“I came to him.” Angelica’s weak voice slashed through my rage. “I’m so sorry to cause tension between the two of you. That was not my intention.”
I turned back to look at her.
“I went to his office and begged him to help me. He said there was nothing he could do, but I kept pleading and pleading…until he arranged this.” Her eyes started to shine with moisture, the tears pending. “I love my husband so much, and I can’t give up. You’re the only one who can help him, Dr. Hamilton—”
“Dex.” I shouldn’t cut her off, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind right now. “My name is Dex.” I’d left my title behind over a year ago, and I didn’t miss it. It wasn’t my identity anymore.
She nodded slightly. “Of course, I apologize.”
Even though Dad had been pressured into this, I was still pissed off that he’d allowed this to happen. If someone asked me for a connection to my father, I would talk to him about it first. I wouldn’t just bring them to his home and catch him off guard. It was completely inappropriate, regardless of how desperate she was. It was a huge violation of trust. “Look, Mrs. Torres, I’m sorry about your husband’s situation. Truly, I am. But I’m not a doctor refusing to take on a patient. I’m not a doctor. Period.”
Her eyes started to well up even more, and she grabbed the folder of papers beside her. “Please. You’re my last hope. I’ll do anything…please.”
I bowed my head because this was fucking torture. And my dad put me through it intentionally. “I haven’t done a surgery in over a year—”
“But you’re the best. God, please.” Now she sniffled over and over as she combated the choking sobs. “You’re the only one who can treat inoperable conditions and get results. You’re the only one who has the brilliance, the dedication, and the compassion. Please. My husband will die without you.”
I raised my head and looked at her—forcing myself to be a man and look her in the eye. “The reason I left surgery is because my last patient died during a routine procedure. To this day, I don’t know what happened—”
“I understand the risk, Dr. Hamilton—” She quickly realized her error. “I mean, Dex. I understand that no surgeon can have a perfect record. But if he doesn’t have this surgery, he’ll die within a few months. We both agree we’d rather take the risk on the table than wait for him to drop dead. Please.”
I turned to look at my father, giving him an enraged look that raised the temperature of the room by several degrees.
He looked away, like he couldn’t take it.
She held up the folder. “Just look at his medical records. Please.”
“I don’t have a license.”
Dad intervened. “We both know that’s a simple matter of filling out paperwork, Dex.”
I clenched my teeth in rage and tried to keep back my retort, but I couldn’t. “You aren’t a part of this conversation. Butt out.”
Dad turned back to me, his eyes angry at the way I spoke to him.
Didn’t give a damn. He was in the wrong—and we both knew it.
Mom stood behind the couch and placed her hand on Dad’s shoulder, like she was silently telling him to let it go.
When I turned back to Angelica, she was in front of me, holding out the folder of medical records.
I didn’t take them. “Mrs. Torres—”
“I’m not leaving until you consider it. You think I would have gone to such lengths if I didn’t believe in you?” The tears cascaded down her cheeks as the sobs racked her body. “I believe in you, Dex. I believe you’re the only hope that my husband won’t die young. He’s the father to my three children…he’s our whole world. You can give me my family. I’ll be all my kids have left. Can you imagine losing one of your parents?”
That was a deep fucking cut because I remembered my mother’s cancer diagnosis like it had just been revealed. With my kind of cognition, everything that happened seemed recent, even if it was years ago. I’d never been so scared in my life because the loss of my mother would have fucked up every single member of our family. Dad never would have recovered. I never would have recovered.
Without looking at her, I took the folder.
She gasped a deep breath, like she just made a miracle happen. “Thank you—”
“I will consider it. I’m not agreeing to anything.”
“Of course. Thank you…thank you.” She brought her flattened palms together in a silent gesture of gratitude. She grabbed her purse off the couch then headed to the door. “Thank you so much…to all of you.” Then she walked out and left us alone in the condo.
I held the folder in my hand but didn’t open it. I was too furious to sort through the mountain of paperwork that would give me a static picture of this man’s health. All the blood work, the scans, every documented piece of evidence that pointed to a condition that would probably claim his life.