Chapter 3 - The DiagnosisThe sterile fluorescent lights of the hospital waiting room buzzed overhead. For three hours, Cameron sat on a plastic chair with a paper cup of cold, bitter vending machine coffee. Hope had finally fallen asleep curled against his side, her thumb tucked lightly into her mouth, tears still dried into salty tracks across her cheeks.
At 3:15 AM, the automatic doors of the trauma unit hissed open. A tired-looking doctor in green scrubs walked over, wiping his brow with a paper towel.
“Are you family?” the doctor asked, his eyes darting between Cameron and the sleeping child.
“I’m... a friend,” Cameron said, standing up carefully so as not to wake Hope. “How is she?”
“Severe exhaustion, acute dehydration, and advanced physical burnout,” the doctor sighed, crossing his arms. “Her name is Clara Scott. Her system simply shut down. She’s suffering from extreme chronic fatigue and malnutrition. If she had stayed on that floor another ten minutes without oxygen and fluids, we might be having a very different conversation.”
Cameron felt a cold knot twist in his stomach. “Can I see her?”
“She’s still sedated, but she’s stable in Room 304,” the doctor nodded. “She needs rest, Mr...?”
“West. Cameron West.”
May you like
The doctor’s eyes widened slightly. He recognized the name. West Capital was one of the largest venture investment firms in the country.
“Well, Mr. West,” the doctor said softly. “Whoever she is, she’s lucky you missed your flight.”
