Page 46 of Heart of Stone (Dark Billionaires)

Sarah lay unconscious on the bed, dwarfed by the incessant humming of flashing machines. A ventilator blocked the lower half of her face. Her hair, which she usually styled in a tight, sensible bun, streamed against the crisp white hospital pillow. A hairbrush lay next to her head where they’d interrupted Mattie combing it out.

“They think she’s had a seizure,” Mattie revealed. “She’s had a CT scan. They’ve only just brought her back.” He gulped down a shuddering breath.

Warren did his best to comfort Mattie in a situation that lay far, far outside both of their comfort zones.

Mattie finally cracked a smile when Warren brought out the food they’d picked up on the way down. “Mum says I’m not supposed to have fast food unless it’s a Friday. I put it on too easily, and my doctor says it’s not good for me.”

He nodded. “I think the doctor will give you a pass today.”

Mattie was silent as he ate, his eyes never leaving his mother. “I wish I’d brought my PC,” he said eventually, “just for something to do. I hate sitting here staring at her, wondering if she’s ever going to wake up.”

“Actually,” Kate whispered, her hands disappearing into the bright yellow leather satchel at her feet, “I brought this with us. I thought you might need a distraction.” She placed her new laptop on the portable table next to the bed.

“I’ll turn on my mobile hotspot,” Warren offered. The extra charges would probably run into the hundreds on his next bill, but it would be a small price to pay to take Mattie’s focus off of their critically ill mother.

It came as no surprise to any of them when Mattie fired upWorld of Warcraft.

“Do you know when Andy will be back?” Warren asked. The last he’d heard, Andy was in the Mediterranean somewhere.

It took Mattie a minute to realise Warren had asked him a question. “No, but he should be flying home soon, I hope.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

Mattie shook his head. “I left him a voicemail. I don’t think he’s allowed to use his phone whilst he’s working.”

With a comforting smile, Kate took Mattie’s hand. “I’m sure he’ll be here as soon as h—”

An older woman dressed in dark blue scrubs slid the privacy curtain back with a polite expression. Warren winced at the sudden metallic scraping of the eyelets against the pole. “Good morning, I’m Dr Tripathi, one of the doctors dealing with Mrs Harper’s case.” She paused, wearing the tight smile of someone about to deliver bad news. Her eyes ran down her chart. “Which one of you is Matthew Harper?”

Mattie raised his hand, his face suddenly pale. “We’re her sons,” he said, gesturing to Warren. “Is she going to be okay?”

Dr Tripathi’s face was sincere. “We’re going to do everything we can to help Mrs Harper. Now, we’ve sent her for some scans, as I’m sure you’re aware. However, the good news is that her seizure doesn’t appear to be a new condition. Rather, we’re working under the hypothesis that it’s an additional symptom of her glioblastoma. This is good news, as we’ve found that patients presenting with seizures do tend to have a more favourable—”

“Wait, what?” Warren blinked, his own panic reflected back at him in Mattie’s expression. “Her glioblast…”

“Glioblastoma,” Dr Tripathi supplied, when he failed to finish the word. She checked her notes. “We have it down here that Mrs Harper was diagnosed with glioblastoma approximately three weeks ago.”

“And what is that, exactly?” Mattie asked.

There was a pause before the doctor answered, looking between them with a patient expression. “Glioblastoma is a type of malignant tumour found in the brain.”

Malignant.

Something deflated inside his chest at the mere mention of the word.

Mattie squeezed Kate’s hand. “Tumour… As in cancer?”

“I’m afraid so,” Dr Tripathi answered, her tone not unkind. “But she’s scheduled to start chemotherapy later this week. After her seizure this morning, we’ve already issued her a prescription for carbamazepine, which should help to control the issue in the future. We’re hoping that carbamazepine should either reduce the incidence of future seizures or prevent them altogether.”

“And the chemotherapy,” Mattie sat up hopefully, “that will cure her cancer?”

Dr Tripathi’s nostrils flared as she inhaled. “Glioblastoma isn’t something that can be cured, per se, but it can be slowed with chemotherapy and other treatment options such as radiotherapy and surgery. She’s already been scheduled in to start treatment soon.”

“Good,” Mattie said faintly, staring at the hospital bed—and its occupant. Warren lay an arm across his brother’s back. “Good.”

“Very well.” Dr Tripathi began to list off potential symptoms that she might have been experiencing, attempting to ascertain whether any other signs may have been missed. Warren let Mattie answer the questions, given that his knowledge was superior to Warren’s own. Eventually, the doctor reached the end of her list and hurried away, her heeled boots clacking against the linoleum floor.

A few minutes later, the nurses began to arrive. They were an ever-present feature in the intensive care unit, to the point where they were just as numerous as the patients themselves.

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