Forbidden Heir (The Heirs 8)

“What treatment options are we looking at?” Uncle Carter asks.

No one makes a sound as Dr. Friedman explains, “First we’ll remove as much as we can of the tumor. During the surgery, I’ll inject twenty injections of what we like to refer to as Trojan horse therapy. We take the common cold virus… adenovirus, which is highly infectious, and strip it apart, so it doesn’t spread like wildfire. We’ve added a herpes virus DNA into it, so when we administer the injections, the virus infects the remaining tumor. Twenty-four hours later, we’ll give Danny a Valtrex treatment, which will kill the herpes, and along with it, the tumor.”

“So, you can kill it all?” Uncle Carter asks, hope making his voice hoarse.

“We’re going to try. Danny will also have to receive daily radiation treatments for six weeks, and after that chemotherapy for six months.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, hearing what she’ll have to endure.

“But like I said, in most cases, the tumor returns,” Dr. Friedman ends his explanation.

“Are there cases where it doesn’t return?” Uncle Carter asks.

“I have one patient who just made the eleven-year mark,” Dr. Friedman answers.

“So, there’s a chance this could work?” Aunt Della asks. “Sorry, I’m Della, Danny’s mom. My mother passed away because of Glioblastoma.”

“There is always a chance. We keep looking for new ways. Glioblastoma is not a curable disease, though. We can only try to manage it.” Dr. Friedman pauses, then he asks, “Is Danny with you?”

Danny clears her throat. “I’m here.”

“You’re checking in tomorrow morning, right?” Dr. Friedman asks.

“Yes.”

“Try to be here at seven am. There’s a lot we need to do before surgery.”

“I’ll be there,” Danny says.

“Is there anything else I can help with?” Dr. Friedman asks.

“Do you know who I am, doctor?” Uncle Carter asks.

“Yes, Sir. I do.”

“I’ll pay anything. I’ll start whatever foundation you want me to. Make Danny your priority. Please,” Uncle Carter says, his voice hoarse.

“I’ll do everything in my power to help her,” Dr. Friedman replies.

When the call ends, it all still feels hopeless.

I can see on everyone’s faces they feel the same.

I walk to Danny and wrap my arm around her waist. “I think we should get back to LA as soon as possible.”

Danny nods. “Yeah, I have things to get in order before the surgery.”

Uncle Carter makes another call so they can get the private jet fueled and ready.

Danny presses to my side as she says, “I can’t tell the rest of the family and our friends. This was hard enough. Could you all just spread the word?”

No one replies as they just stare at Danny with grief-stricken expressions.

“Please.” Danny’s voice is tight.

“I’ll tell everyone,” I say when it’s clear her family’s too in shock to think straight.

Taking my phone out, I begin to create a group chat, and it takes a couple of minutes to add everyone who needs to be told. Not wanting to send a text, I decide on a voice clip.

I walk to the bedroom, and shutting the door behind me, I press record. “Hey, everyone. I’m sorry for telling you this way, but to call everyone is not an option. Danny’s sick. She has Glioblastoma. It’s… it’s brain cancer. The worst kind. There are treatment plans in place. I’ll keep you up to date via this chat with any progress she makes.” I send the message needing a moment to just breathe, and then I start the next voice clip. “Danny’s strong. She’s going to fight this. There is hope. She’s obviously not taking it well, none of us are. If you reach out to her, don’t treat her like she’s dying.” My voice breaks, and after clearing my throat, I say, “She’s checking in to Cedars-Sinai tomorrow. The surgery is Tuesday. Like I said, I’ll send regular updates via this chat.”

I watch as our family and friends mark it as read, and then the bubbles begin to jump like crazy.

I exit the app, and before I can turn off my phone, it begins to ring. Seeing it’s Mom, I answer, “Hey, Mom.”

I hear Mom take a deep breath, and then her calm voice comes over the line. “Hey, how are you holding up?”

“I’m not,” I admit. “Not at all.”

“You need to be strong for Danny, and I’ll be strong for you,” Mom says.

Closing my eyes, I’m overwhelmed with the urge to break down.

“Deep breaths, Ryker. Take deep breaths. There’s a long road ahead of you. Don’t look at it as a death sentence for Danny. Make every day special and comfortable for her.”

“Okay,” I murmur.

“She’s still here. That’s what matters. Danny’s still here,” Mom says, her voice soft and filled with empathy.

“I know.”

“I’ll meet you at the hospital tomorrow. Okay?”

I begin to nod. “Thanks, Mom.”

“You can do this,” Mom encourages me.

To think my mother deals with this on a daily basis. God.