3
1542 Words
Chapter 3
Ana's pov
I felt lighter and happier, or at least better than I had during the last brutal weeks of betrayal.
I guessed it was the orgasms. They were known to relieve stress, but in my case, they were relieving me of pain and heartbreak.
At least I could smile knowing how he had made me feel, his entire shaft filling me completely and digging deeper, his tongue moving back and forth against my c**t.
But then, a wave of disappointment followed. I never got his name, knew nothing about him, and I wouldn't see him again. He was fast asleep when I slipped out of the hotel room at dawn.
There hadn't been any chance for conversation—just the raw s*x of the previous night. Still, I released a huge sigh. At least it was fun. A good start to my new reality.
The apartment door swung open and my thoughts drifted as Janet walked over, stopping right in front of me like she was on a mission. She had been asking where I vanished that night, but I hadn't told her anything.
After a long, scrutinizing stare, Janet sighed deeply. “I know what happened the other night. I'm just disappointed you wouldn't admit it.” Her eyes moved from my head down to my toes, observing my body language. “The smiles… you f****d a guy, didn't you?”
“What!” I exclaimed.
Instead of the smugness I had braced myself for, Janet just let out a deep, heavy sigh.
A brief silence followed, but she continued her scrutiny. Maybe even worse as her eyes moved from my head down to my toes. Then, and after a few seconds of contemplation, she said nonchalantly, “Whatever!”
In a 360 motion, she turned and zoomed towards the exit.
“I'm glad you enjoyed it,” she said just before the door closed.
The days passed by quickly, but all I thought about was him. He just couldn't leave my mind.
But all of those reckless romantic fantasies were brutally derailed the following Sunday.
A text message registered on my phone from Dr. Green, the primary physician assigned to Mr. Williams. He had left several urgent voicemails requesting an immediate face-to-face meeting.
Panic instantly seizing my throat, I hurried down to the municipal hospital, the sterile smell of antiseptic doing nothing to calm my racing heart as I sprinted up to the oncology ward.
When I pushed open the door to his room, Mr. Williams managed to conjure a bright, frail smile the moment he registered my presence.
My heart clenched painfully in my chest just looking at him. At fifty-five years old, he should have been vibrant, enjoying the peak of his life. He was the man who had selflessly taken me in, raising me with unwavering love after the horrific car crash that claimed the lives of my birth parents when I was barely three years old. I had no vivid memories of my biological parents; Mr. Williams was the only father I had ever known. And now, he could barely move his arms.
The malignant brain tumor was ravaging him. The doctors had originally given him months to live, but seeing how pale and translucent his skin looked today, I wasn't even sure he would last the night. It was terrifyingly obvious, without an immediate, highly specialized surgery, he was going to die.
Despite the terror clawing at my throat, I forced a bright, cheerful smile onto my face. I hadn't raised the necessary funds yet. So, offering him a brave face was the only thing I could afford now.
“You are all alone today, Ana,” Mr. Williams' faint voice rasped out, so barely audible that I had to lean over the bed rails to catch it. “Where is Casper?”
Casper and I had visited the hospital so often, bearing gifts, so his absence wouldn't go unnoticed. I contemplated for a while, not wanting to risk telling a dying man the truth.
“You should take some rest while I go see the doctor,” I answered, hoping it would do the trick.
But he wasn't done probing. “Did something happen between you two?”
My heart made a sudden, violent thud against my ribs. Looking back at him, I saw the deep, agonizing worry swimming in his faded eyes.
“Nothing at all,” I lied, my voice tight. “Casper and I are completely fine. He’s just… incredibly busy with work.”
He contemplated my answer for the next few seconds, his steady, heavy gaze weighing my words. “Good,” he whispered thoroughly. “Because I'll be damned if I pass away before I get to hold my first grandson.”
The man who raised me never ceased reminding me of his wishes to hold my child. Since Casper and I had only been dating for two years, I always had to shift such conversations, reminding him I was still a student dreaming of becoming a seasoned psychologist.
A sharp throat cleared near the doorway. Dr. Green, a man in his late 40s, propped against the frame, his glasses hanging low. “A word, Miss Ana,” he signaled.
My heart thudded as I trailed behind him to his office. He settled into his chair and, without wasting time, began.
“Your dad will be transferred to another health facility within the coming days. Tomorrow, to be specific,” he announced, his tone flat.
My blood ran cold. “What do you mean by another facility?”
“Your next payment is already due, and last month's payments…” he paused, sighing. “This isn't some charity organization. I hope you understand.”
The part he couldn't mention was that last month's was fully paid, even if it was delayed. I had pulled through regardless, and he had no justification to bring it up.
“Yes, but—”
“No buts,” he cut me off, rising from his seat. “That space has already been assigned to another patient coming in tomorrow.”
My eyes widened in shock. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes. I tried informing you the other day but I guess you are just too… busy,” he added coldly.
With a dejected sigh, I slumped back into the seat, my brain scanning for a move. The previous payments were mostly from my internship wages, together with a ten-grand loan from Casper. But I was currently low, and the month had only just begun.
“Can I at least get a week to raise the money?” I asked.
He sighed deeply, looking frustrated.
“I'm sorry Miss, there's nothing I can do. Besides, the precision needed for such surgery is well above our expertise. You are better off taking him elsewhere. We've done our best.” He dug into his pocket and handed me a card. “A high school friend of mine, a specialist in brain surgery. He is the best I know. You probably can't afford him anyway but… you can try.”
Moments later, my dejected self was forced to leave. Mr. Williams was fast asleep when I returned, and I stared continuously at the card.
Dr. V. Cornwell. And a ten-digit number at the bottom.
He was probably too expensive, so he wasn't an option. I tucked the card away.
The days passed by, and all I thought about was Mr. Williams, who was now at a nearby clinic. They weren't capable of doing the surgery, but they could at least keep him going. The options were slim—except to go begging Casper for money. Something I absolutely wouldn't do.
The next day, after a hectic shift, I returned to the shared apartment completely exhausted and hungry. The bed creaked as I lowered myself down. It was almost midnight, and all I did was stare into the dark.
It couldn't get worse than this.
Then, my eyes caught hold of the silver-looking card at the far end of the table. I picked it up and dialed the ten-digit number.
It rang once.
“Yes!” a deep voice came forth, followed by a deafening silence.
I swallowed, unsure of the identity. “Sorry to ask, is this Dr. Cornwell?”
Again, silence. I double-checked the screen, but the number was correct. “Are you—”
“I was wondering when you were going to call, Miss Ana,” the voice came forth, deeper than before.
My heart made a massive thud. He knew my name?
“Sorry, who is this?”
“Dr. Cornwell, of course.”
How the hell did he know my name? “Sorry, have we met before?” I asked, my breath catching.
“So many questions,” he paused. “Tell me what you know about your Mr. Williams' health condition and I can save him. Sorry to say, I'm the only one who can.”
The confidence in his tone was undeniable. He was the best.
“...But there's a price,” the voice purred.
A physical chill ran down my legs at the word price. Of course, nothing was ever for free.
“What's the price?”
- Writer
