The Billionaire's Touch Is My Antidote

out of the Neon Club's entrance, the heavy bass fading behind her, replaced by the distant wail of a siren

n, w

vulsion, the precursor to her haphephobia, coiled in her gut. For years, she had to

tion was fluid, primal. Her hand swung in a wide arc, and the crack of her pa

e feigned look of remorse he'd been wearing vanished

s askew. She rushed to Ivan's side, playing the part of the co

at Blair. "You can have him," she said, her voice dripping with c

. He raised his hand,

ng cut through the tension. It was Gwen's phone, buri

d out the phone. The screen glowed with a name: Mr. Hayes. Laura'

, her thumb clumsy a

"There's been an incident. It's Laura. She collapsed during drama rehearsal. An ambulanc

uts, Blair's fake whimpers-it all faded into a dull, distant roar. The phone

sister. The only f

is existence. She turned and ran, sprinting toward the st

es from her. She yanked the doo

ow! Please, hurry!" she screamed

ights. Her hands were clenched so tightly in her lap that her nails bit into her palms, drawin

at nineteen, working two jobs to put herself through accounting school while making sure Laura never missed a me

en threw a fifty-dollar bill onto the front seat. "Keep the change!" s

ps, and hushed, anxious voices. She ran to the triage desk, gaspin

led Gwen down a long, sterile corridor to the Cardiac Intensive Care

ed hospital bed, a tangle of wires and tubes connecting her to a bank of monitors that beeped and

guttural sob tearing from her throat. The tears she hadn't

professional concern, approached her, holdin

ling to compose herself. "

's been a severe rejection of her previous valve graft. Her heart is failing, M

rabbing his sleeve. "Whateve

cedure. The best person in the country, arguably the world, for this k

's chest. "Then cal

ly. "Dr. Turner's surgical schedule is booked solid for

ary estimate of costs. Gwen's eyes scanned the page, her vision blurring as she tr

use Laura's condition was pre-existing, her insura

banking app. The balance displayed on the screen was a cruel joke

despair. The weight of it was crushing, a physical pressure that stole the air from her lungs.

on. Ivan had drained their joint account for his stupid sta

espair. Ivan's voice, in that dark, sleazy booth. g

ble and desperate, began to form in the ruins of her mind

d in this moment of total desperation, she

e hardening her expression. She got to her feet, her movements stiff