Chapter 67
Nora's POV
The neurology department smelled like disinfectant. I sat across from the doctor. She had Mom's file open on her desk.
"The initial treatment process has been going well," the doctor said. "But the results aren't significant. Moving forward, we'll be combining it with a new-generation antipsychotic medication. The goal is to stabilize her emotional regulation and address the trauma-induced dissociation."
I pulled out my phone and started taking notes. "How long will this take?"
"Three to six months. Possibly longer, depending on her response."
My stomach dropped. "And the cost?"
The doctor flipped through the file. "Conservatively? Eighty to one hundred twenty thousand dollars."
The air left my lungs. I stared at her, frozen.
She must have seen the panic on my face because her expression softened. "But you don't need to worry about that right now. Mr. Phillips already covered the first three months of treatment. Forty thousand dollars."
I blinked. "Mr. Phillips?"
"Yes. He called yesterday and arranged everything."
I gripped the armrest of my chair. Henry paid for this.
"Ms. Grey?" The doctor's voice pulled me back. "Are you all right?"
I nodded quickly, even though I wasn't. "Yeah. Yes. I'm fine. Thank you."
I left the office.
I made it to the outdoor walkway before I stopped. The cold air hit my face, sharp and bracing. I pulled out my phone and dialed Henry's number.
It rang. And rang. And rang.
No answer.
I hung up and stared at the screen. My thumb hovered over the call button again, but I stopped myself. Instead, I opened my email.
Subject: About Mom's Treatment
Henry,
I just found out what you did. $40,000. I don't even know what to say.
Thank you. But I can't accept this. It's too much. We need to meet to discuss this.
— Nora
I hit send before I could second-guess myself.
I still owed Benjamin money, and now I owed Henry too.
I sighed, shoved my phone in my pocket, and walked back inside.
---
At two in the afternoon, Aunt Marianne showed up at the hospital. She found me sitting in Mom's room, staring blankly at the floor.
"Nora?" She set her purse down on the chair. "You okay, honey?"
I looked up. "I need to tell you something."
She sat down slowly. "What is it?"
"Henry paid for Mom's treatment. Forty thousand dollars."
Her face went pale. "Oh, no. Nora, we can't—"
"I know." My voice came out tight. "We have to pay him back. I can't let this sit. But I..."
"I have some savings. I can—" Marianne said.
"No." I cut her off. "That's your retirement money. I won't touch it."
"Then what are you going to do?"
I hesitated. "I have another idea."
I turned toward the bed where Mom lay sleeping, her face peaceful but vacant. I took a breath.
"Aunt Marianne... Dad's things. Are they still around?"
She frowned. "You mean the union memorabilia? The antiques he collected?"
"Yeah."
"They're in the basement storage unit. Locked up. Your father was so proud of those things. He used to say they were proof he'd fought for something."
I swallowed hard. "Do you think they're worth anything now? I remember some of the medals were gold-plated. And that old typewriter—collectors might pay for it."
Marianne's expression tightened. "Nora... is this really—"
"Dad said he kept them for when we needed help." My voice cracked slightly. "And I need help now. But I won't sell everything. Just enough."
Marianne looked at me for a long moment. Then she nodded. "All right. We'll go through them together when we get back."
---
When Marianne left in the evening to make dinner, I stayed behind. The nurse would arrive in an hour. I sat in the quiet room, watching the machines hum softly beside Mom's bed.
I opened my phone email.
There were dozens of messages. Work requests, spam, a few updates from Benjamin. And one from Jacey Lewis at NPR.
My heart jumped.
Subject: Re: Special Correspondent Position
Ms. Grey,
Have you given it more thought? If you're interested, we'd like to schedule an in-person meeting to discuss the role. Let me know your availability.
Best,
Jacey Lewis
I stared at the screen. This was a new opportunity.
I typed back quickly:
Ms. Lewis,
Tomorrow, 3 PM at the NPR building lobby café? I'm ready to talk.
— Nora Grey
I hit send and closed my laptop.
For the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe.
---
At six o'clock, I heard a knock.
The door opened.
Henry walked in.
I froze. "Henry... what are you doing here?"
He smiled, but it was tight around the edges. "I got your email."
He shut the door behind him and walked over, his hands in his coat pockets. "I figured you'd want to talk."
I stood up, my stomach twisting. "Henry, I meant what I said. I can't just—"
"Nora." He held up a hand. "Let me talk first, okay?"
I pressed my lips together and nodded.
"You're going through hell right now," he said quietly. "Your mom. Your job. Your relationship. Friends help each other when things get bad. That's what this is."
"Forty thousand dollars isn't help. It's—"
"It's not a burden for me." His voice was firm but gentle. "I know it is for you. But Nora, I want to help you."
My throat tightened. "I don't want to owe anyone."
"Then we'll make it official. You can pay me back over time. Whatever works for you. But right now, just focus on your mom. Okay?"
I nodded. "Actually... I got an offer from NPR. If I take it, I can start paying you back soon."
His face lit up. "Nora, that's amazing! That's huge!"
I managed a weak smile. "Yeah. I think so too."
"Then we should celebrate." He grinned. "You got dinner plans?"
"Aunt Marianne's making dinner at home," I said slowly. "You could... come with me?"
Henry's eyes brightened. "I'd love that."
I stepped into the hallway to call Marianne.
"Hey, Aunt Marianne? Henry came by to check on Mom. I was thinking... would it be okay if I brought him for dinner?"
Her voice warmed immediately. "Of course! That boy's always been so sweet. Bring him over. I'll make extra."
I hung up and stared at my phone.
She definitely thinks this is something it's not.
But I didn't have the energy to correct her.
---
When I got back to the room, the night nurse had arrived. I gave her the rundown—things to watch for, emergency contacts. She nodded and settled into the chair beside Mom's bed.
Henry and I walked out together.
The elevator doors slid open. We stepped inside.
My phone buzzed.
I pulled it out.
Julian:
Nora. Downstairs. Now.
My heart stopped.