My CEO Wants Me In His Bed

The Dangerous Plan

Mara Collins POV

_Five Years Later_

Ethan's body was too hot when I tried to wake him up in the morning, and dear gripped me instantly. His eyes opened slightly, glistening with tears.

"Mom?" His mouth quivered as a tear fell from his eyes. "I don't feel too good." I leaned over to his chest, and his breathing was extremely shallow that I felt my blood pressure beginning to rise.

No. Not today. Ethan, please. I scooped him into my arms immediately, not caring that I was looking haggard and all as I ran to hail the nearest available cab. It was happening again, and the doctor said each episode would get worse as the sickness progressed.

"Tell me where it hurts, baby." I whispered to him, rocking him in my arms and trying every possible thing to make sure he was active, and his eyes were open. I could not beat losing him. He was the only thing I had in this cruel world. The only person who ever healed me completely since I gave birth to him. He couldn't die, please.

I begged God to keep him alive for me. I promised to be a better person if he helped me out just this one time.

"My chest..." He whispered, his voice fading slightly.

*

The ER receptionist didn't look up when I rushed in. "What's the name?"

"Collins..." I said hurriedly. "Ethan Collins. He is five years old. He has a chronic heart condition. His doctor is Dr. Patel in pediatrics. He's been here before and—"

"Insurance card?"

I slid the card across the counter and swiped it before typing on her computer, but her face fell into a deep frown, and I felt my heart drop.

“There’s a hold on this account.”

“I know. I’m on a payment plan,” I tried to explain.

“The balance hasn’t been touched in three months.”

Ethan’s weight shifted against my shoulder and his head lolled. I had to first check to see, and his breathing was extremely slow.

“Please, ma'am, he needs to see a doctor now.” I was already crying with snot running down my nose, but I didn't care. The only thing I cared about was my son's life. "Look at him. He is barely breathing. Please..." I almost got on my knees to beg.

She finally looked at me with a passive face. "All that isn't necessary, ma'am. This is a private hospital, and we are currently running a loss because some doctors have decided to be good-hearted." She gave me a cold stare. "As much as this is a health facility, this is someone's business, and we are not running a charity organization. Unless you can pay a minimum of two hundred dollars, only then can we admit him."

I felt my heartbreak into a thousand pieces as I sank to the ground. “I don’t have two hundred dollars.”

“Then I can’t help you,” her eyes softened, "Just use the palliative methods you've been using before now, and try your best to come up with that money. Only then does your son stand a chance to live."

*

My manager frowned the moment I walked into the bakery late, and it deepened further when she saw Ethan in my arms and her disapproval was immediate.

“Mara,” she began, disapprovingly, and I stopped her before she could continue.

“I know.”

“You can’t bring him here.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“The last time Mrs. Calloway saw a child in the back, she threatened to call the health department.”

Mrs. Calloway was the owner of this establishment, and she hated Ethan so much. Most of the staff speculated that it was because she was childless, but I never brought Ethan to the bakery unless there was an emergency. And this was one of them. She would have to deal with it. She paid me under the table because I was desperate enough not to complain, and she reminded me of that fact daily.

“I’ll keep him quiet,” I assured Rosa.

“Mara—”

The front bell chimed before she could continue, and we both knew it was time to get to work as customers had begun arriving. But before then, I had to keep Ethan in the back room where Mrs. Calloway wouldn't think to look when she came in. I had managed to keep him conscious, but this was only temporary, and I was currently desperate and running out of options.

*

By ten o’clock, the café was full. I moved between tables, balancing trays, refilling coffee, my eyes darting to the back room between every order. Ethan was visible through the narrow gap in the door. His small body slumped against the flour bag, and I watched carefully for the rise and fall of his chest, which gave me the assurance that he was still alive. Mrs. Calloway had found him and told me she was going to fire me if it ever happened again, but that was the least of my problems. I had to get Ethan to see his doctors before the week was over. And I had to find two hundred dollars fast. Apart from that too, he needed a new heart.

*

My plan was extremely sinister when I saw him. I hated that I had to go this far for something, but it was my son's life and I would rather sell my soul to the devil than see any harm come to him.

He was none other than our regular, but extremely wealthy customer. The staff whispered every single time that he was loaded with money. I knew even if I had to beg him for money for Ethan's surgery, rich snobs like him would rather protect their own money than save the dying child of a poor woman. They were all the same, and the only way one could get them to help was if you were able to make them owe you. And that was all I wanted.

He was sitting quietly and reading the newspaper while waiting for his order when I made the calculations in my mind. I wasn't going to hurt him. But still, this was extremely wrong and a wicked thing to do. Not that much, but... I turned to Ethan, who had fallen over when I hadn't noticed, and I made up my mind immediately.

The pill bottle was in my bag, and it was filled with Ethan’s medication. A beta-blocker. Too much of it could slow a heart, and too much could stop one, but the right amount in a man his age, with his build, with tea to mask the taste—

I stopped thinking immediately and set to work immediately before he got impatient. I walked to my bag, uncapped the bottle and crushed one pill between my fingers in the pocket of my apron, and I poured it into the tea myself before taking it to him.

"Here you go, Mr. Gerald." I smiled at him, but my heart was racing in fear.

What if he perceived the drug? What if the taste changed? What if...? I watched with my heart in my hands as he took the cup and swallowed the whole content, pushing it back to me for a refill.

Three minutes later, he grabbed his chest and fell to the ground.