The Cost of Hope

The automatic sliding doors parted as Cora hurried into the bright, quiet hospital lobby. An urgent phone call from her mother’s physician had pulled her out of the apartment, demanding she get here immediately, and she had bolted out the door without thinking twice. Now that her feet were actually on the hospital floor, dread began to take hold. Whenever it came to her mother, she braced herself for the absolute worst, and tonight felt no different.

As she approached the main desk, the nurse assigned to her mother’s care stepped forward to meet her. “I’m terribly sorry we had to call you in at this hour, but it couldn't wait.”

The grave urgency in the woman’s voice sent a jolt of panic straight through Cora. “Is my mom alright? Did something happen to her?” she asked, half-terrified of what the answer might be.

Offering a gentle smile, the nurse tried to soothe her. “Your mother is stable for now, though you need to step inside and speak with the doctor.”

Cora gave a tight nod, her chest still too constricted to let out the breath she had been holding since the phone rang.

She knew full well that the physician thought keeping her mother on life support was a waste of resources when that bed could go to someone he actually had a shot at saving. Still, his hands were tied; he couldn't discharge her mother as long as the monthly invoices were being paid.

Six long years had slipped by like this. Her mother had lain unresponsive in a coma for all six of them, leaving Cora as the sole person left on earth who truly believed she would open her eyes again. Early on, that faith had been unshakable, yet lately the whole ordeal had turned into a brutal race against time. It was simply a matter of which would give out first—her mother's failing body, or the money required to keep her breathing.

When she stepped into the office, the doctor greeted her with a brief, tight-lipped smile, and she inclined her head in return before taking a seat.

“I’m afraid I have some troubling news to go over with you,” he began, his features settling into a solemn expression. Cora curled her fingers into her palms on her lap, dreading whatever was coming next. Nothing good ever started like that.

“Your mother has developed an infection, and it is becoming increasingly difficult for us to stop her overall condition from slipping further,” he explained evenly. “On top of that, the specialized treatment required to fight off this infection comes with substantial extra expenses.”

Giving a slow nod, she already knew where he was steering the conversation. “I understand, Doctor, but giving up on my mother isn't an option for me. I still believe she will wake up, and until that day comes, I will cover whatever it costs to keep her alive.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment, though Cora resented the unmistakable look of pity sitting in his eyes. It was painfully clear he viewed her mother as a lost cause—he had for years. More than anything, she wished she had the means to transfer her mother under the care of a physician who actually believed she stood a fighting chance, yet switching doctors was a luxury Cora simply couldn't afford.

“If you'll just sign right here,” he said after a moment, pushing a clipboard across the desk toward her. “I will have the updated invoice sent over. The total is going up by a couple thousand dollars this month.”

Picking up the pen, Cora signed her name on the authorization lines, agreeing to both the new treatment regimen and the steep charges attached to it. Exhaustion weighed on her limbs so heavily that her eyelids drifted shut in quiet defeat as she set the pen back down on the desk.

A brief wave of relief washed over her once she stepped out of the office and started down the corridor toward her mother’s room, though the reprieve barely lasted five seconds. Eight thousand dollars. Just a few years back, she wouldn't have looked twice at a bill like that; it would have been pocket change. Back before her life fell apart, her closet held several designer handbags that retailed for well over eight grand apiece. Those days were long gone.

Only a few months after her mother first slipped into the coma, her father had pulled strings to have doctors declare her brain dead solely so he could legally move on and remarry. The exact day he tied the knot with Helena, the health insurance provider notified Cora that they were terminating all coverage for her mother’s care. At the time, the notice hadn't worried her much. She was a Vance, after all, and her family had plenty of wealth to go around, insurance or not. Looking back, she should have known better and seen the warning signs for what they were.

At barely eighteen years old, her entire world had been upended overnight—losing her mother, losing her older brother's loyalty, and being forced to live under the same roof as her new stepmother and stepsister. Watching her father cast her mother aside so callously had been hard enough to stomach, yet Cora would have found a way to swallow her pride and play along with the new family dynamic if Helena hadn't pushed her father to cut off the medical payments entirely. Even when he caved to his new wife, Cora had clung to the belief that she and her brother could pool resources to keep their mom safe. She had counted on him standing in her corner, only to find out just how wrong she was. Helena had sunk her claws into Trent so thoroughly that she convinced him paying those hospital bills was just throwing good money after a hopeless cause, leaving him someone Cora barely recognized anymore.

Her sole saving grace had been a trust fund her mother established for her at birth, which Cora had steadily drained over the past six years to keep the hospital accounts settled. Now, she had hit a brick wall. The account was completely empty, every piece of jewelry or valuable she owned had already been sold off, and she had nothing left to keep her mother breathing. For the first time in her life, she was flat broke.

Pulling a chair up beside the hospital bed, she took her mother’s limp hand between her own, wishing desperately for even the faintest squeeze in return. “Mom, please,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of it all. “Please wake up. I need you here so badly, please don't leave me like this. I don't have a clue how I’m going to come up with the money for your bills anymore. Just wake up, please.” She choked back a rising sob as she pressed her forehead against the edge of the mattress.

None of her past pleading had ever brought her mother back to the surface. Some foolish part of her still hoped that if her mother sensed just how backed into a corner she was right now, her eyes would finally flutter open, yet the room remained as still as ever. Keeping her head bowed against the bedrail, Cora parted her lips and tried to drag air into her tight lungs.

“I had no idea you were having such a hard time covering the bills, sweetheart.”

Startled, Cora snapped her head up to find her mother’s nurse standing just inside the room, gazing down at her with quiet sympathy.

“How long have you been carrying this on your own?” the woman asked gently. “I never realized the financial side of things had gotten this rough for you.”

Sniffling hard, Cora swiped the back of her hand across her wet cheeks. “It gets worse every single year. And now… this time, I just…” The rest of the sentence died in her throat as a fresh sob tore through her chest.

The nurse watched her in silence for a long beat before reaching into the breast pocket of her scrubs and drawing out a small black card, hesitating slightly as she held it out. “A guardian for one of my former patients mentioned this place to me a while back. It’s a high-end gentlemen’s club, and she said working there helped her pull together cash fast when her back was against the wall. According to her… they pay pretty generously for the innocent types. I truly hope you never have to use this, Cora, but if it comes down to it, there is no shame in doing whatever you must to keep your mom alive.”

Long after the nurse slipped back out into the hallway, Cora remained frozen in her chair, staring down at the rectangle resting in her palm. The cardstock was heavy and matte black, stamped at the top with the club’s name in gold lettering, followed by a street address and no phone number. She wasn't naive about what went on behind the doors of places like that. Desperate girls went there to sell their bodies to wealthy men in exchange for a few thousand dollars a month, and a cold shiver ran down her spine just picturing it. Thankfully, her father had given his word that he would take over the hospital bills the moment she married Dom, so with any luck, she would never have to step foot near that address.