Hidden Medical Records and Secret Trust Funds Reveal a Billionaire's Desperate Race Against Time to Save His Sick Son Before It Is Too Late
CHAPTER 2
The call cut through the roaring sound of my blood like a sharpened blade. I pressed the phone against my ear, my knuckles turning bone-white while my expensive leather shoes clattered across the polished marble lobby of my Manhattan headquarters.
"Elliot," Sienna’s voice came through the speaker, frail, trembling, and entirely stripped of the fierce pride she had carried for two agonizing years. "Please... he’s getting worse, and the doctors won't sign off on the specialist transfer without paternal authorization."
"I’m three minutes away, Sienna," I choked out, pushing past a crowd of stunned executives as my private driver threw open the door of the black Maybach waiting at the curb. "Tell them Elliot Van Doran is on his way, and they are to give Theo whatever he needs, regardless of cost."
The heavy rear door slammed shut, cutting off the bustling sounds of Fifth Avenue. I sank into the custom leather seating, my chest heaving as the city transformed into a blur of grey concrete and red brake lights through the rain-slicked windows.
"He asked for you, Elliot," Sienna whispered, a quiet sob escaping her throat that nearly tore my heart from my ribs. "In his fever last night, he kept clutching his small blue blanket and repeating a name he’s only heard in my quietest stories."
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"I'm coming, sweetheart," I promised, my voice cracking under the crushing weight of twenty months of self-imposed absence and cowardly excuses. "Hold on for me, please."
The engine roared as my driver ran a red light onto Madison Avenue, the siren blaring past holiday shoppers clutching wrapped packages. Every second felt like an eternity, every red light an insurmountable wall separating me from the little boy whose tiny lungs were fighting for oxygen in a sterile hospital room.
