THE BILLIONAIRE’S ONE AND ONLY HEIR

CHAPTER FIVE

Bridget was the harbinger of the news. Rosaline opened the door after a hurried knock and Bridget charged in, gasping, her hands on her chest, to control her breathing. But it didn’t achieve much.

“Have you heard what has happened to your Clinic?” Bridget said between her heavy panting. She paused to catch her breath further before she spoke again. Rosaline was too stupefied to do anything but watch her, waiting for her to announce what had happened to her clinic.

“Some gang in the neighborhood set fire to the buildings and stores on Fifth Avenue, which included the Clinic” Bridget finally said.

Rosaline reeled back at the news, too stupefied to think. It just wasn’t possible. “Are you sure, Bridget” she inquired.

Bridget didn’t have to say a word to confirm it, the silent solemn look of her eyes was enough of a confirmation.

“It is true, Rosa. The police department has been calling the store owners since the incident was discovered some hours before dawn when the fire was put out” Bridget added, but Rosaline wasn’t listening anymore. Her mind had frozen to everything around her, muted by a force inside her. She felt as if she had been stabbed right in her heart, as a searing pain suddenly developed from there.

She clutched her chest, as she sank unconsciously into an armchair, her eyes vacant as she stared at space before her. Her brows raised in thoughts, beads of perspiration knitting her forehead, and she considered the news. Was her clinic touched? Who in the world had done it? Why did they do it? She remembered the caged pets, belonging to her clients, which she’d left in the Clinic, and she shot up, grabbing Bridget by the arm.

“What about the caged pets, are they okay? Tell me they are okay” Rosaline inquired, jerking Bridget’s arms.

“I am sorry, Rosa” Bridget made a sympathetic sigh. “Whatever is left of the Clinic is ashes, and the burnt carcasses of the pets”

Rosaline sank again into the armchair, overwhelmed with her thoughts. She thought of the Pomeranian dog in a silver cage in her clinic, whose injured paw she had bandaged yesterday, the Siamese cats also in another cage in the Clinic, the poodle, whose wound she had sutured, as well as the other pets, she remembered their cute little faces, and she couldn’t hold back the tears that dropped down her cheeks, even with how she tried to fight it back. She hated to think, that they were all dead now, and she wasn’t going to be able to stare into their cute little faces again.

She hated to consider it also, but she had not only lost her Clinic and caged pets in them, but the incidents had also caused her to be in a lot of debt. Her clients were going to be furious with her. Mrs. Harrison who owned the Pomeranian puppy, was a gentle soul, but she could be quite fiery at the news of her puppy’s death, she loved the puppy so much, Mrs. Livingston would also be a problem. A lot of her clients were going to be problems for her. She refused to think about it, but she was going to have a hard time settling this. She sighed elaborately, sinking further into the armchair, too busy with her thought, to care about Bridget, who was frozen on a spot by the door, watching her quietly.

The week passed quietly, with the store owners on Fifth Avenue, trying to recover from the loss of their business. Rosaline was putting the Clinic back in order as best as she could. She sorted a couple of burnt garbage into refuse bags, she slugged it over her shoulder, moving through the door, and towards the nearest refuse bin.

She dumped the trash bag into the bin and turned back, slapping her palms against each other, throwing off the ashes, lurking between her fingers.

The Clinic had been rebuilt in its former image, but the shadow of the incident still lingered within the walls, and all over Fifth Avenue like a witch’s curse. Insurance had covered the Clinic and her medical appliances, but not the dead pets. Settling the owners had gulped all her finances, leaving her stranded for some capital. She desperately needed a lifeline, else, she would have to fold, and she needed it quickly.

The police were still far from apprehending the arsonist, who had destroyed her life and those of so many others on Fifth Avenue. The police had no clue who had done the ugly job.

As she walked into the Clinic, three men followed her in. Two of them were dressed in worn-out suits, frayed at the cuffs, while the last one looked to not have found a suit to accommodate his huge thick size. Rosaline thought he looked more like a pudgy wrestler, than the businessman he was trying to portray with his expression. He had on a dirty corduroy shirt and a worn-out jean.

