Chapter 7 - The Dawn of the Alliance
The corporate wall didn't just crack; it shattered. Facing an unprecedented public relations disaster and a deep, unexpected internal rebellion from his own staff—who had begun wearing pink ribbons on their ID badges—Richard Sterling signed the emergency clinical variance form at 2:14 PM on Friday afternoon.
The ch14.18 targeted immunotherapy trial for Ava Bridger was officially approved for full coverage by Mid-West Medical Assurance.
When Troy walked out of the building into the brilliant afternoon sun, holding the signed authorization paper above his head, the crowd of three hundred princesses erupted into a roar of pure, unadulterated joy that could be heard three miles away at the highway junction. Bikers wept openly, embracing school teachers, while the security guards inside the lobby quietly applauded behind the glass.
But the victory was only the first step. The treatment was in Chicago, five hundred miles away, and Ava’s first intensive cell-harvesting procedure was scheduled for Monday morning at 8:00 AM at the Ann & Robert H. Lurie Children's Hospital.
"We need to move her safely, Troy," Dr. Vance said as they prepped Ava for transport at the Springfield clinic on Saturday evening. "Her immune system is highly compromised. A commercial flight is too risky, and a standard medical transport vehicle will cost thousands out of pocket because it crosses state lines."
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"She’s not going in a medical van, Doc," Big Mike said, stepping into the clinic hallway, his heavy boots muffled by a pair of blue sterile medical booties he had been forced to wear. He looked at Troy with a wide, dangerous grin. "The city council finally realized they were on the wrong side of history. They just reinstated our permit. And they didn't just give us a permit for Springfield... they coordinated with the Illinois State Police."
Mike tapped his leather vest. "The 'Princess Ride' is back on, Mountain. And we’re going to escort our girl to Chicago like she’s the queen of this country."
