Page 77 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

"Ms. Carter suffered a catastrophic cardiac event," Dr. Patel explains. "Her mechanical heart has essentially failed. Right now, she's on an ECMO machine under sedation—it's essentially pumping her heart for her."

Vincent makes a strangled sound. "But she'll recover, right? You can repair the damages to her mechanical heart, right?"

Dr. Patel's expression grows even more somber. "I'm afraid the damage is too extensive. She needs a new muscle heart transplant, and she needs it quickly. We've already placed her on the emergency transplant list."

The room spins around me. I grab the back of a chair to steady myself.

"There's something else you should know," Dr. Patel continues, her voice softening further. "Our initial testsrevealed that Ms. Carter is approximately four weeks pregnant."

The silence that follows is deafening.

Vincent collapses back into his chair, his face draining of all color. "Pregnant?" he whispers.

Damien's jaw tightens. "How does this affect her treatment? The transplant?"

"It complicates things," Dr. Patel admits. "But not impossibly so. Heart transplants during pregnancy are rare but not unheard of. The primary concern right now is keeping Ms. Carter stable until we can find a donor heart."

"Can we see her?" I ask, my voice cracking.

Dr. Patel nods. "Briefly. She's unconscious and will remain so until we can resolve her cardiac situation. I must prepare you—there are a lot of machines, tubes, and wires. It can be overwhelming."

She leads us down a sterile hallway to the ICU. Through a glass door, I can see Willow, looking impossibly small and fragile in the hospital bed. Machines surround her, beeping and humming, keeping her alive.

As we enter the room, the rhythmic whoosh of the heart-lung machine fills the air. Willow's chest rises and falls in time with it, but it's the machine breathing for her, not Willow herself.

Vincent stands frozen in the doorway, unable to approach. Damien moves to Willow's bedside, gently taking her limp hand in his.

I step to the other side of the bed, carefully avoiding the tangle of tubes and wires. Willow's face is pale, her lips tinged slightly blue despite the machines keeping her alive. I placemy hand on her forehead, brushing back a strand of her dark hair.

"A baby," I whisper, my eyes filling with tears. "You're going to be a mom, Cariña."

Dr. Patel stands respectfully by the door. "We'll do everything we can for both of them," she promises. "But I need to be honest with you—we're in a race against time. Without a new heart within the next 72 hours, the prognosis is... not good."

Vincent finally finds his voice. "What can we do?" he asks, his words barely audible.

"Be here for her," Dr. Patel says. "And hope that a compatible donor is found quickly."

As we stand around Willow's bed, the machines continuing their life-sustaining rhythm, one thought echoes in my mind: Willow needs a miracle, and she needs it now.

Damien swallows hard, his mind racing. "Dr. Patel," he says before she can leave, "what does matching a donor heart to Willow even involve?"

She stops, nodding at his question. "Several factors come into play. Blood type is the first requirement—she can only receive a heart from someone with a compatible type. Then there's tissue compatibility to minimize the risk of rejection, size match to ensure the new heart functions properly in her body, and of course, overall donor health. And even if all that lines up, the heart must be viable—it has to come from someone whose organs are still functioning, but who is declared brain dead. Once a match is found, time is critical. The heart has to be transplanted within a few hours of removal."

Damien exchanges a look with Vincent. Seventy-two hours. That’s all they have.

Dr. Patel sighs. "I know how helpless this feels, but I promise, we're doing everything possible to find a match." With a final glance at Willow, she turns and leaves, her heels clicking softly against the tile floor.

A heavy silence settles over the room. Willow lies pale and still, her chest rising and falling with the help of the ventilator.

Vincent clenches his jaw. "We can't just wait. What if a heart doesn’t come in time?"

I wipe my finger across my thumb as I speak. "You're thinking we should find one ourselves."

Damien nods, his expression grim. "There has to be another way. A donor registry isn't the only option."

Vincent exhales, rubbing a hand down his face. The ethical, legal, and moral lines blur in his mind. "Are you suggesting?—"

"Anything." Damien’s voice is low and desperate. "Whatever it takes. We don’t let Willow die."

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