The man leading the crew was a small man, with shrewd little eyes, and a pleasant trusting smile. He looked reliable, and trustworthy, while the others behind him looked like they had just stepped out of a gangster movie.

“Hello, Miss…” he drawled on the word ‘Miss’seeming to want Rosaline to fill in with her name.

“Rosaline,” she said after a thoughtful second.

“Miss Rosaline, I am Mr. Lex Anderson, and behind me are my associates, Mr. Tommy Sullivan and Mr. Forrest Smith, and we are from Richmond financing firm” he introduced, gesturing at the pudgy man in a corduroy shirt, then another man in a suit.

He produced a pamphlet from a case he carried, handing it to her.

Rosaline stared at the pamphlet for a minute, considering the details printed on it. “Loan sharks” she grunted between her teeth, half-aloud, she needs a lifeline, true, but she wouldn’t be stupid enough to get herself entangled with a loan shark.

“I think I’ll pass. Shot the door after you” she returned the handbill, traipsing into the clinic. She started arranging a couple of empty silver animal cages on a long counter, feigning oblivion of the three men who remained on her porch.

“With the blow you suffered woman, we both know you need this loan” she heard the pudgy man say, sounding a shade angry that he rejected them.

Rosaline turned to them, watching the pudgy man try to say something again before sharp looks from his counterparts changed his mind. He grunted with irritation, staring elsewhere.

“Miss Rosaline, I assure you won’t regret taking this loan, it is the best you can get around here. Who else would offer you as low as a 5 percent interest on a loan around here” The leading man must have meant that as a joke, as he complemented his words with a chuckle. But Rosaline didn’t think the speech was worth exhibiting her teeth.

“I’ll still pass brother, I have enough trouble as it is to get myself entangled with some loan sharks. Try the other stores, they might fall in love with your loan, for me, I am immune to the charm” She continued to set the cages in an order of big to small.

The leading man adjusted his suit in the vain mannerism of a high-class businessman and he walked up to her.

“Most of the stores around here have taken our loan in the past and even now. You can confirm from any of your neighbors, that they know us to be reliable. We give you up to a year window for repayment, you can also pay in installments. It’s the best offer you can get in West Harlem miss. I assure you, you wouldn’t want to miss such an opportunity”

“You look like you also need this loan yourselves. Why not just kill two birds with a stone, collect the loan yourselves, and get yourselves new suits? That should make you and your company happy at the same time” Rosaline said, eyeing their worn-out suits. She was tired of the man’s continuous persuasion already.

The pudgy man walked forward, his face tight with fury, then he froze to a standstill. Something must have stopped him, another sharp look from his counterparts perhaps, yet, Rosaline saw nothing to hint at that, even though she had abandoned the cages and begun to watch the three men closely.

“Miss Rosaline, I was also running a business like you once. And I know that it can be full of ups and downs. I heard of the devastating blow suffered by store owners in Fifth Avenue, that is why we have come as a succor to the problem, to lend a hand where no one else is willing. Our suits can be frayed and worn out, but the sincerity in our hearts isn’t. We had specifically chosen the suits just to appeal to the emotions of loss that the people of Fifth Avenue must be going through, and to portray our reliability, relatability, and sincerity, as extravagant appearance would have made you see us as proud financiers coming benefit from your loss, which isn’t the case for us” the leading man said. He bowed into himself, fishing out a document from his case. He handed it to her.

Rosaline didn’t know what to make of him. She stared at the paper for a minute, before she finally received it.

“That is the loan contract document, you can keep it, go through it, or show it to your lawyer, and you will find that we are indeed sincere in our offers. I will come back for it tomorrow, trusting that you will have made a wise decision.” With that, the leading heralded his crew from her Clinic.

Rosaline watched them leave, then she withdrew her gaze to the document. She needed a lifeline. She needed a loan, but the loan details on the document were just too good to be true. She left the paper under a cage too, and returned to arranging the Clinic, promising to come back to it. When she came back to it in the evening, her resolve to not get entangled with a loan shark had thinned out from her mind, swallowed by the desperation to hang onto a lifeline. She took a pen from her jeans and signed the contract, hoping she wouldn’t regret the decision.