Billionaire Hears a Black Girl Beg, “Please Save My Brother”… What He Does Next Will Shock You
**“Please save my brother.”** The voice pierced the cold air outside St. Augustine Medical Center, stopping Edward M. Blake, a billionaire tech magnate, dead in his tracks. He had just stepped out of the hospital after a day filled with photo ops and shallow handshakes, the kind of day that felt more like a performance than a purpose.
But now, there was a little girl standing before him, no taller than his waist. She wore a fraying coat and snow-stained boots, her cheeks red from the biting wind. Her braids were disheveled, and her mismatched gloves hung loosely from her small hands. Clutched under one arm was a teddy bear, its fur matted from years of love.
**“Please, sir,”** she repeated, tugging at his sleeve. **“My brother’s hurt. He fell and now he won’t wake up. The nurses said we gotta wait, but nobody’s coming. They say he needs a heart thing, but they won’t help him fast.”**
Edward blinked, confusion washing over him. **“My name’s Anna,”** she said quickly. **“I’m six. My brother Tobias is nine. We came here ‘cause he fell on the stairs. He’s sick inside. They said he’s got something bad with his heart.”**
Anna sniffled, trying to stand taller, to be braver. **“I thought maybe you could help. You’re rich, right? Rich people get things done faster.”**
Edward stared at her, caught between being insulted and moved. **“Anna, I’m not a doctor,”** he said gently.
**“But you have money, don’t you?”** she pressed, her eyes wide and earnest. **“And people listen to money.”**
Just behind her, someone shouted from the hospital lobby, **“We need a nurse here now!”** Anna’s eyes widened in panic. **“That’s him! That’s Tobias!”** She turned and ran, and Edward instinctively followed, closing the distance with long strides.
The Hospital Chaos
Inside, chaos erupted. A boy lay on the tile floor near the nurse’s station, his body limp, legs twisted beneath him. His lips were turning pale, and his chest rose shallowly. Two orderlies hovered nearby, unsure of what to do, while a young nurse was on the phone, her voice tight with worry but lacking urgency.
**“Where is the crash team?”** Edward barked. **“He’s a child, for God’s sake!”**
**“We’re waiting on a supervisor,”** the nurse replied, glancing at him but not moving from behind the counter.
Edward’s voice sharpened. **“You’re waiting for what? An approval form? He’s unconscious on your floor!”**
Anna was on her knees beside Tobias, patting his face gently. **“Toby, wake up. Please wake up.”**
A second nurse approached, older and clearly more experienced, but even she hesitated at the sight of Edward’s furious expression. **“Get a gurney,”** he ordered, his voice low and dangerous. **“Or I swear I’ll have this hospital’s board in federal court before sunrise.”**
There was a shift in the air, a hush of authority settling around him. Within seconds, Tobias was lifted onto a stretcher, oxygen brought to his lips, and a resident rushed over to assess. But Edward could see hesitation lingering in their eyes—the kind that only shows up when the patient is poor or black or both.
Anna gripped Tobias’s hand the entire time, whispering softly to him as the staff wheeled him down the hall toward intensive care. She didn’t cry; she just kept whispering. Edward stood back, fists clenched, breath visible in the cold air that still slipped through the automatic doors.
The nurse who had delayed earlier looked up at him, recognizing who he was now. Her lips parted to speak. **“Save it,”** Edward snapped. **“You already said enough by standing still.”**
Turning to Anna, he asked, **“Is there anyone else here with you?”**
She shook her head. **“Just me and him. Miss Jean, she lets us sleep at her house sometimes.”**
**“But she’s real old and can’t come far.”**
**“You don’t have insurance?”** he asked, though he already knew the answer.
**“No, sir,”** Anna said. **“They asked for a card. I gave them the one Mama used to have, but it didn’t work.”**
Edward inhaled deeply, feeling an ache he thought he’d buried long ago. Julia, his daughter, lost to the same condition—congenital heart failure. The same quiet slipping away, the same soundless suffering.
