My Professor Owns My Nights

Chapter Five: Unforseen Circumstances

Mia's POV

I was still running when I hit the street outside the university building, and I flagged down the first cab I saw and threw myself into the back seat and gave the driver the hospital address and sat there with my hands pressed flat on my thighs trying to breathe like a normal person.

The doctor's words kept replaying in my head. "Condition has changed. Additional funding before we can proceed."

More money. They needed more money and I had just paid everything I had and there was nothing left and I did not know what I was going to do when I got there and they told me a number I could not cover.

My phone was in my hand and I was scrolling without thinking and then I stopped.

The link.

Damien's message from three days ago was still sitting there, the link and that one line underneath: "The offer stands. Whenever you are ready."

I stared at it for a long time while the city moved past the cab window and then I thought about my mother's face and I clicked it.

It opened into a private group, there was no names just usernames, and at the top was a pinned message with details about the arrangement of scheduled meetings, payment structure, complete confidentiality and it was so organized and so matter of fact that it made my stomach turn a little but I scrolled past that feeling and typed a message into the chat before I could stop myself.

"I need help. The hospital needs more money before they will operate."

I hit send and put my phone face down on my knee and watched the streets blur past and told myself I had not just done what I had just done.

The hospital was loud when I pushed through the front doors, and I went straight to the billing desk and asked for the doctor who had called me and the woman behind the counter made a phone call and told me to wait and I sat in one of the plastic chairs by the window and waited.

The doctor came down ten minutes later, a tired looking man in his forties with reading glasses pushed up on his head, and he shook my hand and sat across from me and explained that my mother's blood pressure had dropped significantly overnight and that they wanted to move the surgery earlier but the anesthesiologist's fees had not been covered in the original payment and the total gap was significant.

I nodded like it was fine and thanked him and he went back upstairs and I sat very still for a moment staring at the floor.

Then I picked up my phone.

The group chat had one new message and it was from an account with no profile picture, just initials, and it said: How much.

I typed the number.

Three minutes passed and then the person typed: Handled. Check with billing in ten minutes.

My hands were shaking slightly as I stood and walked back to the billing desk and asked the woman to check the account again and she frowned at her screen and then her expression shifted and she looked up at me.

"A payment just came through," she said slowly, like she was not entirely sure she was reading it correctly,

"it covers the outstanding balance in full."

I stood there and just stares at space before I went upstairs.

Ward C was on the third floor and I knew the route by heart at this point, left out of the elevator, past the nurses station, fourth door on the right, and I walked it quickly with my bag still over my shoulder and pushed open the door and stopped.

The room was empty.

I stood in the doorway for a second and then turned and walked quickly back to the nurses station.

"My mother," I said, and my voice came out steadier than I felt, "Sarah Calloway, ward C, room four, where is she?" I added already looking so agitated.

The nurse behind the desk looked up and checked something on her screen and then looked at me with a careful expression.

"Miss Calloway, your mother was discharged about forty minutes ago," she said.

"Discharged," I repeated, "what do you mean discharged, she is scheduled for surgery, she cannot be discharged."

"The surgery has been rescheduled to a private facility," the nurse said, "a gentleman came in and arranged the transfer personally, he had all the correct paperwork and the attending physician signed off on it."

I felt the floor tilt slightly under me.

"What gentleman," I said quietly, "what did he look like?"

The nurse thought for a moment, "Tall," she said, "dark hair, very well dressed, and with sharp features, gray eyes I think."

She said and I just stared.

I knew exactly who she was describing.

Damien Cross had walked into this hospital and moved my mother without telli

ng me. And still I was unsure of what to do? Should I be scared or...?