Lucas's pov

I should have left. I had a chauffeur waiting,a schedule full of billion - dollar choices - but I couldn't leave. Not when I caught a glimpse of her through the window, holding her sister like she was holding the last bits of herself together. Lucia Moretti wasn't just shattered - she was hurting from within, and something about that quiet hurt made it quite hard for me to leave.

After their hug, she stood at her sister's bedside,her fingers dabbing a damp cloth over the child's forehead. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy bun,strands framing her face. I chuckled to myself. She always fails to notice me.

I coughed,loud enough to catch her attention.

She looked startled, like a deer in headlights."Ahh...Mr.Marano again.."

"I was just about to take my leave," I said, nodding towards the exit.

"I just wanted to properly say my goodbyes."

Her face fell, just a little."You have my thanks...for your help. I still don't understand your reasons, but...thank you."

"You don't need to understand," I said.

"Just do your best to make sure she gets better."

Lucia's arms folded around her, her voice a whisper. "She's all I have."

Her words lingered in the air like the smell of antiseptic - sharp and painful.

I moved forward, closer to her. "You make me remember someone. Someone I lost."

"My sister. She used to be a ballerina." I didn't speak more. It simply wasn't the time. "Anyway.. goodbye, Lucia."

She nodded slowly, lips parted like she wanted to speak some more. But there were no words.

I gave her a curt, respectful nod and walked out.

I didn't look back.

But I bet she won't forget me.

The city outside lit up like nothing had happened, but something in me felt different. I undid my ties as my chauffeur drove away from the hospital, the cold leather of the backseat offered little comfort.

"Your destination,Mr.Marano?"

Cassius asked from the driver's seat.

"Marano holdings. And call Adrian. I need all we can find on someone. Lucia Moretti."

Cassius didn't argue. He would never.

Three hours later, I was in my corner office, its intricate windows showing the skyline like a work of art. But I wasn't focused on the view.

Adrian entered, tablet in his grip, his face blank. "You requested a background check on Lucia Moretti."

I motioned for him to speak.

He flipped open a file. " She's twenty five. Formerly a professional ballerina - a global prodigy. Danced in New York, London,and Paris. Headlines from about two and a half years ago. She was arguably one of the best."

I looked up, shocked. "She didn't tell me any of that."

"There's a lot more," Adrian continued.

"She was the wife of Matt Richards."

The name knocked me out of breath.

Matt. My best friend.

I laughed at myself mentally...to think I was hiding Lucia from him, when he knew her very personally.. to put it mildly.

But Adrian didn't notice my reaction as he continued again. "Their divorce was finalized about a year plus ago after a very public scandal. Headlines blamed her for destructive behavior, missed performances and a meltdown on stage. Her career went downhill after that. No charges. No police business. Just silence."

I snatched the tablet from him and scrolled. The pictures were jarring. Lucia mid twirl,her face glowing with happiness and passion. In the next photo, she curtseyed low before the crowd,her eyes shining.

And then the final photo - Lucia outside a courthouse, sunken eyes and ruined makeup. The headline said: "Ballet's Brightest star Burns out in public meltdown."

The article was cruel, heartless.

I gripped the tablet tighter.

"I'm sure she doesn't even know that I know Matt," I sighed.

"She obviously doesn't," Adrian snorted.

"You've always been a shadow,boss."

"Don't speak of this to anyone, not even Cassius."

"Yes,boss."

Adrian left. I stared out at the city once more - but now the view was icy, like glass against my skin.

I really shouldn't care.

But here I am. Caring.

Lucia's softness wasn't a weakness. It was a cry for help buried under silence.

And now I knew she was once a part of the world of grace,stages and beauty - just like Clara.

No wonder the way she carried herself, even after everything,felt regal. She didn't let the world destroy her totally. At least not yet.

I recalled the way she covered Sophia, shielding her like a tigress but she was sinking slowly.

And no one cared.

But I did.

I slipped back into my sofa, clutching a stress ball.

Matt had never mentioned her name before. Not in all the years that we've been friends which means either he'd forgotten her..or he had buried her somewhere deep.

My phone rang but I shoved it aside. I was in no mood to take business calls.

I had a gut feeling that there was more to her fall than what the world knew.

I'd seen Matt twist media narratives before and suddenly, I wasn't sure who the bad guy was in their story but I was going to find out for myself.

Lucia's pov

Something felt off the moment I stepped into Sophia's ward.

The monitors were still beeping, but not in the serene, mechanical way I'd grown used to. This was erratic. Disordered. Like a countdown I couldn't grasp.

Her skin looked sick. Her lips had a bluish hue to them. And her little chest moved slower than it should. I let my bag fall to the floor as I rushed to her side.

"Sophia," I whispered, touching her hand.

"It's me. I brought your favorite jacket - yes the one with the ducks on it."

Nothing. She didn't even flutter her lashes.

I moved in closer. "Please Sophia, don't freak me out like this."

She moved. Not just a twitch, a full body jolt that pulled her head back and triggered a terrible gagging noise from her throat.

