Chapter 1: The need for change

Harry Winstone paced the cold hospital corridor, the words of the doctor still ringing in his ears.

“Mr. Winstone, I’m afraid your foster mother’s condition has worsened. We need to operate immediately. The cost is three hundred thousand pounds, and we need it by five this evening,” the doctor had said, his tone gentle yet firm.

Harry felt the ground slip from beneath his feet. “Three hundred thousand pounds?” he repeated, his voice hollow. “How am I supposed to get that much money in a few hours?”

“I understand it’s a lot to ask, but we don’t have much time. Without the operation, she won’t make it through the night,” the doctor explained, his eyes filled with sympathy before he walked away.

Harry clenched his fists, trying to steady himself. He turned and made his way to Celia’s ward, his heart heavy with fear and desperation. Pushing open the door, he saw her lying motionless on the bed, her once vibrant face now pale and frail.

“Hey, Mum,” he whispered, sitting beside her and taking her hand in his. “I’m going to get the money. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He gently tucked the blanket around her, his vision blurring with tears. How could he let her down now, after all she had done for him?

“Think, Harry, think!” he muttered to himself, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his contacts. He stopped at his uncle’s number, Max Potter. Taking a deep breath, he dialed.

“Hello, Max? It’s Harry.”

“Harry? What do you want?” Max’s voice was cold and dismissive.

“I need your help, Uncle. Mum… she needs an operation urgently. I need three hundred thousand pounds,” Harry said, his voice breaking.

Max chuckled darkly. “Three hundred thousand? Why don’t you sell your kidney, Harry? I’m sure it’ll fetch a good price.”

Harry’s heart sank. “Please, Uncle, I’m begging you. I don’t have anyone else to turn to.”

“I’m not a charity, Harry. And quite frankly, this isn’t my problem. You should have thought about this before taking on such a burden,” Max sneered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to.”

The line went dead, and Harry stared at his phone, feeling more alone than ever.

“Sell my kidney?” he muttered, anger and despair bubbling inside him. “What a bastard.”

He pushed the phone back into his pocket and returned to Celia’s side. Her eyes fluttered open weakly, and she looked at him with a tired smile.

“Harry… don’t… don’t beg for money anymore,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’ve lived a good life. It’s time… to let go.”

“No, Mum, don’t talk like that,” Harry pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll get the money. I’ll find a way.”

“Don’t… hurt yourself… for me,” she gasped, tears pooling in her eyes. “I just want you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Mum, stop it,” Harry choked, gripping her hand tightly. “You have to stay strong. You always talked about wanting to see me get married, to have grandchildren. Remember?”

A small, weak smile tugged at her lips, but her eyes closed as her breathing grew labored. Panic surged through Harry as the monitors beeped erratically.

“Doctor! Somebody, help!” he shouted, his heart pounding.

Nurses rushed in, wheeling Celia out of the room and into the intensive care unit. Harry stood frozen, watching helplessly as they disappeared down the hall.

Minutes felt like hours as he waited outside the ICU, his mind racing. When the doctor finally emerged, Harry’s legs felt like jelly.

“Mr. Winstone, we’ve managed to stabilize her for now, but she won’t make it through the night without the operation,” the doctor said, his face grim.

Harry nodded numbly, the reality of the situation crashing down on him. He was utterly powerless. He sank onto a chair, burying his face in his hands.

“Why? Why does this keep happening?” he whispered to himself, his voice broken.

For a moment, he considered giving up. But then he remembered her smile, the way she had worked tirelessly to give him a better life. He couldn’t let her go like this.

Swallowing his pride, he pulled out his phone again. His hands trembled as he dialed another number he had never thought he would call.

“Richard… it’s Harry,” he said when the call connected.

“Harry! My boy, what a surprise!” Richard’s voice was filled with genuine joy. “What can I do for you?”

“I… I need help,” Harry admitted, his voice cracking. “Mum needs an operation. I need three hundred thousand pounds by this evening.”

“Say no more, Harry. I’m on my way,” Richard said immediately. “And… I’m glad you called.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, feeling a strange mix of relief and bitterness.

Thirty minutes later, Richard arrived, his Rolls-Royce gliding to a stop in front of the hospital. He stepped out, his presence commanding and imposing. Harry shifted uncomfortably as Richard approached, a warm smile on his face.

“Harry, it’s good to see you,” Richard said, pulling him into a brief hug.

“Yeah… thanks for coming,” Harry muttered, still feeling the weight of everything that had happened.

Richard handed him a bank card. “Your father has transferred one hundred million pounds into your account. It’s pocket money. Also, several companies in the city are now under your name.”

Harry stared at the card, his mind struggling to process what Richard had just said. “A hundred million?”

“Yes. And more where that came from. But right now, let’s take care of your mother,” Richard said gently.

Harry nodded, his mind spinning. He hurried to the payment counter and handed over the card. Within minutes, the bill was settled, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He turned to Richard, gratitude and confusion warring within him. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Just… don’t push us away anymore, Harry,” Richard said softly. “We’re family.”

Harry nodded, unable to find the words. Just as he thought things were looking up, his phone rang. It was Amelia.

“Amelia, I—” he began, but she cut him off.

“Harry, I can’t do this anymore,” she said, her voice cold and distant. “I don’t want to be dragged down by your problems. Your mother, your life… it’s all too much.”

“What?” Harry’s heart sank. “You’re breaking up with me?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, but I need to look out for myself,” Amelia said, her tone indifferent. “Goodbye, Harry.”

The call ended, and Harry stood there, staring at his phone in disbelief. He felt as though the ground had been pulled from under him once again.

Richard placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry nodded, tears blurring his vision as he looked at the hospital entrance. He had saved his mother, but he had lost so much in the process.

Standing in the dimly lit hallway, he felt the weight of his new reality pressing down on him. He was no longer just Harry Winstone, the boy who grew up in a small flat with a loving foster mother. He was now the heir to the Winstone family, with all the responsibilities and challenges that came with it.

And he was completely alone.

“Let’s go inside,” Richard said quietly. “You’re not alone in this.”

But as Harry looked at his reflection in the glass doors, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had changed, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for what lay ahead.