A deal with faith
1531 Words
BRENDA POV
The sterile hospital corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before me as I followed the paramedics who rushed Max on a gurney. Their urgent voices blended into a terrifying sound around me.
"BP dropping!"
"Possible internal bleeding!"
"OR 3 is prepped and waiting!"
I ran alongside them, my hand desperately clutching Max's limp one until a nurse stopped me at a set of double doors.
"I'm sorry, miss. You can't go any further," she said, her face a practiced mask of professional sympathy.
"But he's my brother! He's all I have left!" My voice broke as the doors swung shut, taking Max away from me.
Hours passed in the waiting room. I alternated between pacing frantically and slumping in uncomfortable plastic chairs, my clothes still dirty and stained with my brother's blood. Each time the doors opened, my heart leaped to my throat, only to crash back down when it wasn't news about Max.
Finally, a doctor in scrubs approached. The grim set of his mouth told me everything before he spoke.
"Ms. Mitchell?" he asked.
I nodded, unable to form words.
"Your brother survived the surgery, but he's in extremely critical condition," he said, his voice clinical. "The next 24 hours are crucial. He has severe internal bleeding, a punctured lung, and significant brain swelling."
"But he'll be okay, right?" I whispered, already knowing the answer from his expression.
The doctor hesitated. "There's a specialized treatment we could try, it might reduce the brain swelling and give him a fighting chance. But..."
"But what?"
"It's experimental and not covered by insurance. The cost is ten thousand dollars, upfront."
The room seemed to tilt around me. "Ten... thousand?"
"If we don't administer it within the next few hours, I'm afraid..." He didn't finish the sentence.
I fell to my knees before him, dignity abandoned. "Please, you don't understand. We have nothing, we were evicted today. We have no home, no family. Max is only thirteen. He's all I have in this world."
"I'm truly sorry," the doctor said, and to his credit, he did look pained. "But the hospital has policies. Without payment, our hands are tied."
"I'll do anything," I begged, tears streaming down my face. "Please, I'll work here. I'll clean floors, do paperwork, anything!"
He shook his head. "That's not how it works. I need to check on other patients now. If you can somehow secure the funds in the next three hours, come find me."
I watched him walk away, my body shaking with sobs. How was I supposed to find ten thousand dollars? We didn't have credit cards, savings, or anyone to borrow from.
Somehow, I made it to the elevator. I needed air, needed to think. The doors opened to the lobby, and I stumbled out, vision blurred by tears. That's when I collided hard with someone, the impact sending me sprawling to the floor.
"Watch where you're going, you filthy little rat!" a woman's voice shrieked.
Before I could even look up, a stinging slap landed across my face, the force of it snapping my head sideways. Pain exploded across my cheek as I cowered on the floor.
"Rosiana! What the hell are you doing?" A deep male voice cut through my haze of pain.
Through tear-filled eyes, I saw a tall man in an expensive suit restraining a woman dripping in designer clothes and jewelry. Her perfect face was filled with rage.
"She ruined my Louboutins, Xavier! Look at this scuff mark! These cost more than she probably makes in a month!"
The man, Xavier, looked down at me with a frown. "That doesn't give you the right to hit her. Are you okay, miss?"
I couldn't answer. The slap had been the final straw. All the fear, exhaustion, hunger, and desperation of the past 24 hours crashed over me at once, and I broke down completely, heaving sobs wracking my body as I curled into myself on the cold hospital floor.
"Oh, for God's sake, she's making a scene. Let's go." The woman, Rosiana tugged at Xavier's arm.
To my surprise, he ignored her. "Johnson," he called to a man standing nearby, "help her up."
A suited man stepped forward and gently helped me to my feet. I swayed, light-headed from hunger and stress.
"What's your name?" Xavier asked.
"B-Brenda Mitchell," I managed between sobs.
"Why are you here, Brenda?"
"My brother... a truck hit him... they say h-he'll die if I don't get ten thousand dollars for his treatment in the next three hours."
Rosiana scoffed. "How convenient. A sob story right after running into us. Xavier, she's clearly scamming you."
