Page 149 of The Ampersand Effect

“Most of that will fall to oncology,” she said gently. “But it’ll likely mean managing the infection with IV fluids and keeping him comfortable.”

Haleigh looked to Grier. Grier winced under the weight of the truth they both knew: none of their options were good. But they had to choose something. The only alternative was to do nothing—and that wasn’t an option at all.

“I knew something was wrong. I knew it,” Molly whispered. “You’re doing the best you can, Molly,” Grier encouraged, rubbing her back again.

“No. I should’ve listened to my gut. I should’ve fought him when he told me he was fine.” Molly swiped at her eyes, refusing to let new tears fall. “I’m his mother. I should’ve overruled him. But he was so—” her voice cracked, “—so happy… I just wanted to give him these moments. These few days. I wanted him to have this childhood.” Her breath caught. “It… it isn’t fair!”

“Molly—there’s absolutely nothing you could’ve done differently,” Grier reassured her. “In all likelihood, we’d still be here, even if you brought him in when your gut told you to. That’s Ewing’s. It just… takes and takes and takes until there’s nothing left.” Grier’s voice softened. “You gave Jonah as much of a childhood as you could. And heishappy— because you prioritized that. Because of you, Molly. You are the best mom.” Her voice cracked. “Please remember that,” she whispered, willing Molly to believe it.

Molly’s back shuddered under Grier’s palm, her faint sobs wracking her worried frame. “It isn’t fair,” she said again. “It isn’t fair.”

Grier sat with her, Haleigh silent at her side. She hated this feeling—this incapacitation. Like her life—and Jonah’s—was passing her by outside of her control.

She had never done well with uncertainty. She preferred to search and research and pick every problem apart until she saw how it worked on its most basic, cellular level. Because she could work with that. She could manipulate those facts, that inarguable knowledge of rightness. Where she could change the very nature of her problems.

This wasn’t that. Ewing’s didn’t ascribe to her processes—it didn’t have to listen. Ewing’s was the captain of this aircraft.

But she didn’t have to eject. Jonah wasn’t gone yet. He was lying there, fighting for his life, and they were out here crying for him. Crying about something that hadn’t happened yet. And she’d be damned if she didn’t do everything in her power to give him—and Molly—that chance.

Grier stood abruptly. Molly didn’t seem to notice, but Haleigh appeared concerned before understanding settled in her eyes.

Grier crossed her arms, defiance already settling in her bones. “Molly,” Haleigh said calmly, “why don’t you go back in with Jonah? We’re going to go speak with the rest of his team. We’ll be back soon.”

Molly nodded, not really looking at them, and slipped into Jonah’s room. She was a ghost of a woman, preceding her son to an early grave.

Grier didn’t wait for Haleigh. She turned on her heel and strode toward the elevators, urgency quickening her step. Haleigh caught up with her in a matter of steps.

“I’m on your side, Grier,” she said firmly. “But confronting him right now won’t make anything better—for anyone,” Haleigh warned. “Keep your cool. For Jonah.”

Grier stepped into the elevator and jabbed the button for the surgical floor. As the doors slid shut, she leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, jaw set. The heat of anger and the anticipation of a worthy fight rolled off her in waves.

“I have ice in my veins, Haleigh,” she said, her voice level and lethal. “I have never been so cool.”

The elevator dinged, and she stepped out with calm precision, striding toward the corridor where the surgical physicians kept their offices. She passed Haleigh’s familiar door, and stopped two doors down—Victor Vanders, etched in an elegant metal name plate.

She opened the door without a knock, and burst across the threshold. Her rage was storming, and she was about to unleash her fury on the man least likely to care.

Vanders was seated at his desk when she stormed in, a mug of coffee steaming on his desk while he casually perused the morning paper. He wasn’t even reading case notes. No—he was simply sitting there, enjoying his peace while chaos brewed around him. Because of him.

He didn’t even flinch. He looked at her with maddening indifference, casually crossing an ankle over the other knee, and reached for his mug of coffee. He took a slow sip, unbothered, his lips ghosting into a smug smile.

He was controlled. He was collected. He was prepared.

“Grier,” he drawled. Apathy laced his voice while he deliberately refused to address her with her title.

He was belittling her in a way only a man in power could. And she knew it. She held her breath, and felt Haleigh’s warning touch on her shoulder.

“And Dr. Rhodes,” he smoldered from his chair, his gaze sliding to Haleigh. “I suspected the two of you were in collusion, but I could never prove it. If I’d known all it would take was a little boy fighting for his life, I’d have forced this surgery weeks ago.”

“You’re not even going to deny it, then?” Grier nearly spat. She could taste the vehemence on her tongue.

Of all the tools to use against her in his half-cocked plan for retribution, he was choosing to weaponize a child. Grier had thought she understood the worst of humanity. But Victor Vanders’s scope of depravity was a new level of low.

Vanders smiled at her, a wicked upturn at the corner of his mouth that told Grier everything: he knew he had bested her. And he that knew she knew it.

“There’s nothing to deny,” he said with mock innocence. “His mother carelessly neglected to provide appropriate intervention in a timely manner.”

Grier watched as Vanders posture rose just a fraction, his confidence—his ego—growing with the intensity of the conversation. “We’re mandatory reporters, Grier. I had no choice…” His voice trailed off as he bared his teeth, the smile visceral and feral and ripe with misappropriated victory.