## The Unexpected Gift
Anna reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a yellow lollipop, dusty but still wrapped. She extended it toward him. **“It’s all I got,”** she said. **“But I want you to have it for helping Toby.”**
Edward looked at the candy, then at her. **“You keep it,”** he said. **“Give it to him when he wakes up.”**
Anna smiled, tired and worn, but real. **“I will.”**
Edward didn’t know why the lump in his throat was there or why his hands trembled slightly as he tucked them back into his coat pockets. But something had changed. Not in the hospital, but in him. For the first time in years, the man who could buy anything realized there was one thing he hadn’t purchased in a long, long time: a reason to care.
The hallway outside the pediatric ICU smelled of antiseptic and unanswered prayers. Edward sat stiffly on the cold vinyl bench, staring at the closed double doors through which Tobias had disappeared minutes ago—minutes that already felt like hours.
Anna sat beside him, her tiny frame hunched, feet swinging just above the floor. She clutched her teddy bear tightly, her fingers wrapped around its neck like she feared it would float away. But she wasn’t crying. Edward glanced at her. No tears, just silence and stillness—like someone much older trapped in a six-year-old’s body.
He had seen grief before—sudden, loud, messy. But this wasn’t that. This was something heavier, something that had settled into her bones a long time ago.
**“You don’t have to be strong right now,”** Edward said quietly.
She looked up at him, confused. **“You can cry, Anna,”** he added.
Anna shook her head slowly. **“Crying doesn’t help Tobias.”**
There was no anger in her voice, no defiance, just fact. He turned away, throat tight. This child had more control than most adults he knew, and it was killing him inside.
Across the hall, a nurse walked past and did a double take when she saw Edward. She leaned toward a colleague, whispering, **“That’s him, the tech guy.”**
**“The billionaire?”**
Anna heard it. She turned to Edward. **“Are you really a billionaire?”**
Edward sighed. **“I guess.”**
Her brow furrowed. **“So you could buy a lot of hearts if you wanted.”**
He almost smiled, but it faltered. **“Hearts aren’t like iPhones. You can’t buy them in bulk.”**
Anna looked down thoughtfully. **“Then why do people say rich people never die?”**
Edward blinked. **“Who says that?”**
**“Everybody,”** she replied. **“They say if you have enough money, you get to live longer.”**
He leaned back, folding his arms. **“Money can buy doctors, it can buy hospitals, but it can’t buy time. And it can’t buy life.”**
Anna didn’t respond. She just sat, swinging her legs. Then, as if out of nowhere, she asked, **“Did you ever lose someone?”**
Edward inhaled sharply. He considered lying, but the truth was already written across his face. **“Yes,”** he said. **“My daughter, Julia.”**
Anna was quiet then. **“Was she little like Tobias?”**
**“She was eight.”**
Anna nodded. **“Did she have a teddy bear, too?”**
Edward closed his eyes for a moment. **“She had a stuffed rabbit. Its ears were always bent.”**
**“Did she hear?”** Anna asked.
Edward hesitated. **“No, in New York.”**
**“Oh.”** Anna leaned her head against the bench. **“I bet they didn’t make you wait.”**
That hit harder than he expected. Before he could answer, the ICU doors swung open. A nurse stepped out, clipboard in hand, her face unreadable.
**“How is he?”** Edward stood.
The nurse glanced at Anna before speaking. **“He’s stable for now, but his heart function is deteriorating. We’re preparing to transfer him to an external bypass. But we can’t proceed further without a legal guardian’s consent.”**
**“I’ll sign,”** Anna said quickly.
The nurse blinked. **“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not old enough.”**
**“She’s all he has,”** Edward cut in. **“I understand, sir, but without next of kin or guardianship papers, we’re limited in what procedures we can authorize.”**
Edward’s tone hardened. **“So, let me guess. Unless someone with insurance or a fancy lawyer shows up, you’re just going to keep him sedated until it’s too late?”**
The nurse flinched. **“That’s not fair.”**
**“Neither is a child dying because of a technicality.”**
There was a pause, a long one. **“Is there anyone we can contact?”** she asked finally.
She shook her head. **“Just me and him. Miss Jean. But she’s real old. She can’t come downtown.”**
**“You don’t have insurance?”** he asked again.
**“No, sir,”** Anna said. **“They asked for a card. I gave them the one Mama used to have, but it didn’t work.”**
Edward inhaled deeply, feeling the ache return.
