Page 27 of The Auction (The Black Ledger Billionaires #4)

S hanae’s name flashes across my phone.

It almost went to voicemail before I could answer at the last second.

“Cassidy.” Her voice is too fast, too sharp. “It’s your mom. She’s… something’s wrong. I’m taking her to the ER.”

The bottom drops out of my stomach. “What? What happened?”

“She’s been dizzy and her breathing’s shallow. She tried to brush it off, but?—”

“Okay. I’ll meet you there.” I cut in, already moving. I shove my feet into the first shoes I see and grab my bag with shaking hands.

Jaxon’s in his office, headset on, speaking in a low, commanding tone that says something’s going wrong with one of his companies. From the sound of it, whatever’s happening is big—voices on the other end are frantic, his jaw tight.

I hesitate in the doorway, knocking twice softly. “Jax?—”

His gaze snaps to mine, reading me in an instant. He doesn’t say hold on or one minute —he just pulls the headset off and ends the call. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom… Shanae is taking her to the ER.” My voice wavers, and I hate it. “I need to?—”

“I’ll drive you,” he says, already standing.

“You’re working?—”

He crosses the space between us in two long strides, tilts my chin up with two fingers, and kisses me—slow, steady, grounding. “I’m driving.”

There’s no arguing with him when he uses that voice. The one that leaves no room for debate but still somehow makes me feel safe.

I nod, my throat too tight for words, and he’s already grabbing his keys.

I’ve never been so grateful for Jaxon’s reckless driving. Today, it feels like salvation instead of a death wish. We’re there in record time—no stoplights, no hesitation—just the city blurring past.

Shanae is standing by the check-in desk when we walk in, clutching her phone, relief washing over her face. “Well you two got here fast,” she says, waving us through the waiting room.

Mom looks up from the wheelchair, and her whole face brightens at the sight of us—like the pain and fear disappear just for a second. My chest tightens so hard it’s almost painful.

But when I see her, the breath nearly leaves my lungs. She’s thinner than the last time I was here—only a few days ago, but she can’t afford to lose any weight. Her clothes hang looser, her cheeks are a little more hollow.

I bite down on the shock, force a smile like nothing’s wrong. She doesn’t need my fear on top of whatever she’s dealing with. The way Jaxon’s fingers tighten around mine tells me he notices too. He doesn’t say anything—he just stays solid and steady beside me.

T he ER feels quieter now. Mom’s sitting on the edge of the bed, looking more like herself, a faint blush back in her cheeks.

The doctor explains she had a drop in blood pressure when standing up too quickly—likely made worse because of dehydration from the chemo and radiation. Not uncommon, nothing life-threatening today, but it caused the dizzy spell that scared Shanae.

They gave her fluids, adjusted a few medications, and want her to follow up with her oncologist in three days.

Jaxon’s been keeping Mom laughing for the last hour—ridiculous one-liners, exaggerated stories, even trying to convince her that hospital pudding is Michelin star quality. I appreciate it more than he’ll ever know. Every smile he gets out of her feels like a victory.

When he excuses himself to the bathroom, the nurse comes in with a clipboard and a stack of papers. Shanae steps forward instantly.

“I’ll take care of those,” she says, then glances at me. “Go sit with your mama for a bit.”

I drag my chair closer to the bed, slipping my hand into Mom’s and resting my head on it. She strokes my hair like she’s done since I was little, slow, and soothing, like she can calm every ache with just her touch.

“So, you and Jackie?” she asks softly.

I lift my head a little. “Hm?”

“Jaxon.” Her mouth curves. “I saw him holding your hand. Is something going on there?”

I open my mouth, close it again. “Oh, I… don’t know.”

She leans back against the pillows, studying me with that all-seeing mom gaze. “I’m not surprised. Honestly, I’m more surprised it’s taken this long. That boy has always looked at you like you hung the moon.”

“No he hasn’t.” My throat tightens, and I let out a watery laugh.

“A mother know’s these things.” She keeps rubbing my head and I let the words settle a moment.

“So, if he were my boyfriend… would you approve?”

