The CEO's Summer Contract

[Olivia’s POV] “I’m going to give it to you straight, Miss Banks.” I stare at the doctor in front of me while he speaks, and I can feel my heart slowly dropping to my feet as a bad feeling washes over me. “Your father’s condition has worsened.” His words are like a sharp knife stabbing into me, sending pangs of pain through me as I swallow and brace myself for what I’m about to be told. “How bad?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. Since graduating from college a few years back my adoptive father’s health had been declining. However, doctors were able to manage it with medication that he took regularly at home, at least, at first. However, a year back, while I was working, he collapsed while running errands, and then rushed to the hospital. Since then, he had been forced to stay here so that the doctors could try more aggressive treatments, and with luck those were working, that was, until now. “He needs surgery,” the doctor responds. “The sooner the better.” “Then do it,” I tell him. “Whatever it takes, just do what you must.” “Miss Banks, there’s something you must know about this surgery.” The doctor says slowly. “This isn’t a cheap surgery. It requires great skill.” “How much is it?” I ask. “I don’t care about the cost, please, just…” “Twenty thousand.” The doctors words are like a bucket of ice cold water pouring over me as he speaks them. “Of course, your father’s insurance will cover about five thousand of that, but the other fifteen thousand will have to be paid out of pocket.” At his words, my eyes widen as shock and fear rush through me, because I don’t have that kind of money. “Fifteen…” I repeat, hoping I heard him wrong. “Fifteen thousand…” “That’s correct,” the doctor confirms. “It may cost quite a bit, but right now, it is your father’s best chance of surviving.” “There’s nothing else you can do?” I plead, fear clawing at my heart. “Please, doctor, there has to be something else.” No. I couldn’t accept that this surgery was all or nothing for my adoptive father, not after everything he had gone through to make it this far. If only you hadn’t selfishly gone to college. The small voice in the back of my head hisses at me. Then he could have gotten treatment sooner. “Please,” I push, trying to fight the tears that want to come. “Doctor, is there anything else?” “There is another surgery.” He explains. “But…” he trails off, and I know that I’m really not going to like what I hear next. “But that surgery is much more much invasive, and causes the patient a great deal of suffering, and…” he stops again while I clench my fists until my nails dig painfully into my skin. “The chances of survival decrease by a bit.” “How much are we talking?” I ask him. “What are the chances for the more expensive versus the least?” “With the first, the survival rates and comfort are much greater, about fifty percent.” “And the cheapest?” “Twenty percent.” He sighs. “I know that it is a lot, but in my professional opinion, the first I suggested is your father’s best bet. Given his condition, and how long he has gone without treatment before now, I can’t safely say that the cheaper surgery will do much of anything for him.” “Okay,” I whisper, trying to make sense of this turn of events. “Just let me think about it.” “Don’t take too long,” the doctor warns. “The longer you put this off, the less chance that surgery will do anything at all.” “I understand, doctor.” Reeling, I slowly rise from the chair I’m sitting in, and head out of the doctor’s office, and toward the room where my adoptive father is being kept. Once I’m standing directly outside of it, I suck in a breath, composing myself as I put a look of calm of my face. Only when I’m certain that my expression isn’t giving way to what I’ve just discussed, I head into the room where my adoptive father is sitting up in bed while a nurse checks his vitals. “Olivia,” he calls, his lips turning into a smile. “There you are.” “Yeah, I’m here.” I tell him, moving forward while the nurse finishes what she’s doing. “He didn’t give you trouble this time, right?” I ask her. “Not at all,” the woman laughs. “He’s become much more docile recently. I suppose you gave him a stern talking to.” “Something like that.” When my adoptive father was first hospitalized, he stubbornly fought it, insisting that he was fine, and that all of this was unnecessary, but since the doctors said this was for the best, I made him stay. Of course, he didn’t make it easy on anyone, fighting the nurses for fussing over him, not missing a chance to run his mouth about his being here being ridiculous. You name it, he did it, but as he slowly grew sicker and sicker, he seemed to calm down. I noticed it, I think, taking in the dark circles under his sparkling blue eyes, and the thinning of his gray hair. I noticed that he was getting worse, but to think that it has come this far. “Olivia.” “Yes?” I ask, realizing that I was zoning out. “Is everything alright?” My adoptive father’s voice holds concern, and I immediately feel bad that I was making him worry when he shouldn’t be. “Yeah,” I tell him, moving to his side and taking a seat in the chair that sits there. “I guess I’m just a bit tired.” “Don’t tell me that you’ve been working extra hours again.” “Of course not,” I smile, though that is what has been happening. “I told you that Jason was helping me with the bills these days.” Jason was my boyfriend of a few years. We met when I graduated from college, and started off as friends. He was there for me while my world was slowly falling apart with my adoptive father’s health, and he was the anchor that kept me afloat when he was hospitalized, but recently he started working on a startup business with his friends, and because he was so busy with that, I didn’t see much of him. “Next time you visit, bring him with you.” My adoptive father says. “I want to thank him personally for being such a godsend to my girl through all of this.” “Sure, I’ll invite him,” I tell him. “But I don’t know if he will be able to make it. I already told you about the company that he started.” “You did,” he agrees. “Things must be going well for him to be working so much.” “Yeah,” I agree, “I guess they are.” “That’s great,” my adoptive father smiles. “It means that when my time on this earth is over, I can leave without any regrets.” “Don’t talk like that!” I snap, and immediately regret it as his gaze shifts. “Sorry,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh, it’s just…you aren’t allowed to leave me yet, alright?” As I speak, I fight the urge to fiddle with the silver bracelet that I wear because I know he knows that it is a nervous habit I developed ever since my mother’s passing when I was younger. It was around that time that I received the bracelet and was told to never take it off. “You’re going to get better and you’re going to live a long a healthy life.” I continue now, reaching out and taking my adoptive father’s hand. “You got that?” “Sure,” he smiles, trying to appease me. “I’m going to stubbornly stick around at least until I see my girl get married and settle down.” “Good,” I sigh, feeling myself relax ever-so-slightly. “Since that’s settled, are you hungry?” “I could eat,” he responds. “But not nasty hospital food.” At his words, I feel a smile spread across my face, because even in his condition, he was still picky about his food. “You want a burger from the diner down the road?” I ask, slowly standing. “Extra lettuce?” “You know it,” he tells me, and I release his hand. “I’ll be back then.” Giving one last smile, I turn and head toward the rooms exit, and when I reach, I stop and give my adoptive one last look before heading out into the hall. Once I’m no longer in front of him, I feel myself deflating as the weight of the situation slowly starts to crash down on me. “Fifteen thousand.” I whisper, suddenly feeling defeated. “Where am I going to get that kind of money?”