## A Glimmer of Hope
Anna reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a yellow lollipop, dusty but still wrapped. She extended it toward him. **“It’s all I got,”** she said. **“But I want you to have it for helping Toby.”**
Edward looked at the candy, then at her. **“You keep it,”** he said. **“Give it to him when he wakes up.”**
Anna smiled, tired but real. **“I will.”**
Edward didn’t know why the lump in his throat was there or why his hands trembled slightly as he tucked them back into his coat pockets. But something had changed. Not in the hospital, in him. For the first time in years, the man who could buy anything realized there was one thing he hadn’t purchased in a long, long time: a reason to care.
The hallway outside the pediatric ICU smelled of antiseptic and unanswered prayers. Edward sat stiffly on the cold vinyl bench, staring at the closed double doors through which Tobias had disappeared minutes ago—minutes that already felt like hours.
Anna sat beside him, her tiny frame hunched, feet swinging just above the floor. She clutched her teddy bear tightly, her fingers wrapped around its neck like she feared it would float away. But she wasn’t crying. Edward glanced at her. No tears, just silence and stillness—like someone much older trapped in a six-year-old’s body.
He had seen grief before—sudden, loud, messy. But this wasn’t that. This was something heavier, something that had settled into her bones a long time ago.
**“You don’t have to be strong right now,”** Edward said quietly.
She looked up at him, confused. **“You can cry, Anna,”** he added.
Anna shook her head slowly. **“Crying doesn’t help Tobias.”**
There was no anger in her voice, no defiance, just fact. He turned away, throat tight. This child had more control than most adults he knew, and it was killing him inside.
Across the hall, a nurse walked past and did a double take when she saw Edward. She leaned toward a colleague, whispering, **“That’s him, the tech guy.”**
**“The billionaire?”**
Anna heard it. She turned to Edward. **“Are you really a billionaire?”**
Edward sighed. **“I guess.”**
Her brow furrowed. **“So you could buy a lot of hearts if you wanted.”**
He almost smiled, but it faltered. **“Hearts aren’t like iPhones. You can’t buy them in bulk.”**
Anna looked down thoughtfully. **“Then why do people say rich people never die?”**
Edward blinked. **“Who says that?”**
**“Everybody,”** she replied. **“They say if you have enough money, you get to live longer.”**
He leaned back, folding his arms. **“Money can buy doctors, it can buy hospitals, but it can’t buy time. And it can’t buy life.”**
Anna didn’t respond. She just sat, swinging her legs. Then, as if out of nowhere, she asked, **“Did you ever lose someone?”**
Edward inhaled sharply. He considered lying, but the truth was already written across his face. **“Yes,”** he said. **“My daughter, Julia.”**
Anna was quiet then. **“Was she little like Tobias?”**
**“She was eight.”**
Anna nodded. **“Did she have a teddy bear, too?”**
Edward closed his eyes for a moment. **“She had a stuffed rabbit. Its ears were always bent.”**
**“Did she hear?”** Anna asked.
Edward hesitated. **“No, in New York.”**
**“Oh.”** Anna leaned her head against the bench. **“I bet they didn’t make you wait.”**
That hit harder than he expected. Before he could answer, the ICU doors swung open. A nurse stepped out, clipboard in hand, her face unreadable.
**“How is he?”** Edward stood.
The nurse glanced at Anna before speaking. **“He’s stable for now, but his heart function is deteriorating. We’re preparing to transfer him to an external bypass. But we can’t proceed further without a legal guardian’s consent.”**
**“I’ll sign,”** Anna said quickly.
The nurse blinked. **“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not old enough.”**
**“She’s all he has,”** Edward cut in. **“I understand, sir, but without next of kin or guardianship papers, we’re limited in what procedures we can authorize.”**
Edward’s tone hardened. **“So, let me guess. Unless someone with insurance or a fancy lawyer shows up, you’re just going to keep him sedated until it’s too late?”**
The nurse flinched. **“That’s not fair.”**
**“Neither is a child dying because of a technicality.”**
There was a pause, a long one. **“Is there anyone we can contact?”** she asked finally.
She shook her head. **“Just me and him. Miss Jean. But she’s real old. She can’t come downtown.”**
**“You don’t have insurance?”** he asked again.
**“No, sir,”** Anna said. **“They asked for a card. I gave them the one Mama used to have, but it didn’t work.”**
Edward inhaled deeply, feeling the ache return.
