Chapter 5 USB drive

When they arrived, Ariana automatically started preparing dinner - chopping vegetables for a stir fry while rice cooked in the pot. The rhythmic motions of cooking helped settle her thoughts. Kiara set out plates and filled water glasses without being asked.

"Martin will figure it out," Kiara said as they sat down to eat. She pushed broccoli around her plate with her fork. "He's good at what he does."

Ariana nodded. "We just need to be patient." She didn't mention the uneasy feeling she'd had since receiving the call.

After cleaning up, they moved to the living room. Kiara stretched out on the couch while Ariana sorted through mail that had piled up. Bills mostly, which she set aside for later.

"You should practice your routine for President Harris's gala," Ariana suggested.

Kiara made a face but got up and moved the coffee table to create space. She began running through basic warm-up stretches as Ariana watched absently, her mind still on the warehouse and that delivery truck.

A knock at the door made them both freeze. Ariana motioned for Kiara to stay back as she approached the door cautiously.

"Who is it?" she called through the wood.

"Delivery for Miss Ross," a male voice answered.

Ariana checked through the peephole to see a uniformed delivery man holding a small package. She opened the door just enough to accept it, signing quickly before closing and locking the door again.

The plain brown box had no return address. Ariana shook it gently - nothing rattled inside.

"Should we open it?" Kiara asked, her warm-up forgotten.

Using scissors from the kitchen, Ariana carefully cut the tape. Inside was a single USB drive.

Kiara let out a slow breath. "That was fast."

Ariana examined the unmarked drive. "We'll take it to Martin first thing." She set it on the kitchen counter where they could both see it.

The rest of the evening passed quietly. Kiara returned to her dance practice while Ariana sketched rough ideas for the Sebastian's mural, though her heart wasn't in it. At 10:30, they turned off the lights and went to their respective bedrooms.

But sleep wouldn't come. Ariana lay awake staring at the ceiling, listening to the occasional car pass outside. After an hour, she got up for a glass of water and found Kiara still awake too, sitting at the kitchen table with the USB drive in her hand.

"Can't sleep?" Ariana asked as she filled her glass.

Kiara shook her head. "I keep thinking about that truck at the warehouse. What was in it? Who sent it?"

Ariana sat across from her. "We'll know more tomorrow." She reached for the drive. "Let me put this somewhere safe."

She tucked it into her purse by the door, then turned back to Kiara. "Try to get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

Kiara nodded and stood, giving Ariana a quick hug before heading back to bed. Ariana checked the locks one more time, then followed suit.

____

Ariana woke Kiara at 6:30 AM the next morning. "You're going back to school today," she said, pulling open the curtains to let in the morning light.

Kiara groaned, rubbing her eyes. "But what about the USB drive? What about Dad?"

"Martin will handle it. Your midterms are more important." Ariana tossed a clean uniform onto Kiara's bed. "I already packed your bag. Your train leaves in an hour."

Kiara sat up, scowling. "This isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair," Ariana said simply. "Now get ready."

After seeing Kiara off at the train station, Ariana took a bus to the hospital. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air as she walked through the automatic doors. At the nurse's station, she asked after her grandfather's attending physician --- Dr. Raphael.

One of the nurses directed her to the doctor's office after confirming he wasn't consulting with any patient. "I'm afraid his heart failure has progressed," he said, adjusting his glasses. "We need to schedule a transplant immediately-if we can find a donor in time."

Ariana's stomach dropped. "How much will it cost?"

"The initial deposit is 1.5 million dollars. That doesn't include post-op care or immunosuppressants." The doctor hesitated. "And even with the money... finding a compatible donor could take months. Time he may not have."

Ariana gripped the edge of the counter to steady herself. "What happens if we can't pay?"

The doctor's expression said everything.

Ariana sat stiffly in Dr. Rapheal's office, her fingers tracing the edge of the medical file on the desk between them. The overhead lights reflected off the doctor's glasses as he spoke.

"Dr. Chandler Scott is the only surgeon with the necessary expertise to handle your grandfather's case," Dr. Raphael said, tapping the file. "But he maintains no public office and accepts patients strictly by referral."

Ariana studied the EKG printout peeking from the folder. "How do we get referred?"

"Through his surgical review board at Mercy General. They meet weekly to assess cases." Dr. Raphael removed his glasses. "Even if accepted, the $1.5 million deposit must be secured before he'll operate."

The air conditioning hummed between them. Ariana calculated the numbers in her head - her art sales, Kiara's scholarship stipend, the dwindling remains of their father's accounts. It wouldn't cover a fraction.

"Where does he consult?" she pressed.

"His private clinic isn't disclosed. Even most hospital staff don't know its location." Dr. Raphael hesitated. "There's a saying among residents - Chandler Scott finds you, not the other way around."

Ariana stood, smoothing her jeans. "Then I'll make sure he finds me."

Outside the hospital, she scrolled through her contacts before stopping at Sebastian Harris's number. Her thumb hovered over the call button. The morning sun reflected off her phone screen as she considered the unspoken bargain she might be making.

The bus arrived with a hiss of brakes. As Ariana boarded, she slipped the phone back in her pocket - for now. First, she'd try the official channels. The Mercy General receptionist gave her a clipboard with referral forms when she arrived.

"The Review board meets Thursday," the woman said without looking up. "But there are no guarantees."

Ariana filled out the forms in the waiting room, detailing her grandfather's deteriorating condition. The pen scratched against the paper as she wrote, each word feeling increasingly inadequate to summon the attention of a surgeon who chose patients like a curator selecting art.