Chapter 3 – The Contract
1197 Words
Chapter 3 – The Contract
Lisa’s point of view
The seventy-two hours felt like a lie.
Time no longer moved in neat blocks. It dragged. It pushed down on my chest until it hurt to breathe.
Ethan was in a hospital bed with wires taped to his small body. It sounded like the machines were alive when they hummed and blinked. Every noise made me jump. My heart stopped every time the machines did.
I sat next to him and held his hand. His skin felt too thin. Like paper.
He whispered, "Mama."
I said, "I'm here." I got close to him so he wouldn't have to use his strength. "I'm not going anywhere."
His eyes blinked. "Do you promise?"
I swallowed. "I promise."
I hated making promises. They were too easy to break.
I stood up and walked into the hallway while he slept. The walls were light and clean, as if nothing bad had ever happened there. Nurses walked by me quickly. Nobody looked me in the eye.
I went back to the desk.
"I need to talk to someone," I said. "About my son."
The woman looked at the screen for a second. "You've already been told."
"I need more," I said. My voice shook. "Please."
She thought for a moment. Then she got closer.
"Between us," she said in a low voice, "his case has been flagged."
"Flagged?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "High priority."
Hope flared.. "By who?"
She looked around and then spoke even more softly.
"By Mr. Crowe."
The spark went out.
I stepped back. "When?"
She frowned. "Days ago."
The floor slanted.
"Days?" I said again.
"Yes," she said. "Before he was admitted.
I got up from the desk and left without saying anything.
A few days ago.
Before Ethan collapsed. Before I begged. Before I went into Alexander Crowe's office like a fool in need.
I was shaking as I took out my phone. No calls that were missed. No messages. There was nothing that said this was planned.
But it was.
I went back into Ethan's room and sat down hard in the chair.
He was still in bed.
I looked at his chest as it rose and fell, and I felt something cold go through me.
This wasn't a rescue.
This was a net.
That night, the call came.
"Come back," No hello. No warmth.
"I want answers."
“You’ll get them. If you come.”
I didn't say yes.
But an hour later, I was back in the elevator, going up to the quiet place where power lived.
My fear had teeth this time.
The doors swung open. The same woman waved me on.
When I walked in, Alexander was standing by his desk. There were papers all over the place in front of him. Lots of folders. Charts for medicine.
I saw the blue edge of one.
My son's.
"You've been watching us."
He slowly looked up. "Sit."
“No. You knew.”
“Yes.”
The word landed well. Sharp.
"You looked over his file," I said. "Before I ever came to you."
"Yes."
"Why?" I asked.
He put his hands together. "Because I don't act on a whim."
I laughed. It came out raw. "You think this is calm? You messed with my child's life.”
“I looked at the risks. I made plans.”
"You chose," I said. The word tasted bad.
He didn't say anything to me.
"How long?" I asked.
"Long enough," he said.
My nails hurt my hands. "You saw me break."
"I saw you choose," he said.
"Choose what?" I lost it. "To suffer?"
"To stay alive," he said.
I shook my head. "You could have helped earlier."
"Yes."
"You didn't."
"No."
"Why?"
"I needed to know if you would run or stand."
Something inside me yelled.
I said, "This is sick." "You're sick."
He didn't move. "And yet you're here."
I looked at the folders once more. Results of the test. Notes. Dates.
Everything before the emergency.
I told him, "You own his future."
He said, "For now."
I moved closer. "What do you want from me?"
He pushed a folder across the desk.
"This," he said.
I opened it.
Pages. Legal language. Clean lines.
A contract.
My hands shook as I read.
Housing provided. Costs covered. Guaranteed medical care.
In exchange—
I couldn't breathe.
"No leaving without asking first."
"No work outside the home."
"Following the rules of the house."
This wasn’t help.
This was ownership in the form of paper.
I whispered, "You want to put me in a cage."
"I want stability," he said.
"For who?" I asked.
He said, "For the child." "And for me."
I said again, "For you."
"Yes."
I shut the folder. "I won't."
He waited.
Minutes went by. The room seemed smaller.
"I won't sign," I said again.
He took up his phone.
My heart raced.
I said, "Don't."
He stared at me. "Seventy-two hours, You have less now."
I thought about how Ethan was breathing shallowly. The monitor was screaming.
I said, "You're making me."
He said, "I'm making an offer."
I took the folder back. "If I sign, you operate tonight?"
"Yes."
"No delays?" I asked.
"None."
"No secret rules?" I said.
He looked me in the eye. "Everything is written down."
I chuckled softly. "That's what people like you say."
He didn't say no.
I looked at the line where I had to sign.
I thought about pride. How it had kept me standing. How it had also made me poor. By itself.
Ethan wouldn't let Pride hold his hand during surgery.
I picked up the pen.
Alexander looked at me without saying a word.
"I don't believe you," I said.
He said, "You don't have to."
I put my name on it.
The scratch of the pen was loud in the quiet room. It felt like each letter was a door closing.
He took the folder and nodded once when I was done.
He said, "It will be done."
My legs were weak. "When are we leaving?"
"Now," he said.
The house wasn't a house.
There was stone, glass, and silence.
As we walked in, the lights came on, as if the place was awake and watching. A woman gently took Ethan from my arms. Doctors followed. Calm. Prepared.
Too prepared.
I stood in the doorway with my bag in my hands.
I said, "This is only for a short time."
"Yes," Alexander said.
I looked at him. "You planned this."
He didn't say anything.
They wheeled Ethan away. The sound of his bed rolling could be heard all the way down the hall.
I wanted to chase after him.
Instead, I went down another hallway with Alexander. My footsteps felt strange, like I didn't belong in my own body anymore.
There was an open door in front of me. Voices floated out.
I stopped.
Alexander didn't see it right away.
"She signed," a man inside said.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“She won’t break.”
Not yet.
I stepped back into the dark as something cold settled deep in my heart.
I hadn't been saved yet.
I had been chosen.
- Writer