## A Glimmer of Hope
Anna reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a yellow lollipop, dusty but still wrapped. She extended it toward him. **“It’s all I got,”** she said. **“But I want you to have it for helping Toby.”**
Edward looked at the candy, then at her. **“You keep it,”** he said. **“Give it to him when he wakes up.”**
Anna smiled, tired but real. **“I will.”**
Edward didn’t know why the lump in his throat was there or why his hands trembled slightly as he tucked them back into his coat pockets. But something had changed. Not in the hospital, in him. For the first time in years, the man who could buy anything realized there was one thing he hadn’t purchased in a long, long time: a reason to care.
The hallway outside the pediatric ICU smelled of antiseptic and unanswered prayers. Edward sat stiffly on the cold vinyl bench, staring at the closed double doors through which Tobias had disappeared minutes ago—minutes that already felt like hours.
Anna sat beside him, her tiny frame hunched, feet swinging just above the floor. She clutched her teddy bear tightly, her fingers wrapped around its neck like she feared it would float away. But she wasn’t crying. Edward glanced at her. No tears, just silence and stillness—like someone much older trapped in a six-year-old’s body.
He had seen grief before—sudden, loud, messy. But this wasn’t that. This was something heavier, something that had settled into her bones a long time ago.
**“You don’t have to be strong right now,”** Edward said quietly.
She looked up at him, confused. **“You can cry, Anna,”** he added.
Anna shook her head slowly. **“Crying doesn’t help Tobias.”**
There was no anger in her voice, no defiance, just fact. He turned away, throat tight. This child had more control than most adults he knew, and it was killing him inside.
Across the hall, a nurse walked past and did a double take when she saw Edward. She leaned toward a colleague, whispering, **“That’s him, the tech guy.”**
**“The billionaire?”**
Anna heard it. She turned to Edward. **“Are you really a billionaire?”**
Edward sighed. **“I guess.”**
Her brow furrowed. **“So you could buy a lot of hearts if you wanted.”**
He almost smiled, but it faltered. **“Hearts aren’t like iPhones. You can’t buy them in bulk.”**
Anna looked down thoughtfully. **“Then why do people say rich people never die?”**
Edward blinked. **“Who says that?”**
**“Everybody,”** she replied. **“They say if you have enough money, you get to live longer.”**
He leaned back, folding his arms. **“Money can buy doctors, it can buy hospitals, but it can’t buy time. And it can’t buy life.”**
Anna didn’t respond. She just sat, swinging her legs. Then, as if out of nowhere, she asked, **“Did you ever lose someone?”**
Edward inhaled sharply. He considered lying, but the truth was already written across his face. **“Yes,”** he said. **“My daughter, Julia.”**
Anna was quiet then. **“Was she little like Tobias?”**
**“She was eight.”**
Anna nodded. **“Did she have a teddy bear, too?”**
Edward closed his eyes for a moment. **“She had a stuffed rabbit. Its ears were always bent.”**
**“Did she hear?”** Anna asked.
Edward hesitated. **“No, in New York.”**
**“Oh.”** Anna leaned her head against the bench. **“I bet they didn’t make you wait.”**
That hit harder than he expected. Before he could answer, the ICU doors swung open. A nurse stepped out, clipboard in hand, her face unreadable.
**“How is he?”** Edward stood.
The nurse glanced at Anna before speaking. **“He’s stable for now, but his heart function is deteriorating. We’re preparing to transfer him to an external bypass. But we can’t proceed further without a legal guardian’s consent.”**
**“I’ll sign,”** Anna said quickly.
The nurse blinked. **“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not old enough.”**
**“She’s all he has,”** Edward cut in. **“I understand, sir, but without next of kin or guardianship papers, we’re limited in what procedures we can authorize.”**
Edward’s tone hardened. **“So, let me guess. Unless someone with insurance or a fancy lawyer shows up, you’re just going to keep him sedated until it’s too late?”**
The nurse flinched. **“That’s not fair.”**
**“Neither is a child dying because of a technicality.”**
There was a pause, a long one. **“Is there anyone we can contact?”** she asked finally.
