She Was Never Just the Billionaire’s Wife (Natasha and Chase) novel Chapter 76

(Chase)

The waiting room is too crowded for this conversation.

That is my first clear thought when Dr. Patel walks in with a tablet in one hand and a folder tucked beneath his arm.

The second is that doctors only carry paper when they’re about to tell you something they want no possibility of misunderstanding.

“Mr. Warren. Mrs. Warren,” he says quietly. “Can we speak privately?”

Natasha is already on her feet. I stand with her.

The room is full of people who look up the second they see us move.

My mother. Mason. Gloria. Nathanial. Piper. Julian. Sonia. Natasha’s parents.

All of them waiting for news about my daughter with different degrees of sincerity and usefulness.

Patel leads us into a smaller consultation room and shuts the door.

I don’t sit immediately. Neither does Natasha.

Patel glances between us, then gets straight to it.

“The treatment is working as well as we hoped,” he says. “Lily’s infection count is already down substantially.”

He pauses for a second.

“That part is encouraging. But while we were running the additional scans and blood work, we found something unrelated to the fever.”

Every muscle in my body goes still.

“What kind of something?” Natasha asks.

His expression is careful in the way I’ve started to hate.

“A congenital abnormality,” he says.

“Lily has a defect affecting one of her kidneys and the drainage from it. It is not an emergency tonight, and it is not immediately life-threatening. But it will have to be treated before it becomes a problem.”

The room goes silent.

I hear the faint squeak of rubber soles in the corridor outside. Natasha’s breath catching beside me.

Patel keeps going, calm and precise.

“The defect means that the kidney is under more strain than it should be. It also increases her risk of recurrent infections and other complications if it isn’t managed properly. The good news is that we’ve found it early and we can start dealing with it immediately.”

Natasha speaks first because I’m still arranging my thoughts into something usable.

“What does managed properly mean?”

“Close monitoring,” Patel says. “Regular scans. Regular blood work. Specialist follow-up. There will be medications at certain points, very specific hydration protocols, and strict instructions about what symptoms mean you bring her in immediately. Fever will always matter more for Lily than it might for another child.”

Natasha nods once, like she’s committing every word to memory.

I finally sit down because my legs seem to have made that decision without consulting me. Natasha sits beside me a second later.

“Will she need surgery?” I ask.

Patel folds his hands.

“She will need corrective surgery, yes. But not now. She is too small, and at the moment conservative management is safer. If things remain stable, we’d be looking at years rather than months. The goal is to get her bigger and stronger first.”

Years.

The word lands in my chest with extraordinary weight.

Years of hospitals. Years of watching fevers. Years of getting sick more easily than other children.

Surgery would fix the problem, but there is always danger when someone goes under the knife.

I can’t protect my little girl from this.

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