Chapter 3 If Something Happens, I’ll Take Responsibility

The ice cream truck pulled out of the villa district and headed north.

Eleanor watched the scenery gradually change outside and frowned slightly.

This direction... didn't seem to be heading toward the slums.

"Uncle Leo, where are we going?" she couldn't help asking.

"Home," Leo said cheerfully.

"But I heard our home is in a poor neighborhood."

Leo seemed to smile. "That's just for show online — keeps the wrong people from getting too curious. Your parents have a special status, so they have to be careful."

Eleanor was taken aback. The questions she'd had before came flooding back.

Who exactly were her birth parents?

"So where do we live?"

"Crestview Estates."

Eleanor's heart skipped a beat.

Crestview Estates.

The most prime location in Sovereign City — a thousand-acre estate that outsiders simply couldn't get into.

Supposedly it belonged to a family that had been around for several hundred years.

In Sovereign City, everyone knew the name Crestview Estates, but hardly anyone had ever seen what it actually looked like inside.

It was like a legend — lavish, understated, and carrying a quiet air that said keep your distance.

She remembered one time Grace had attended a tea party and came home buzzing with excitement for days, telling anyone who would listen: "I went to Crestview Estates! I only got to stand outside and peek at it from a distance, but just that front gate alone was more impressive than every villa in our whole neighborhood put together! The lady there was a Mitchell — apparently a branch of the Mitchell family..."

Grace had said all this with a pride she couldn't even try to hide, as if some of that glamour had rubbed off on her.

"Getting to see it with my own eyes — that's enough for one lifetime! You have no idea. The fish in her garden pond cost hundreds of thousands of dollars each. Enough to keep an ordinary family going for years!"

Eleanor had been young then, and hearing all that, she'd thought it sounded like a world that had nothing to do with her.

How funny.

The wealthy family Grace had worked so hard to get close to turned out to be her own.

The Browns thought they'd made it into Sovereign City's circle of the rich and powerful — but next to a family like that, they were nothing.

She was quiet for a moment, then spoke up. "Uncle Leo, can we make a stop first?"

Leo tilted his head. "Where?"

"Sunrise Assisted Living Center."

Leo looked a little surprised. "What for?"

"My grandmother lives there." Eleanor's voice softened. "I want to see her one last time before I go home."

Leo glanced at her in the rearview mirror and didn't ask anything more. He just nodded. "Sure."

Eleanor really is kind, he thought. After everything the Browns put her through, she still cares about their elders. With a heart like that, no wonder she's one of us — a Mitchell.

Eleanor gave him the address and said nothing more after that.

When her adoptive parents were just starting their business, they'd been too caught up in work to pay her any attention. They didn't like her, and the household staff either hit her or yelled at her. It was her grandmother who had raised her.

Her grandmother, Nova Ramirez, couldn't read, but she knew how to teach Eleanor the names of flowers and plants, and on summer evenings she'd tell her stories.

When Eleanor was sick as a little girl, it was Nova who held her and soothed her, over and over again.

Then Eleanor started elementary school, and Nova suddenly had a stroke. Half her body stopped working. Eleanor's adoptive parents found it too much of a hassle and put Nova in a care home, barely visiting more than a few times a year.

All these years, Eleanor had gone to see Nova every single month, no matter what.

The ice cream truck turned onto a side road and stopped in front of Sunrise Assisted Living Center.

It was a fairly upscale place — ivy climbing the walls, a few old locust trees growing in the courtyard.

Eleanor walked through the corridor and pushed open the door to the room at the far end.

An old woman lay in the bed, thin and frail, her hair white, her eyes closed.

"Grandma." Eleanor stepped forward and took the old woman's hand.

The hand was so thin it was almost nothing but bone, and ice cold.

The cardiac monitor beside the bed suddenly started beeping rapidly.

Eleanor's expression changed. She quickly checked Nova's pupils and pulse.

Acute cardiac tamponade. She could go into cardiac arrest at any moment.

"Uncle Leo, find me a sterile surgical kit — now!" Eleanor's voice was urgent but steady.