But Xavier's eyes narrowed. "You're covered in blood."
I looked down at my stained clothes. "It's Max's... my brother's. We were homeless... he ran into the street... for five dollars." Fresh tears came to the memory.
"She's lying," Rosiana insisted. "People like her always are."
Xavier studied my face for a long moment. Then, without a word, he pulled out his phone and dialed. "Dr. Hartman? It's Xavier Reynolds. I need to speak to whoever's in charge of emergency cases today."
My heart stuttered. Xavier Reynolds? Even in my state, I recognized the name of one of New York's most prominent billionaires.
"Put the doctor treating a patient named Max Mitchell on the phone," he continued. After a brief wait, his expression changed. "Yes, doctor. I understand the situation... No, that won't be a problem... Yes, all expenses... Start the treatment immediately."
He hung up and turned to me. "Your brother will get the treatment he needs. All expenses covered."
I couldn't process what I was hearing. "W-what?"
"I said I'll cover it. All of it."
The relief hit me like a physical force, and my legs gave out. This time, Xavier himself caught me before I fell.
"Thank you," I sobbed, grabbing his hand. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I fell to my knees, overwhelmed with gratitude, kissing his hands as tears streamed down my face.
"Oh my God, get her off you!" Rosiana shrieked. "She's disgusting!"
Xavier gently pulled me up. "That's unnecessary, Brenda. Please, compose yourself."
The doctor appeared, looking shocked. "Ms. Mitchell, we're starting your brother's treatment right away."
The next twelve hours passed in a blur of doctors, nurses, and waiting. Xavier had disappeared, but his staff remained, ensuring I had food and clean clothes. By evening, against all odds, Max was stable. I sat by his bedside, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, afraid to believe this miracle was real.
"Ms. Mitchell?"
I turned to see Xavier standing in the doorway, alone this time.
"Mr. Reynolds," I breathed. "I don't know how to thank you."
"Your brother looks better," he observed, approaching the bed.
"They say he'll recover." My voice broke. "Because of you."
"What will you do after he's discharged?" Xavier asked. "You mentioned you're homeless."
The momentary relief faded as reality crashed back. "I... I don't know."
"What did you do before? For work?"
"I'm an event planner," I said. "Or I was trying to be. No one will hire me without connections or experience."
Something flickered in Xavier's eyes. "An event planner?"
"Yes. It's what I studied. I'm good at it, but..." I gestured helplessly at my circumstances.
"Interesting." He paused. "Rosiana and I are getting married in six months. We need someone to help manage our household and assist with wedding preparations."
I stared at him, not comprehending.
"I'll pay you twenty thousand a week. You and your brother can live in the staff quarters of my penthouse."
"Twenty thousand... a week?" I repeated, certain I'd misheard.
"Yes. Starting immediately."
This couldn't be real. "But why would you do this?"
Xavier's expression was unreadable. "Let's call it an investment. Do we have a deal?"
Before I could answer, the door burst open and Rosiana stormed in, her face a mask of fury when she saw me.
"Xavier! You can't be serious about hiring this... this street rat?"
"The decision is made, Rosiana."
She turned to me, eyes blazing with hatred. "Listen carefully, little nobody. You may have fooled Xavier with your pathetic story, but I see right through you. If you think you're moving into our home to steal my fiancé, you've got another thing coming."
"I would never…." I began.
"Save it," she snapped. "Twenty thousand a week is nothing to us. But remember this: you'll be nothing but a servant in our home. Step out of line once, and I'll make sure you and your brother end up right back on the streets where you belong."
Xavier sighed. "Rosiana, that's enough."
She smiled sweetly at him before shooting me one last venomous glare. "I'll wait in the car, darling."
After she left, an uncomfortable silence filled the room.
"I should warn you," Xavier said finally. "Rosiana can be... difficult. But the offer stands. A home, security, and good pay. What do you say?"
I looked at Max's sleeping form, then back at the billionaire who had saved his life. A home. Money for food. Safety for Max.
But at what cost?
Xavier extended his hand. "Do we have a deal, Brenda Mitchell?”
- Writer
