Chapter 7 - Tommy's Fever Spikes and Liam's Private Jet
We arrived at a secure, undisclosed safe house on the outskirts of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, just as the first light of dawn broke over the tree line.
The safe house was a fortified compound concealed beneath the guise of a luxury lakeside estate. Within an hour of our arrival, a private medical team handpicked by Leo had reset Liam’s external fixator under deep sedation, administered four units of packed red blood cells, and resutured the torn muscle fascia.
By noon, Liam was awake, propped up in an adjustable hospital bed in the safe house’s private medical wing, reviewing encrypted surveillance feeds on a tablet.
I sat in a chair beside his bed, holding a secure satellite phone Leo had given me.
The voice on the other end belonged to Dr. Harrison, Tommy’s lead oncologist at Chicago Children's Memorial.
“Clara, I need you to listen to me very carefully,” Dr. Harrison said, his tone grim and heavy with urgency. “Tommy suffered an acute blast crisis two hours ago. His white blood cell count has spiked past fifty thousand. His kidneys are showing signs of acute stress.”
The world seemed to spin out from beneath my feet. “What... what does that mean, Doctor?”
“It means the standard chemotherapy is completely ineffective now,” Dr. Harrison replied softly. “He has less than seventy-two hours before multi-organ failure sets in. The experimental CAR-T cell trial in Zurich, Switzerland, has an open slot, but the enrollment fee and medical transport cost two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. And he has to be in their clinic by tomorrow morning.”
The satellite phone slipped from my numb fingers, bouncing off the hardwood floor.
Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. In twenty-four hours.
I covered my face with my hands, my shoulders shaking with silent, desperate sobs. I had fought so hard, endured mafia shootouts, poisoned needles, and terrifying warlords, only to fail the one person who mattered most in the world.
A firm, warm hand wrapped around my wrist, gently pulling my hands away from my face.
Liam was looking at me, his eyes blazing with an unyielding, fierce intensity.
“Pick up the phone, Clara,” he commanded softly.
I sniffled, wiping my cheeks. “Liam... I don't have the money... Tommy is out of time...”
“I said, pick up the phone and put it on speaker.”
Trembling, I picked up the satellite phone and tapped the speaker button.
“Dr. Harrison?” Liam’s deep, commanding voice filled the room.
“Yes? Who is this?”
“This is Liam Mercer. In twenty minutes, a medical transport helicopter will land on the helipad of Chicago Children’s Memorial. My personal medical team will take custody of Tommy, transfer him to my private Boeing 737 at O’Hare, and fly him directly to the Zurich pediatric clinic under full intensive care protocols.”
Dr. Harrison sputtered on the line. “Mr. Mercer, the trial costs two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and the clinic requires immediate wire transfer—”
“Three million dollars has already been wired to the Zurich clinic’s endowment fund,” Liam cut in, his voice brooking no argument. “They are clearing an entire surgical floor for Tommy as we speak. Get him prepped for flight immediately.”
“I... yes, sir! Right away!” Dr. Harrison hung up the phone.
I sat frozen, staring at Liam with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Three... three million dollars? Liam, why... why would you do that?”
Liam pulled me gently toward him until I was sitting on the edge of the mattress. He reached up, his thumb tenderly wiping away the remaining tears from my cheeks.
“Because you gave me back my life, Clara,” he whispered, his glacial eyes softening with a depth of love and devotion that took my breath away. “And because the woman who owns my heart should never have to cry over money again.”
My heart hammered wildly against my ribs. “Liam...”
“Tommy will live,” Liam promised, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, pulling my face down to his. “Now come here.”
This time, there were no interruptions, no gunshots, and no shadows.
His lips met mine in a deep, fierce, and possessive kiss that sent electric shockwaves through every fiber of my being. His kiss tasted of raw passion, unspoken promises, and a fierce, unyielding protection. I tangled my fingers in his dark hair, giving in completely to the overwhelming heat of the man who had conquered my world.
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When he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against mine, his breathing was as ragged as my own.
“Now,” Liam murmured, a dark, dangerous edge returning to his voice, “it is time to deal with my brother.”