My heart leaped violently in my chest.

"Help! I NEED help over here!"

The door flew wide open. Nurses stormed the room instantly. A male doctor appeared in their midst, already giving orders.

"Seizure onset. Put her on some oxygen. Call Dr. Roman immediately!"

I was shoved to a corner.

I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe.

All I saw was my sister's body writhing on the bed while wires curled around her like vines. One of the nurses looked at me and gently pushed me towards the door.

I didn't fight back. I just stumbled forward, my legs weak beneath me.

"She managed to survive the seizure," Dr Roman said to me two hours later in his office, but her condition is only getting worse."

My voice was barely audible. "What do you mean "only getting worse?"

"Her lungs are weakening. We can't manage the internal damage here any longer."

"There has to be something else. Another hospital another -"

"There is," he cut in. "A remote hospital abroad. They've managed to develop a regenerative treatment procedure. It's not a hundred percent but it's her only saving grace."

"Well then, why are we still wasting time?"

I snapped. " Transfer her, Immediately!"

He didn't move. He just pushed a paper over the desk. " It'll cost one hundred thousand dollars. All of the payment up front."

My breath left my lungs. "You CANNOT be serious right now."

"Oh but I am." He replied. Then continued.

"Lucia, this must be so hard for you but she has more or less three weeks. If she doesn't get the treatment soonest. Her lungs will fail forever."

Three weeks.

A hundred thousand.

The numbers felt like a nightmare.

The ICU was chilly as I sat beside Sophia, holding her palm.

It felt more clammy than before.

Her eyelids finally opened.

"Sophia?" I leaned in closer.

She forced a faint smile before speaking.

"Don't....go."

"I'm not going anywhere," I cut in quickly.

"I swear. I'm going to fix everything."

She blinked at me with so much effort - like staying awake cost too much energy for her.

"I'll save you," I muttered, though I had no clue how.

Because saying it was the only thing I could hold on to right now.

I blasted through the billing office.

"I want full details of everything paid,"

I said to the woman at the front desk.

She raised her brows. "You just got the invoice."

"Generate it again."

A few minutes later, I held it in my shaky hands - staring at it still made my skin crawl.

There were huge payments. Unchecked.

Made in the last four weeks.

Definitely not from me.

Someone else was covering Sophia's bills.

Someone with money.

But I guess the money wasn't enough.

I got back to the waiting room and the walls felt like they were closing in on me, like I was trapped.

I called my old ballet academy. Left messages.phoned everyone on my contact list. Old classmates. College friends. No one bothered to respond. And the few that did gave me pity and excuses.

I needed more than pity.

Money was the goal.

And I had so very little of it to give.

No investments. Little savings. People just didn't bother to help when they weren't directly affected.

Just then a terrible idea invaded my head.

A last ditch attempt.

Something people only thought of out of desperation.

I smiled bitterly to myself...

Well I WAS in fact desperate so I was going to try it out.

The morning came and I couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep in fact. I stormed out of the hospital with a singular goal in my mind.

I left for a remote clinic downtown - the type that advertised nothing and monetized everything.

I stalked up to the front desk, hands sweaty.

"I'm here to register for egg donation. Or surrogacy. Whichever pays quickest."

The woman looked surprised. "Do you have a previous appointment, Miss?"

"No," I blurted out. "But I really must do this. Now."

She frowned. "Do you even know the risks and legal procedures?"

"I know that my sister is dying," I replied coldly. "So unless you like the death of a child on your conscience, fix me on the wretched list."

She held up a clipboard. "Wait a moment."

I found myself on the corner sofa, knees shaking, heart pounding. I lost track of how much time had passed.

Then the door opened wide.

A man strolled inside.

Average height. Grey suit. Rolex watch. Intense eyes.

He didn't strike me as a doctor.

In fact he reeked of trouble.

The desk lady pointed in my direction.

He grinned - and it wasn't a friendly grin.

"So, you're looking for fast cash huh?"

He asked.

I got up slowly. "Who are you?"

"Just a guy who can help."

His eyes scanned the file in his hand.

"Lucia, twenty five. Ballet instructor. Legal guardian. No family support whatsoever. No legal assets."

I froze. "You have access to medical records?"

He moved in closer. "I have premium access to important things."

"Who are you exactly?"

He grinned once more. "Let's just say I work with individuals who delight in giving hopeless people another shot. For a price of course."

Unease washed over me.

"What sort of price do you want?"

He clicked his tongue. "You sure ask a lot of questions for a desperate girlie.Do you want the money or not?"

I hesitated. "Of course I want the money but what's the catch?"

"Well you're correct. There's always a catch," he drawled. "But if you need it badly...you'll sign."

He gave me a tiny envelope. Weighty, sealed and suspicious.

"Read it when you're alone and ready. But once you do - there's no turning back."

I snatched the envelope.

I didn't say thanks.

I didn't even look him over again.

I just left the clinic, the envelope feeling like heavy metal in my hands.

And for the very first time ever. I wasn't sure of myself or who I was becoming.