Chapter 11
I thought I was dead.
But death didn't come with the beep of a heart monitor, or the sharp smell of disinfectant.
I opened my eyes to a white ceiling and a blinding surgical lamp overhead.
"Hey, you're awake," Stephen said.
He was standing at my bedside, pulling off his mask, sweat dripping down his face.
Behind him stood two people in surgical scrubs.
Stephen continued, "You really dodged a bullet.
"The day I got your test results, I sent your info to an old buddy in Riverside City. He's got a new targeted drug still in trials. Yesterday, he finally messaged back, saying he'd bend the rules and let you try it.
"When you collapsed in the hallway, I happened to be next door doing rounds. If I'd been five minutes later, you'd be gone."
I lay in the hospital bed, my head spinning.
"How long was I out?" I asked.
"You've been unconscious for two days," Stephen said.
Two days had passed.
"My brother—" I murmured.
"He called over a hundred times, but I didn't pick up," Stephen said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. "No one will know you're here unless you want them to. Not until you decide how you want to face him."
I turned my head and looked out the window.
The sky outside was gloomy.
"How long do I have left?" I asked.
"If the targeted drug works, best case, we can stop the spread and maybe get you to surgery. But you have to stay in the hospital, stick with the treatment, and actually eat," Stephen said.
"How much will that cost?"
He was silent for a few seconds. "Forget about the money."
"Dr. Reed."
"I told you, don't worry about it. Your mom helped me out back then, and I still owe her. Consider this my way of repaying your family."
I stared at him, and he stared right back.
After what felt like forever, I looked away first.
"Okay," I said.
He finally let out a breath of relief.
"There's something else you need to know," he added.
He reached into the drawer and pulled out a manila envelope.
"After you collapsed, I got in touch with your mom's former lawyer. About six months before she passed, she entrusted him with some things for you," Stephen said.
I took the manila envelope.
Inside were two documents and a handwritten letter.
Mom's handwriting was on the envelope: [For Claire, personally.]
My fingers were trembling.
I tore open the envelope.
The letter was short.
Mom's handwriting was delicate, every stroke like painting petals: [Claire, if you're reading this, it means I'm gone.
[There are a few things I never told you. The real assets of Cooper Enterprises aren't on the company's books. When you were five, your father set up a trust fund in your name, managed by Summit Bank.
[With this letter and your ID, you can claim it.
[This money is the last safety net we left for you.
[I don't know what life will throw at you, but I hope you always remember that you're my greatest pride.]
There were a few spots on the paper where the ink had smudged.
Those spots seemed like tear stains.
The other two documents were the trust fund's founding certificate and a power of attorney from Summit Bank.
I clutched the letter, biting my lip.
The door to the hospital room was pushed open.
A nurse poked her head in. "Dr. Reed, there's a Mr. Foster here to see Ms. Cooper."
Jack walked in.
He was stunned when he saw me lying there in the hospital bed.
"Claire, why are you in the hospital?" he asked.
Stephen gave him a quick rundown of the situation.
Jack dropped into a chair after hearing the whole thing.
He couldn't speak for what felt like forever.
"Dr. Reed, is there any real hope for her?" Jack finally managed to ask.
"With the new treatment, there's about a forty percent chance," Stephen replied.
"How much is it going to cost?"
"I've got the money covered," Stephen said. "What you can do is help her sort out everything outside."
Jack looked at me, then suddenly let out a deep, heavy sigh.
"Claire, I just came from the Grand Crest Restaurant. Do you know what Emily's been doing out there?" he said.
"What?" I asked.
"Yesterday, at the Chamber of Commerce's dinner, she stood up in front of thirty-something people and announced that Ryan had officially named her the only heir to the Cooper family.
"She told everyone you ran away, cut ties with your family, and don't deserve the Cooper name."
I lay in the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Emily, someone who had no right to call herself a Cooper, was living in the Cooper family's villa, wearing the Cooper family's golden locket, spending the Cooper family's money, and pretending to be the Cooper family's heiress.
And the real Cooper was stuck in a hospital bed, nearly dying, and nobody knew.
"Mr. Foster," I said. "Can you go to Summit Bank for me?"