She shook her head. **“Just me and him. Miss Jean. But she’s real old. She can’t come downtown.”**
**“You don’t have insurance?”** he asked again.
**“No, sir,”** Anna said. **“They asked for a card. I gave them the one Mama used to have, but it didn’t work.”**
Edward inhaled deeply, feeling the ache return.
## A Glimmer of Hope
Anna reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a yellow lollipop, dusty but still wrapped. She extended it toward him. **“It’s all I got,”** she said. **“But I want you to have it for helping Toby.”**
Edward looked at the candy, then at her. **“You keep it,”** he said. **“Give it to him when he wakes up.”**
Anna smiled, tired but real. **“I will.”**
Edward didn’t know why the lump in his throat was there or why his hands trembled slightly as he tucked them back into his coat pockets. But something had changed. Not in the hospital, in him. For the first time in years, the man who could buy anything realized there was one thing he hadn’t purchased in a long, long time: a reason to care.
The hallway outside the pediatric ICU smelled of antiseptic and unanswered prayers. Edward sat stiffly on the cold vinyl bench, staring at the closed double doors through which Tobias had disappeared minutes ago—minutes that already felt like hours.
Anna sat beside him, her tiny frame hunched, feet swinging just above the floor. She clutched her teddy bear tightly, her fingers wrapped around its neck like she feared it would float away. But she wasn’t crying. Edward glanced at her. No tears, just silence and stillness—like someone much older trapped in a six-year-old’s body.
He had seen grief before—sudden, loud, messy. But this wasn’t that. This was something heavier, something that had settled into her bones a long time ago.
**“You don’t have to be strong right now,”** Edward said quietly.
She looked up at him, confused. **“You can cry, Anna,”** he added.
Anna shook her head slowly. **“Crying doesn’t help Tobias.”**
There was no anger in her voice, no defiance, just fact. He turned away, throat tight. This child had more control than most adults he knew, and it was killing him inside.
Across the hall, a nurse walked past and did a double take when she saw Edward. She leaned toward a colleague, whispering, **“That’s him, the tech guy.”**
**“The billionaire?”**
Anna heard it. She turned to Edward. **“Are you really a billionaire?”**
Edward sighed. **“I guess.”**
Her brow furrowed. **“So you could buy a lot of hearts if you wanted.”**
He almost smiled, but it faltered. **“Hearts aren’t like iPhones. You can’t buy them in bulk.”**
Anna looked down thoughtfully. **“Then why do people say rich people never die?”**
Edward blinked. **“Who says that?”**
**“Everybody,”** she replied. **“They say if you have enough money, you get to live longer.”**
He leaned back, folding his arms. **“Money can buy doctors, it can buy hospitals, but it can’t buy time. And it can’t buy life.”**
Anna didn’t respond. She just sat, swinging her legs. Then, as if out of nowhere, she asked, **“Did you ever lose someone?”**
Edward inhaled sharply. He considered lying, but the truth was already written across his face. **“Yes,”** he said. **“My daughter, Julia.”**
Anna was quiet then. **“Was she little like Tobias?”**
**“She was eight.”**
Anna nodded. **“Did she have a teddy bear, too?”**
Edward closed his eyes for a moment. **“She had a stuffed rabbit. Its ears were always bent.”**
**“Did she hear?”** Anna asked.
Edward hesitated. **“No, in New York.”**
**“Oh.”** Anna leaned her head against the bench. **“I bet they didn’t make you wait.”**
That hit harder than he expected. Before he could answer, the ICU doors swung open. A nurse stepped out, clipboard in hand, her face unreadable.
**“How is he?”** Edward stood.
The nurse glanced at Anna before speaking. **“He’s stable for now, but his heart function is deteriorating. We’re preparing to transfer him to an external bypass. But we can’t proceed further without a legal guardian’s consent.”**
**“I’ll sign,”** Anna said quickly.
The nurse blinked. **“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not old enough.”**
**“She’s all he has,”** Edward cut in. **“I understand, sir, but without next of kin or guardianship papers, we’re limited in what procedures we can authorize.”**
Edward’s tone hardened. **“So, let me guess. Unless someone with insurance or a fancy lawyer shows up, you’re just going to keep him sedated until it’s too late?”**
The nurse flinched. **“That’s not fair.”**
**“Neither is a child dying because of a technicality.”**
There was a pause, a long one. **“Is there anyone we can contact?”** she asked finally.
