Ethan arrived at St. Mary’s Hospital days later, earlier than scheduled. The world outside had stopped. Business deals could wait. The empire could wait.
Inside Room 304, he met Jacob—his son.
The little boy smiled, cheeks glowing, a stuffed giraffe tucked under his arm.
“Hi, Dad,” he said.
It was the first time Ethan had ever felt the ground move beneath his feet.
For the next few hours, he stayed at Jacob’s side, making silly faces, telling stories about the zoo, and promising that once he got better, they’d ride the biggest carousel in Central Park together.
Doctors confirmed it the next day—Ethan was a perfect match.
The transplant was scheduled for the end of the week.
Grace didn’t say much. She stayed in the shadows, observing. Her face was cautious, her heart guarded.
But she let him in, little by little.
Ethan didn’t leave the hospital during recovery. He brought books, colored with Jacob, and learned the names of all the nurses. He began shedding his past the way Jacob’s body shed illness.
