything I owned. That might get me a few thousand. I could take out loans, but no bank would give me that much. I could start a fundraiser online, but those took time. Time Sofia didn't have.
The door opened behind me. I turned, expecting a nurse.
It was Alexander.
"What are you doing here?" I stood up, putting myself between him and Sofia's bed.
"The nurse said your daughter was sick." His eyes moved past me to Sofia, and something changed in his face. "How old is she?"
My heart stopped. "That's none of your business."
"Isabella." He stepped closer. "How old?"
"Five. She's five years old. Now leave."
But he didn't leave. He stared at Sofia like he was doing math in his head. His face went pale.
"Is she mine?"
Three words. Three simple words that destroyed everything.
"Get out."
"Answer the question." His voice was harder now. Demanding. "Is that my daughter?"
"You left me!" I hissed, trying to keep my voice down so I wouldn't wake Sofia. "You disappeared for six years. You don't get to come back now and ask questions!"
"I came back! I looked for you!"
"Not hard enough!" Tears burned my eyes. "I was pregnant and alone and terrified. I had no one. No money. No help. Where were you?"
Alexander ran his hands through his hair. He looked shaken. Lost.
"Does she know about me?"
"She asks about her daddy every single day." My voice cracked. "Every single day she wants to know why her father doesn't love her. And every single day I have to lie and tell her you would come if you could."
He moved closer to the bed. Closer to Sofia. I wanted to push him away, but I couldn't make myself move.
"What's wrong with her?" he asked quietly.
"Her heart is failing. She needs a transplant or an experimental surgery that costs a quarter of a million dollars." I laughed bitterly. "So unless you have that kind of money lying around, there's nothing you can do."
Alexander turned to look at me. His face was different now. Serious. Scary, even.
"I can get you the money."
"What?"
"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I can have it by tomorrow morning."
Hope exploded in my chest, so bright it hurt. "Are you serious?"
"Yes. But there's a condition."
The hope died just as quickly. "What condition?"
Alexander's eyes met mine, and I saw the ruthless businessman. The mobster Vanessa had warned me about.
"Marry me, Isabella. Marry me, and I'll save our daughter's life."