She shook her head. **“Just me and him. Miss Jean. But she’s real old. She can’t come downtown.”**
**“You don’t have insurance?”** he asked again.
**“No, sir,”** Anna said. **“They asked for a card. I gave them the one Mama used to have, but it didn’t work.”**
Edward inhaled deeply, feeling the ache return.
## A Glimmer of Hope
Anna reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a yellow lollipop, dusty but still wrapped. She extended it toward him. **“It’s all I got,”** she said. **“But I want you to have it for helping Toby.”**
Edward looked at the candy, then at her. **“You keep it,”** he said. **“Give it to him when he wakes up.”**
Anna smiled, tired but real. **“I will.”**
Edward didn’t know why the lump in his throat was there or why his hands trembled slightly as he tucked them back into his coat pockets. But something had changed. Not in the hospital, in him. For the first time in years, the man who could buy anything realized there was one thing he hadn’t purchased in a long, long time: a reason to care.
The hallway outside the pediatric ICU smelled of antiseptic and unanswered prayers. Edward sat stiffly on the cold vinyl bench, staring at the closed double doors through which Tobias had disappeared minutes ago—minutes that already felt like hours.
Anna sat beside him, her tiny frame hunched, feet swinging just above the floor. She clutched her teddy bear tightly, her fingers wrapped around its neck like she feared it would float away. But she wasn’t crying. Edward glanced at her. No tears, just silence and stillness—like someone much older trapped in a six-year-old’s body.
He had seen grief before—sudden, loud, messy. But this wasn’t that. This was something heavier, something that had settled into her bones a long time ago.
**“You don’t have to be strong right now,”** Edward said quietly.
She looked up at him, confused. **“You can cry, Anna,”** he added.
Anna shook her head slowly. **“Crying doesn’t help Tobias.”**
There was no anger in her voice, no defiance, just fact. He turned away, throat tight. This child had more control than most adults he knew, and it was killing him inside.
Across the hall, a nurse walked past and did a double take when she saw Edward. She leaned toward a colleague, whispering, **“That’s him, the tech guy.”**
**“The billionaire?”**
Anna heard it. She turned to Edward. **“Are you really a billionaire?”**
Edward sighed. **“I guess.”**
Her brow furrowed. **“So you could buy a lot of hearts if you wanted.”**
He almost smiled, but it faltered. **“Hearts aren’t like iPhones. You can’t buy them in bulk.”**
Anna looked down thoughtfully. **“Then why do people say rich people never die?”**
Edward blinked. **“Who says that?”**
**“Everybody,”** she replied. **“They say if you have enough money, you get to live longer.”**
He leaned back, folding his arms. **“Money can buy doctors, it can buy hospitals, but it can’t buy time. And it can’t buy life.”**
Anna didn’t respond. She just sat, swinging her legs. Then, as if out of nowhere, she asked, **“Did you ever lose someone?”**
Edward inhaled sharply. He considered lying, but the truth was already written across his face. **“Yes,”** he said. **“My daughter, Julia.”**
Anna was quiet then. **“Was she little like Tobias?”**
**“She was eight.”**
Anna nodded. **“Did she have a teddy bear, too?”**
Edward closed his eyes for a moment. **“She had a stuffed rabbit. Its ears were always bent.”**
**“Did she hear?”** Anna asked.
Edward hesitated. **“No, in New York.”**
**“Oh.”** Anna leaned her head against the bench. **“I bet they didn’t make you wait.”**
That hit harder than he expected. Before he could answer, the ICU doors swung open. A nurse stepped out, clipboard in hand, her face unreadable.
**“How is he?”** Edward stood.
The nurse glanced at Anna before speaking. **“He’s stable for now, but his heart function is deteriorating. We’re preparing to transfer him to an external bypass. But we can’t proceed further without a legal guardian’s consent.”**
**“I’ll sign,”** Anna said quickly.
The nurse blinked. **“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not old enough.”**
**“She’s all he has,”** Edward cut in. **“I understand, sir, but without next of kin or guardianship papers, we’re limited in what procedures we can authorize.”**
Edward’s tone hardened. **“So, let me guess. Unless someone with insurance or a fancy lawyer shows up, you’re just going to keep him sedated until it’s too late?”**
The nurse flinched. **“That’s not fair.”**
**“Neither is a child dying because of a technicality.”**
There was a pause, a long one. **“Is there anyone we can contact?”** she asked finally.
