I Confirmed the Deployment That Broke Him Chapter 04

I Confirmed the Deployment That Broke Him Chapter 04

Three days before I left, my passport and visa came through while I was riding the elevator down.

Hannah sent a message. [Sent you the final packing list. Take care of yourself.]

I replied. [I will.]

As I walked out of the hospital, a field update flashed across my phone. [47 casualties today. Frontline stations running low on supplies. Surgeons urgently needed…]

Two years. Or maybe longer.

But this time, it was my choice.

I went up to the rooftop. The wind was strong up there, snapping at the hem of my white coat. I leaned against the railing and watched the city sink into night.

The hospital lights in the distance stayed steady while the windows of the residential buildings around me went dark, one by one.

My phone vibrated — my sister calling.

“Stella…”

Her voice was shaking. “Mom broke her hip.”

“The doctors are recommending a top-of-the-line prosthetic joint. She already has high blood pressure, and she hit her head in the fall too.”

“Between the surgery and rehab, it’s going to cost at least two hundred thousand.”

My throat tightened.

Our mother had raised us on her own on a pension that barely covered the basics. Last year she kept saying her hip bothered her, but she insisted it was an old injury and a heating patch would do.

“How much do you need?” I asked.

“We need to come up with two hundred thousand first. Rehab could drive it even higher.”

I hung up and gripped the railing until my knuckles went white.

I had savings, but I’d donated a big chunk of my savings last year to help build a medical station in the Briarwood Mountains, and half my salary every month went to the mortgage. I had less than eighty thousand left in my account.

I called Leo four times. He didn’t pick up.

In all the years we’d been together, we’d always kept our finances separate — except for the apartment, where I’d covered the down payment and he’d handled the renovations.

Since I couldn’t reach Leo, I went through my contacts — senior colleagues, people who owed me favors — and scraped together a hundred and twenty thousand. Still eighty short.

When I got back to the apartment in the early hours, I found that Chloe had posted on social media, set so only I could see it.

The photo was of Leo’s study — a dark blue velvet box on the desk, with a Montblanc pen inside, the white star on the clip catching the light just so.

[So lucky to have a mentor who gives me everything he’s got. Mr. Vance said this is a reward for my first solo report — and the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten. I’ll do my best to deserve it.]

The location tag said Leo’s apartment. It had been posted three hours earlier.

I recognized that pen. I’d seen it at a trade conference last year. Leo had stood there staring at it and said he’d buy it for himself once he landed the grant he’d been chasing.

Twenty-three thousand dollars — nearly a full month of my salary.

My stomach turned. I sat there with that for a long moment before I finally called Hannah.

She was quiet for a moment. “How much are you short?”

“Eighty thousand.”

The transfer came through before I’d even lowered my phone.

The note said, [Your mom getting better is the only thing that matters. Take care of yourself, I’m here for you.]

Leo didn’t call back until noon the next day. Airport announcements droned in the background — he was on his way to an emergency conference.

“What happened last night? My phone was charging.”

“Chloe’s first report got accepted, so we did a little celebrating.”

I looked at the CT scan of my mother’s femoral neck on the computer screen. The fracture line was clean and obvious. “That pen you gave her — that wasn’t cheap, was it?”

The line went quiet. “Stella, are you seriously trying to police how I reward my own staff now?”

“Chloe’s first paper got accepted by a top journal — that’s a first for this team. What’s wrong with her mentor giving her something to celebrate?”

Encouragement was fine. Gifts were fine too. But giving her the pen he’d promised himself, in his apartment late at night, wasn’t.

I hung up.

A message from Leo. [Have you taken care of the transfer order yet?]

[That’s none of your concern.] I typed back.

I didn’t want him knowing I’d already confirmed it. Once a high-risk deployment was locked in, it couldn’t be pulled except in cases of force majeure.

Leo sent a voice message, his voice tight, controlled. “I know you’ll pull it.”

“You’ve been my partner for seven years. You really think you can survive a frontline deployment without me?”

“You need to apologize to Chloe. If you don’t, you’re on your own when it comes to your career connections — I won’t be making any more introductions for you.”

We’d had a standing arrangement — he’d use his connections to introduce me to the leading names in infectious disease.

I could’ve made those connections on my own, but having him open those doors would’ve made things easier.

It didn’t matter anymore.

I blocked his work account and his personal email. I was leaving for the warzone in three days.