CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FORTY

RICHARD’S POV

"A heart transplant on demand? Honey, you're not at a pizza place ordering takeout." The nurse actually snorted with laughter, her name tag glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights – Brenda, it read. Like a Brenda would understand life or death situations.

The sound of her amusement sent a spike of pure rage through me. My mother, pale and trembling beside me, was living on borrowed time, and Brenda here thought it was a joke?

"Listen, Brenda," I said, leaning in, my voice low and dangerous. "I don't find this funny. And for your information, money is not an issue."

Brenda’s eyebrows shot up, her smile faltering for a nanosecond. Clearly, she was used to dealing with desperate, cash-strapped folks, not guys who could buy and sell her five times over before breakfast. Not that I’d ever waste my money on that.

"Oh, really?" she drawled, the sarcasm thick enough to spread on toast. “Well then, sir Moneybags, why don’t you just march yourself right in there and have a