She shook her head. **“Just me and him. Miss Jean. But she’s real old. She can’t come downtown.”**
**“You don’t have insurance?”** he asked again.
**“No, sir,”** Anna said. **“They asked for a card. I gave them the one Mama used to have, but it didn’t work.”**
Edward inhaled deeply, feeling the ache return.
## A Glimmer of Hope
Anna reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a yellow lollipop, dusty but still wrapped. She extended it toward him. **“It’s all I got,”** she said. **“But I want you to have it for helping Toby.”**
Edward looked at the candy, then at her. **“You keep it,”** he said. **“Give it to him when he wakes up.”**
Anna smiled, tired but real. **“I will.”**
Edward didn’t know why the lump in his throat was there or why his hands trembled slightly as he tucked them back into his coat pockets. But something had changed. Not in the hospital, in him. For the first time in years, the man who could buy anything realized there was one thing he hadn’t purchased in a long, long time: a reason to care.
The hallway outside the pediatric ICU smelled of antiseptic and unanswered prayers. Edward sat stiffly on the cold vinyl bench, staring at the closed double doors through which Tobias had disappeared minutes ago—minutes that already felt like hours.
Anna sat beside him, her tiny frame hunched, feet swinging just above the floor. She clutched her teddy bear tightly, her fingers wrapped around its neck like she feared it would float away. But she wasn’t crying. Edward glanced at her. No tears, just silence and stillness—like someone much older trapped in a six-year-old’s body.
He had seen grief before—sudden, loud, messy. But this wasn’t that. This was something heavier, something that had settled into her bones a long time ago.
**“You don’t have to be strong right now,”** Edward said quietly.
She looked up at him, confused. **“You can cry, Anna,”** he added.
Anna shook her head slowly. **“Crying doesn’t help Tobias.”**
There was no anger in her voice, no defiance, just fact. He turned away, throat tight. This child had more control than most adults he knew, and it was killing him inside.
Across the hall, a nurse walked past and did a double take when she saw Edward. She leaned toward a colleague, whispering, **“That’s him, the tech guy.”**
**“The billionaire?”**
Anna heard it. She turned to Edward. **“Are you really a billionaire?”**
Edward sighed. **“I guess.”**
Her brow furrowed. **“So you could buy a lot of hearts if you wanted.”**
He almost smiled, but it faltered. **“Hearts aren’t like iPhones. You can’t buy them in bulk.”**
Anna looked down thoughtfully. **“Then why do people say rich people never die?”**
Edward blinked. **“Who says that?”**
**“Everybody,”** she replied. **“They say if you have enough money, you get to live longer.”**
He leaned back, folding his arms. **“Money can buy doctors, it can buy hospitals, but it can’t buy time. And it can’t buy life.”**
Anna didn’t respond. She just sat, swinging her legs. Then, as if out of nowhere, she asked, **“Did you ever lose someone?”**
Edward inhaled sharply. He considered lying, but the truth was already written across his face. **“Yes,”** he said. **“My daughter, Julia.”**
Anna was quiet then. **“Was she little like Tobias?”**
**“She was eight.”**
Anna nodded. **“Did she have a teddy bear, too?”**
Edward closed his eyes for a moment. **“She had a stuffed rabbit. Its ears were always bent.”**
**“Did she hear?”** Anna asked.
Edward hesitated. **“No, in New York.”**
**“Oh.”** Anna leaned her head against the bench. **“I bet they didn’t make you wait.”**
That hit harder than he expected. Before he could answer, the ICU doors swung open. A nurse stepped out, clipboard in hand, her face unreadable.
**“How is he?”** Edward stood.
The nurse glanced at Anna before speaking. **“He’s stable for now, but his heart function is deteriorating. We’re preparing to transfer him to an external bypass. But we can’t proceed further without a legal guardian’s consent.”**
**“I’ll sign,”** Anna said quickly.
The nurse blinked. **“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not old enough.”**
**“She’s all he has,”**
