Chapter 137: Deal
Inside were three documents, a summary of Sean’s current investment portfolio, a bank statement showing his balance, and a brief legal letter from a financial institution confirming the legitimacy of the funds.
Max had prepared all of it the night before without being asked, he heard a feeling that sean would do this , seeing the state of the children in the hospital , he knew Sean was so good hearted that he won’t be able to ignore it, it was something Sean had only discovered when Max had handed him the folder on the way here.
Dr. Grace looked at the documents. She read them carefully, the way she read everything, thoroughly and without rushing.
When she finished she looked at the bank statement for an extra moment.
Then she looked at Sean.
"Four million dollars," she said. The exact balance figure from the statement.
"Approximately," said Sean. "The fund would be a separate structure from my personal balance."
She looked at him for a long moment. "You’re serious."
"I’ve been serious since I sat down," said Sean.
Dr. Grace looked at the documents again. Then at her notepad. Then at the window. Then she looked at Max. "Your sister really said to trust him."
"My sister said he was the right person to talk to," said Max. "She’s not wrong about people."
Dr. Grace held her pen loosely in her hand, looking at the notepad where she’d written very little because most of what Sean had said hadn’t required notes, it had required listening.
"I have questions," she said.
"I expected that," said Sean.
"Many questions," she said.
"I have time," said Sean.
She looked at him one more time with the specific assessment of someone deciding something that mattered.
Then she put the pen to the notepad properly and said, "How would the qualification process work for families. Walk me through what you’re thinking."
Sean walked her through it. Simple criteria, income threshold, treatment costs exceeding a percentage of household income, verified through medical records already held by the hospital rather than through a separate application process that would add delay and paperwork to families already managing a great deal.
Dr. Grace pushed back on two elements and suggested revisions that were better than what Sean had initially proposed. He accepted both without resistance because they were better and there was no reason not to accept things that were better.
They went back and forth for forty minutes.
By the end of it the notepad had three pages of Dr. Grace’s handwriting and the structure had been revised four times and was considerably more specific and considerably more useful than when Sean had walked in.
"I need to speak to the hospital administration," said Dr. Grace. "A fund of this size can’t operate in connection with this ward without their awareness. I want them to know what’s happening and to formally endorse the structure."
"I’d prefer that too," said Sean. "Transparency is better than trying to do this quietly."
She nodded. "I’ll request a meeting with administration this week." She looked at him. "Can I have your contact information. Directly."
Sean gave her his number.
She wrote it down and then looked at it for a moment. "You’re in college."
"Freshman year," said Sean.
"And you’re here proposing a five million dollar sickle cell patient fund," said Dr. Grace.
"Yes," said Sean.
"While we’re sitting in this office," she said, "there are three families on this ward right now who are making decisions about treatment frequency because of cost."
"I know," said Sean.
"I want to be able to tell them this week that something has changed," she said. "Not next month. This week."
"Send me the figures for those three families by tomorrow," said Sean. "I’ll cover what’s needed immediately from my own account while the formal structure is being set up. The fund can absorb it once it’s established."
Dr. Grace looked at him.
"Tomorrow," said Sean.
She held his gaze for a long moment. Then she wrote something on a separate piece of paper and slid it across the desk. Three names. Three amounts. Figures she apparently had memorized, which told its own story about how long she’d been watching these families and wishing for exactly this.
Sean looked at the paper. The total across all three families was forty-three thousand dollars.
He pulled out his phone and transferred it immediately.
[43,000 dollars spent]
[Balance: $3,929,957]
[86,000 dollars received]
[New Balance: $4,015,957]
He turned the phone so Dr. Grace could see the confirmation on the screen.
She stared at it.
"The families will have those funds available today," said Sean. "Send them to whoever handles their billing and have them contact me if there are any complications."
Dr. Grace sat very still for a moment, looking at the phone screen.
Then she looked up at Sean and her professional composure was doing the same thing Amara’s professional meeting composure had done when Sean walked into her room, working hard at something it wasn’t entirely winning.
"I’ve been on this ward for eight years," she said quietly. "I’ve been trying to figure out how to help these families for most of that time." She paused. "I’ve never had a conversation like this one."
"Neither have I," said Sean honestly. "This is new for me too."
She looked at him. "Why this. Why sickle cell specifically."
"Because Max’s sister has it," said Sean. "Because watching what it costs a family to manage, not just financially but in every direction, made it real in a way it wasn’t before." He paused. "And because Amara looked at me this morning and told me that the children on this ward deserve the same chance she just got. She was right. So here I am."
Dr. Grace held his gaze for a long moment.
"Here you are," she said quietly.
She stood up and extended her hand across the desk. Sean stood and shook it.
"I’ll contact administration today," she said. "I’ll have the formal proposal drafted by Thursday. And I’ll send you those three family billing contacts within the hour."