Leo didn't know exactly what she was planning, but he took one look at the resolve on her face, gritted his teeth, and ran out of the room.

He'd barely left when a sharp voice came from the hallway.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

A middle-aged woman in a white coat strode in, her badge reading Deputy Chief Physician — Linda Smith, her face tight with displeasure.

"Who gave you permission to touch my patient? This is a care facility, not a place for you to cause trouble!"

"Dr. Smith, my grandmother has acute cardiac tamponade. She needs a pericardiocentesis right now." Eleanor kept her voice low, but there was a chill in it.

"Cardiac tamponade?" Linda glanced at the monitor and let out a scornful laugh. "Who's the doctor here — you or me? Sounds to me like you're trying to get rid of her so she stops being your problem."

Eleanor's brow tightened. Her fingers curled into a fist without thinking.

Linda crossed her arms, her tone growing more arrogant. "I know your grandmother's condition better than you do. We manage it with medication. What surgery? And if something goes wrong, are you going to take responsibility?"

Eleanor gave a cold laugh. "The fluid around her heart is compressing it right now. Medication won't fix that. By the time any drug kicks in, she'll already be gone."

"You—" Linda sputtered, then turned red with anger. "I am her attending physician. I say we use medication, so that's what we do. Bianca, get the furosemide — IV push!"

The nurse beside her hesitated, then turned to go.

"Stop." Eleanor's voice wasn't loud, but it made the nurse freeze.

She looked at Linda, her gaze cold as ice. "My grandmother is allergic to furosemide. Three years ago, that exact drug sent her into anaphylactic shock. It took four hours to bring her back. You're her attending physician — surely you knew that?"

Linda's expression went rigid.

She'd only taken over this patient three months ago and hadn't read through the case file carefully. She had no idea about the furosemide allergy.

"I — of course I knew!" Linda said, forcing her way through it. "I was going to use—"

She fumbled and stumbled, unable to get a coherent sentence out.

The monitor's beeping grew faster and more urgent. Eleanor stopped paying attention to her, stepped around her, and moved to the bedside.

"Out of my way."

Just then, Leo came back with an emergency kit. Eleanor took it, pulled on sterile gloves in one quick motion, and picked up the scalpel.

Linda's face went pale. "What are you doing? How dare you just cut into a patient like that? Who's going to take responsibility if something goes wrong?"

"I will." Eleanor didn't even look at her. The blade had already made a clean, precise cut in Nova's skin.

The incision was neat, exposing the tissue beneath.

She picked up the puncture needle, lined it up with the incision, and slowly pushed it in.

In that moment, something about her shifted entirely. She carried herself like someone who belonged at the head of an operating table.

Her movements were steady and careful.

After what felt like a long time, she said quietly:

"Done."

Dark red fluid began to draw into the syringe, and Nova's chest rose and fell in a smooth, even rhythm.

Eleanor didn't relax. She held her position until the blood oxygen reading on the monitor climbed back up to ninety-three, then slowly withdrew the needle and pressed gauze against the puncture site.

The whole thing had taken less than four minutes.

Leo leaned against the doorframe, his back soaked through with cold sweat.

He was a Mitchell. He'd seen plenty in his time. But those few minutes — he knew he'd never forget them.

A young woman, with no equipment, no assistance, had performed a pericardiocentesis by hand.

That didn't just take extraordinary skill. It took a level of composure that was almost unnatural.

The calm Eleanor had shown during that procedure surpassed every cardiothoracic specialist he'd ever seen.

So who exactly was this niece of his? How did she come to have skill like that?

Linda hadn't expected Eleanor to actually pull it off. Her face was written over with shock.

Clearly unwilling to let it go, she snapped, "This is illegal practice of medicine! I'm calling the police! I'll have you thrown in jail!"

"Who's practicing medicine illegally?"

A firm, clear voice came from the doorway — old, but full of energy.

A sharp-eyed elderly man walked briskly into the room, several white-coated doctors following behind him.

The moment Linda saw him, the color drained from her face. "D— Director?"