Chapter 7 - The Diagnosis at Presbyterian
Thirty minutes later, Edward stood outside the private VIP room on the tenth floor of New York-Presbyterian Hospital in Manhattan.
Dr. Richard Vance, Edward's younger brother and chief of internal medicine, stepped out of the room holding a digital medical tablet.
"How is she, Richard?" Edward asked, his hands clasped so tightly behind his back that his knuckles turned stark white.
"She is suffering from severe acute exhaustion, advanced malnutrition, and double pneumonia, Edward," Dr. Vance reported grimly.
"Her body has been pushed beyond its absolute human limits... if you hadn't brought her in today, she wouldn't have survived the night."
Edward leaned his heavy forehead against the cold glass wall of the hospital corridor, his body shaking with silent sobs.
For seven long years, while he lived in a forty-million-dollar penthouse in Upper East Side, his only daughter had been starving in a slum.
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"Who did this to her, Richard?" Edward growled through his teeth, his voice dropping into a deadly, low register.
"We ran a full toxicological panel, Edward," Dr. Vance whispered softly. "We found trace amounts of slow-acting neurotoxins in her blood."
