Not frustration.
Anger.
The kind I rarely allow myself to feel because it makes me want to break things.
“You’re telling me she’s been fighting for years,” I said, voice low, “and the door was never going to open.”
Teller’s expression relaxed a fraction. “I’m telling you it’s more complicated than a waitlist. I am saying maybe my door isn't the right one to open for her.”
My hands flattened against my desk.
“Then change your damn door,” I said.
Teller blinked once, he looked stunned, like a man who was not used to being told he needed to change for someone.
“I want her admitted to your inpatient treatment program,” I continued. “Full monitoring. Full access. You lead it. And if the trial you are running doesn't work for her, create something that does. You design the plan. You stabilize her baseline and reduce the flares.”
“That’s not...”
“It is,” I said quietly, the words precise. “Because you’re capable of doing it. And because I’m investing.”
Teller’s eyes sharpened. “This is coercion.”
“This is funding,” I corrected, as Rowan moved to my side. “You’ve been complaining for years about lack of resources, lackof staffing, lack of beds. You want the program to expand? You want more patients to get this level of care?”
Teller’s lips pressed together.
“I’ll make sure you have what you need,” I said. “And Marianne Bennett will be your first priority.”
Teller stared at me, seeing the truth behind the offer.
I wasn’t asking.
I was moving more than just a mountain.
He exhaled, long and reluctant.
“You realize,” he said slowly, “you’re changing the trajectory of an entire family... and possibly my career.”
“Yes,” I replied.
Teller’s voice dropped. “And you realize if this doesn't go well, Lucy will never forget what you did.”
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know if that was a warning or a promise.
Teller stood. Straightened his jacket.
“I’ll arrange admission,” he said, tone clipped. “Within forty-eight hours, assuming she remains stable enough to transfer. We’ll begin a comprehensive protocol once she’s officially under my care.”
I nodded once. “Good. I will let Lucy know this evening.”
He paused at the door.
“She’s not a transaction, Julian,” he said, not unkindly.
Then he left.
