Chapter 4 - The True Cost
Warren walked slowly to the side of Sarah Pike’s bed. He looked down at her pale, still face, then at the heart monitor tracking the slow, agonizing struggle of her pulse.
Dela walked into the room just then, clutching her canvas backpack with the yarn ribbon. She stopped at the foot of the bed, her big eyes looking up at Warren.
"Is mommy going to sleep forever?" Dela asked, her lower lip trembling just a fraction.
Warren knelt down once more, right there on the hospital floor, and gently placed his hand over Dela’s small, coin-filled sandwich bag.
"No, Dela," Warren said, his voice thick with an emotion he hadn't allowed himself to feel in decades. "Your mom is going to wake up. And you can keep your four dollars."
He stood up and pulled out his encrypted satellite phone, dialing directly through to the chief of medicine at the University of Kentucky Medical Center—a man he had funded a research wing for five years prior.
"Doctor Vance," Warren said, cutting off any pleasantries the moment the line connected. "This is Warren Whitaker. I need an air ambulance on the pad at Bell County Regional in twenty minutes. I am personally underwriting all medical care, surgical procedures, and long-term recovery for Sarah Pike. Spare no expense. Get the best cardiac team in the state into the operating theater before the hour is out."
He listened to the confirmation on the other end, hung up, and pocketed the phone.
May you like
The nurse standing by the bed looked at him with tears welling in her eyes, nodding slowly. "Thank you... Mr. Whitaker."
"Don't thank me yet," Warren said, his jaw clenched tight as he stared out the window toward the gray Kentucky rain. "I have a phone call to make to my corporate office. And someone is going to pay for every single drop of this blood."