She smiles, warm and sure. “I couldn’t hand-pick someone better for you. He may not show it outright, but I know what a man in love looks like. And Jaxon Kane has got it bad. Your father looked at me like that for decades.”

That makes my stomach twist—not entirely in a good way. Mom notices instantly, her hand stilling on mine.

“When Sandy applied to work for us,” she says quietly, “she and Jaxon were in a real bad way. I didn’t care if Sandy could do the work or not. I wasn’t going to turn them away. Paid her double the listing and gave her an advance.”

She pauses, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I never knew the details of their life before, but I saw how hollow Jaxon’s eyes were. He was such a sad little boy.”

She squeezes my hand. “But his mama saved him. Showed him what love’s supposed to look like. And I hope he saw that in our home too. I know he’s got a lot of love to give.”

My chest aches, the weight of her words pressing into me.

“I know it might seem strange because you’ve known each other so long,” she says gently, “but if you feel it in your heart, baby… follow it.”

The door swings open, and there’s Jaxon, rolling Mom’s wheelchair in like he’s just come up with the cure for boredom. Shanae’s right behind him, clearly in on whatever scheme he’s cooking up.

“I’ve got a great idea, Lilly,” he says, all mock-seriousness as he parks the chair beside the bed. “We steal another wheelchair and you and me race to the car.”

Shanae snorts. “Lord, you’re ridiculous.”

I can’t help it—I chuckle, and Mom throws her covers off with a sparkle in her eye. “Please, boy.”

I step forward to help her stand while Jaxon steadies the chair. Shanae moves in to support her other side, and together we ease her down into the seat.

“You couldn’t beat me if you got started yesterday,” Mom says, patting his hand with a smirk.

Jaxon grins and glances over at me. “Well… at least I know where you get your sass from.”

“ C assidy…”

The voice is faint, barely there, but I know it instantly. My mom.

I whip my head toward the sound, but the hallway is endless, swallowed in shadow. Machines buzz somewhere ahead, a dull, urgent hum. I run—at least I think I do—but my legs feel heavy, like I’m wading through water.

“Cass, where are you?”

It takes forever to reach her.

She’s in the hospital bed, skin pale against the thin sheets.

“I’m here mama.” I grab her hand and yank it back with a gasp. It’s hard. Cold. Like she’s already dead and long gone.

“No,” I whisper, my chest caving in. I force myself to look at her face, but what’s staring back at me makes my stomach turn.

Her eyes are glazed and lifeless, fixed on something just beyond me.

“No!” My hands fly to my mouth to hold back the sob threatening to tear me in half. I grab her hand again, patting it like I can warm it back to life. “Mama, please?—”

“It’s time to go.” Jonathan is suddenly right next to me. His grip on my wrist is like iron, dragging me backward.

“Let me go!” I scream, swinging at him with my free hand. My fist connects with his arm, his chest, anywhere I can reach. No matter how hard I hit, it feels like I’m hitting nothing. “I need to say goodbye to her! Let me say goodbye! ”

He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t even blink. His jaw is locked, eyes straight ahead, face carved from stone.

“Please, Jonathan.” My feet skid along the floor as he hauls me away, the bed—her—getting smaller, and smaller?—

We’re almost to the doorway when he finally turns. His voice is sharp, cutting through me.

“Wake up, Cricket.”

The tone shifts mid-syllable, Jonathan’s voice dissolving into Jaxon’s.

“Wake up, Cricket.”

I jerk upright, gasping. The hospital room is gone. The shadows rearrange into Jaxon’s face, inches from mine, his near-black eyes locked on me with that same fierce intensity he always has when something’s wrong.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice a lifeline in the dark.

Tears spill before I can stop them. “She died,” I choke out. “She was dead.”

“Oh. No, baby.” He doesn’t hesitate—just pulls me against him like he can physically shield me from the dream. His chest is warm, his scent grounding me as he tucks my head under his chin. His leg hooks over mine, his arms tightening until I’m wrapped in him completely, hidden away from the world.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, stroking my hair. “She’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here.”

And I let myself sink into that safety, sobbing into his skin until the ache in my chest is the only thing left keeping me awake.