Adrian collapsed in his office on a Tuesday morning.
Nancy was there within an hour, having received the call from his panicked assistant. She found him in the private medical suite, conscious but pale, hooked to monitors that beeped alarming rhythms.
"Minor arrhythmia," the doctor was saying. "But the pattern concerns us. The surgical repairs from three years ago are... degrading. Faster than expected."
"How much faster?" Nancy asked, taking Adrian's hand.
"Months, not years. Without intervention..." The doctor hesitated. "There's a facility in Geneva. Experimental treatments, highly controversial, but showing promise for cases like Mr. Thorne's."
Nancy felt Adrian's grip tighten. "Sonia's facility."
"You know about it?" The doctor looked surprised. "Yes, Van der Berg Medical. They've had remarkable success with genetic cardiomyopathies. But the cost—"
"Isn't financial." Nancy sat beside Adrian, her mind racing. "The treatment requires genetic modification. Experimental, unproven, potentially devastating side effects."
"Also," Adrian added weakly, "potentially lifesaving."
They stared at each other, the weight of choice pressing down. Nancy saw the fear in his eyes—the fear of death, yes, but also the fear of becoming dependent on Sonia, of losing himself to save himself.
"There are other options," she said firmly. "Other facilities, other treatments. We'll find them."
"There isn't time." Adrian touched her face, his fingers cold. "Nancy, I can feel it. The weakness, the wrongness. I thought I had years, but..."
"Don't." Her voice broke. "Don't you dare give up on me, Adrian Thorne. Not after everything. Not when we're finally—" She stopped, swallowed, forced steadiness. "We'll find another way. I promise."
But even as she spoke, she knew. Sonia had planned this. The genetic deterioration, the timing, the desperation. It was all part of the trap.
And it was working.