The Rainy Encounter

Chapter Five

Nahla

My feet move before my brain can fully process what I am doing.

The glass elevator doors blur past me, and it isn't until it starts going down that I can finally breathe again.

A contract marriage, a business arrangement.

"I need a wife. Not real. Just legal." The words echo in my head.

"The nerve," I whisper into the empty elevator.

When the doors slide open on the twelfth floor, I walk back to my cubicle with a face made of stone. Maya looks up, her mouth opening to ask what happened in the CEO's office, but my face must say everything, because she instantly shuts her mouth.

I sit at my desk. I don't look at the spreadsheets, I don't look at the logistics invoices, I just stare at the tiny clock at the bottom right corner of my screen, watching the minutes tick away.

Forty-eight hours, That's what the nurse said.

I spend the rest of my lunch break frantically calling banks, credit unions, and payday loan companies. I sit in the stairwell, my voice turns into a plea every time an agent picks up the phone.

"Please, is there any way to fast-track an emergency medical loan? I have proof of employment at Vendel Holdings..."

"I'm sorry, Miss Givenshi. Your current debt ratio is too high."

"What about a co-signer? If I can prove my future earnings-"

"The system automated rejection stands. We cannot approve twenty-one thousand dollars without collateral."

The hospital room is dark when I step inside at seven in the evening, the only light comes from the green and yellow glow of the monitors, casting long, eerie shadows across the bed.

Mom is awake, but she looks worse than she did this morning. Her breathing is shallow, a rattling sound vibrating in her chest every time she takes air in through the plastic mask.

"Nahla..." she breathes, her eyes fluttering open.

"I'm here, Mom," I say softly, rushing to her side and taking her cold hand in both of mine. I force my voice to lose the edge it has been carrying all day. "I'm right here. How are you feeling?"

"Tired, sweetie," she whispers, her fingers weakly curling around my thumb. "So tired. Did you... did you talk to the billing department?"

My throat tightens as I look away, staring at the plastic water pitcher on the bedside table because I can't look her in the eye and let her see the truth. "Don't worry about the office, Mom. I'm handling it. The insurance company is just running an audit. It'll be cleared up by Wednesday morning."

"Nahla, look at me," she commands gently.

I look back at her, my vision instantly blurring with fresh tears.

"Don't kill yourself for a dying woman," she murmurs, a tear escaping her own eye and disappearing into the scratchy hospital pillow. "I've lived a good life, I raised two beautiful girls. If the medicine stops... it's okay. Let me go home, let's use whatever you have left to keep Chloe in school."

"No!" The word rips from my throat. I lean my forehead against her arm, my shoulders shaking as the first sob breaks through my defenses. "No, Mom, You are going to stay. I will find a way, I always find a way."

She doesn't answer. She just strokes my hair with her weak, trembling fingers, her silence hurts worse than anything she could say.

Twenty minutes later, Dr. Kincaid steps into the room, motioning for me to join him in the hallway. I slip my hand out of my mother's and step out into the sterile corridor, pulling the door closed behind me.

The doctor looks at his tablet, his face grim. "Miss Givenshi, I'm going to be completely direct with you. The hospital pharmacy just notified me that they cannot prepare the targeted chemotherapy serum for Wednesday's cycle without administrative authorization. If the outstanding balance isn't settled, or if a substantial deposit isn't made by tomorrow morning..." He sighs, looking at me with genuine regret. "We will have to transition your mother to palliative comfort care. We will manage her pain, but the active treatment will stop."

Comfort care. A polite corporate term for watching someone die.

"How long?" I ask, my voice completely quiet.

"Without the targeted cycle? Three months. Maybe less," Dr. Kincaid says quietly. "I am sorry, Nahla. It's a systemic issue. My hands are tied by the board."

I don't cry, the tears have completely dried up, I just turn to look at the small glass pane of the door, watching my mother's chest rise and fall under the heavy blankets.

Pride, that's what walked me out of Evan Vendel's office today. My stupid, stubborn pride. I wanted to feel dignified, but what good is dignity if it kills my mother?

Evan Vendel doesn't want me, he wants a legal shadow to shield his empire, and that's exactly what I'll give him.

I reach into my bag, my fingers brushing past the old receipts, the lip balm, and the house keys until they wrap around the company badge.

"I'll be right back, Doctor," I say, my voice steady. "I'm going to go secure the deposit."

The night air is freezing as I step out of the subway station, but I don't even feel the cold. I don't have an umbrella tonight, and a light drizzle is starting to fall, dampening my hair, but I don't care.

When I reach the glass doors of Vendel Holdings Tower, the night security guard looks up, his eyes widening in surprise as I stride past the desk without swiping my badge.

"Miss Givenshi? The logistics floor is locked for the night-"

"I'm not going to the twelfth floor," I say, my voice ringing out through the empty marble lobby. I walk straight toward the private executive elevator, the one reserved only for the top-tier executives. The guard stands up, but before he can open his mouth to stop me, I press my badge against the scanner.

The panel flashes a brilliant, blinding blue.

Access Granted: Penthouse Suite.

The security guard freezes, his mouth hanging open in absolute shock as the golden doors slide open for me. Evan didn't revoke my clearance. He left the door wide open because apparently, he knew I'd break.

When the doors open, the penthouse is completely silent, illuminated only by the faint amber glow of the desk lamps and the sprawling, glittering lights of the city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling glass.

Evan Vendel is still there.

He is sitting behind his massive glass desk, his tailored black suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He doesn't look surprised to see me. He doesn't even pause the rhythmic tapping of his pen against the desk.

His steel-grey eyes slowly lift, locking onto mine as I step out of the elevator and walk across the dark marble floor.

I don't look small anymore, I don't tremble, I just walk straight to his desk, stopping right at the edge, staring down at him with an intensity that matches his own.

He stops tapping the pen. A slow, incredibly dangerous smirk tugs at the corner of his chiseled jaw.

"Changed your mind, Miss Givenshi?" he purrs, his low baritone cutting through the silence of the room. He reaches into his drawer, pulling out a thick, leather-bound document and sliding it across the pristine glass toward me.

A heavy, silver fountain pen rests on top of it. "The terms are exactly as stated. Sign at the bottom."

I look at the contract, then look him dead in the eye, my face completely expressionless

"I'll sign," I say, steady.

"But under two conditions."