Chapter 10 - The Medicine of Life-10
The grand parlor was swarming with police officers, federal agents, and paramedics within minutes.
I emerged from the hidden study doorway holding Oliver wrapped tightly in my coat.
When the paramedics saw Oliver’s pale skin, high fever, and bruised body, they rushed a pediatric gurney into the foyer.
"Wait!" I shouted, stopping the emergency medical team. "He has Familial Amyloid Polyneuropathy! Do not give him standard pain medication—it will trigger an anaphylactic shock! He needs the specific neuro-stabilizer from the master vault!"
Grant rushed over, holding a small silver refrigerated case he had retrieved from Evelyn's private suite during the arrest.
"I have it!" Grant panted, handing the case to the lead flight paramedic. "It's the concentrated genetic stabilizer. Three milligrams, intravenous!"
The paramedic checked the label, verified the compound, and quickly prepared the injection.
Oliver lay on the gurney, his small hand holding onto my thumb with all his remaining strength. He looked up at the bright lights of the grand chandelier, then at me.
"Lady?" Oliver whispered weakly. "Are we going home now?"
Tears streamed down my face as I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his feverish forehead.
"Yes, sweet boy," I sobbed, smiling through my tears. "We are going home. And my name isn't 'lady'... my name is Mama."
Oliver’s big gray-blue eyes widened slightly. A faint, tired smile touched his small lips. "Mama..." he whispered, testing the word on his tongue like something precious he had found in the dark. "I like that name."
The paramedic administered the stabilizer injection into Oliver’s arm.
Within minutes, the terrible shaking in his small frame began to subside. The dark fever red on his cheeks relaxed into a soft, healthy pink, his breathing evening out into a deep, restful sleep.
Across the foyer, Evelyn Whitaker was being led away in heavy steel handcuffs by two State Troopers.
Her expensive cashmere sweater was torn, her silver hair wild, her eyes filled with insane, helpless fury as news camera crews—who had followed the police convoy up the mountain—flashed bright lights into her face through the open front doors.
She looked at Grant and me as she was pushed toward the police cruiser.
"You will have nothing!" Evelyn screamed hysterically, her voice carrying across the rain-swept courtyard. "You hear me, Grant?! You are ruined! I will cut you out of every trust! You will rot in poverty with that mountain peasant!"
Grant walked up to the edge of the porch, looking down at his mother with absolute calm.
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"Keep the money, Evelyn," Grant said, his voice carrying clearly over the storm. "We have everything we need."
The police car door slammed shut, cutting off her screams forever.
