Between Love and Sacrifice

CHAPTER FIVE: THE CONTEMPLATION

Minutes later, the secretary arrived with a nurse.

“Here she is,” the secretary said, gesturing toward me.

“Mistress Thompson Amelia, right?” the nurse asked.

I nodded, my heart racing as I pushed my hair back to hear her better.

The nurse opened the file but paused to ask, “We called you yesterday. Why didn’t you come?”

I hesitated, my eyes widening, my mouth running dry.

I had to say something. “I was far,” I stammered.

I wasn’t sure why I said that; all I could think about was Andrew.

The nurse stared at me, confused, but she quickly brushed it off, focused back on the file in her hand.

She continued “Yesterday evening, he received his last IV, and he started showing signs of unconsciousness, which led us to place him on oxygen…”

I interrupted, “How is he now?” My voice trembled.

“Actually, he regained some consciousness today, but he’ll need dialysis for a better outcome,” the nurse replied.

Relief washed over me that Andrew was still alive, and a small smile crept onto my face.

“Thank you so much, ma’am. I’m very grateful. I’m here for the payment,” I said.

“You're welcome. You can pay her,” the nurse replied, gesturing to the secretary before walking away.

“Follow me,” the secretary ordered, and I complied.

At her desk, she handed me a form to fill out. After completing it, I returned it to her and was instructed to send the payment to the hospital’s provided email and I swiped up the opening icon on my phone, and saw different messages on my phone but I swiped those messages alert off and focused on the payment I wanted to made, I followed the Instructions as I told by the secretary and sent the payment. After that, I told her I had paid. She went straight to the system that was placed on her desk and gave me a few minutes and told me it was confirmed.

******

ALEXANDER POINT OF VIEW

I heard my phone buzzing in my ear, like the sound of a saw cutting through wood in a sawmill, shaking the bed and my body. At first, I thought I was dreaming. I opened my eyes to see the screen glowing with a notification, and I quickly glanced to find my dad's name dancing across it. My once-blurred vision sharpened like the midday sun.

“Good morning, sir,” I picked up and greeted, almost bowing to the phone, my voice trailing off.

“Son, how are you? I’ve been calling for the past few minutes! Where have you been?” My father's voice boomed through the phone, full of authority.

“Sir, I was sleeping. I didn’t realize it was ringing,” I replied, still lying on the bed.

“Did you go to the club last night?” he asked.

“No, sir,” I answered quickly.

“Okay, so did you bring your girlfriend home last night, or is she with you? Let me speak with her,” he joked.

My father, Mr. Alexander Blackwood, was a comedian,a jovial and sociable man who cared deeply for his family and earned respect from his business colleagues. Despite his humor, he knew when to keep it in check during business matters.

His comment reminded me of Amelia. Where was she? I tried to sit up, but my body felt heavy, and I collapsed back onto the bed.

“No, Dad,” I lied.

“Back to business. I want you to work hard this year to make me proud so our company can be the best among the rest. The year is almost over, and we haven't achieved enough success,” he continued.

“Daddy, I promise, sir,” I said, committing to goals I wasn't sure I could meet. We were already in early November, and our company had just been rejected by the federal government, which wanted to acquire several hectares of land from us worth millions. I couldn’t count how many rejections our company had gotten rejected from clients.

“That's my son. We are travelling back to the state next month.”

“Wow! Happy to hear that! I’ll be expecting you, sir. Please send my greetings to Grandma, Mom, Emily, and everyone over there!” I fainted at the exclamation because I was weak. I didn’t understand why he didn’t realize it, maybe because I told him I had just woken up. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t want to bother me.

“Okay!take care.”

“Yes, sir.” The call ended, and I dropped the phone on the bed with a heavy thud.

I had been overwhelmed by a strong smell since I woke up, but I didn't know where it was coming from. Suddenly, I turned left and saw the mess I had made the night before, along with the empty bottle on the glass table. “What?!” Memories rushed back. If I had known she was leaving, I would have stopped her. I thought I heard movement but dismissed it as a dream. What lingered in my mind from the night before was the fact that she was a virgin before I made her a woman. It felt surreal to imagine a girl her age being a virgin in this digital era. I had never met anyone like her before.

Sighted her lying on the bed like a log felt strange. At first, I thought she was pretending, but then I later realized the truth. It wasn’t my fault for sleeping with her; how could I resist a beautiful woman with such curves working for me, “Alexander Blackwood”? There was no way I could feel comfortable around her!

Yet, I knew she loved her brother so much that was why she sold her body for me. Such powerful affection was rare.

I couldn't help but wonder how she felt now. She must be cursing me more than ever, but what if she decided to report me? The thought crossed my mind, but I was sure she wouldn't dare. She wouldn’t play a dangerous game with a billionaire like me; she knew what I was capable of. Wait!, I remembered she mentioned her brother was on oxygen? If he died, wouldn’t she hold me responsible? How could she blame me when I was just trying to help?

I didn’t care. What mattered now was that I was the first person to make her a woman. I would find her, no matter where she was, even if she was beneath the surface.

I struggled to lift myself from the bed, unable to withstand the smell any longer. I needed to call Henry, my cleaner, to tidy up this mess. As I stood up and tried to sit back down, I felt something pinching me from behind. I reached down and pulled out a belt. Surprised, I realized it was the belt she must have forgotten when she ran away.

What!

It was a Gucci Gabbana belt.

A mere cook using such an expensive accessory?

Where could she have gotten it?

She couldn’t possibly have bought that.

Or did she come from a rich family? If so, why would she sell her body to save her brother? I didn’t care where she came from; to me, she was just a servant. How could I even ask about her relatives when she wasn’t my business partner?

With all my workers in my mansion, I never bothered to find out where any of them came from, whether rich or poor. I knew a rich person wouldn’t work as a servant for someone like me, it was impossible. I stared ceaselessly again on the belt and was still confused on how she got it.

Maybe she had stolen it. Or was it fake? I knew the real Gucci Gabbana products well.

I held the belt over my hand, examining it from every angle and mumbled to myself, I would find her.