Chapter 13 A Life on Credit
I slide down the wall.
My legs give out completely until I'm sitting on the cold hospital floor, my back pressed against the, my knees pulled up to my chest.
And I begin to sob.
I press my hands over my mouth, trying to muffle the sounds..
But it doesn't work.
They come anyway.
Great gasps that hurt my throat. Tears that stream down my face so fast I can't wipe them away. My nose is running. My eyes are burning. I probably look insane.
But right now, I don't care.
Let them see.
Let everyone walking through this hallway see the woman falling apart on the floor.
My mother is dying.
She has days.
Maybe a week.
And I can't save her.
I sob harder, curling forward until my forehead is pressed against my knees.
My mind is spiraling.
Cycling through the same thoughts over and over. Nine hundred thousand dollars today.
I need to do something.
I need to think.
I need to figure out how to fix this.
But my brain feels empty.
There has to be a way.
There's always a way.
I'm good at solving problems. That's literally what I do for a living. Caius throws impossible situations at me and I find solutions. I make the impossible possible. I figure things out.
But this...
This is different.
This isn't a scheduling conflict or a difficult client or a contract negotiation.
This is nine hundred thousand dollars that I don't have and can't get and need right now.
A nurse walks past me. She glances down, her expression concerned.
"Are you okay, honey?" she asks gently.
I almost laugh.
Am I okay?
"I'm fine," I lie. My voice is hoarse. "I'm fine."
She doesn't believe me. I can see it in her face.
But she nods anyway and keeps walking because she probably sees a dozen people breaking down in hospital hallways every day and she can't stop for all of them.
I close my eyes and force myself to breathe slowly.
I mentally run through every possible option.
Credit cards? I have two. Combined limit of maybe fifteen thousand dollars. And they're already partially maxed out from previous medical bills.
Loan? From where? Banks don't loan nine hundred thousand dollars to executive assistants who make seventy-five thousand a year. Even if they did, it would take weeks to process. I don't have weeks.
Friends? I have exactly three people I'd call friends. One is a teacher living paycheck to paycheck. One is a social worker drowning in student loans. One moved to Seattle two years ago and we only talk on birthdays now.
Family? There is no family. Just me and Mom. Always just me and Mom.
My mind keeps circling back to one option.
One person who has that kind of money.
One person who could transfer nine hundred thousand dollars with a single phone call.
Caius.
My boss.
My fake husband.
The man who's paying me two million dollars to pretend to be his wife for six months.
I could ask him.
I could ask him for a loan. An advance on the payment.
But the idea of it makes me feel sick.
Because asking means admitting I need him. Admitting I'm desperate and have no other options.
It means giving him even more power over me than he already has.
It means owing him. Not just contractually, but personally.
It means making myself more vulnerable than I've ever been to anyone.
I don't want to owe him or give him the satisfaction of knowing I need him this badly.
But then I think about my mother. About how she only has days and how I could possibly watch her die because I was too proud to ask for help.
I would beg on my knees in front of the entire world if it meant saving her.
I would humiliate myself a thousand times over.
I would sell every piece of dignity I have left.
Because she's my mother.
She's all I have in this fucked up world.
And I'm not going to let her die because I was too proud to ask for help.
I pull my phone out of my pocket with shaking hands.
I stare at the screen for a long moment, my finger hovering over Caius's contact.
What's the worst that can happen? He says no? Then I'm exactly where I am right now, sitting on a hospital floor with no options and a dying mother.
But if he says yes...
If he says yes, she lives.
I tap his name and put the phone to my ear.
It rings once.
Then twice...
Three times.
"Lia?" His voice comes through. "What's wrong? What happened?"
I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out.
"Lia?" he says again. "Are you there? Talk to me."
"She's dying," I whisper. "My mother, she's dying. The doctor said... They said she has only days. The cancer spread to her liver and lungs. Her kidneys are failing. They need to start treatment today. Or it'll be too late."
There's silence on the other end.
I can hear him breathing, can imagine him processing this information.
"But the payment," he says slowly. "The contract specifies—"
"I know." I cut him off before he can finish that sentence. "I know what the contract says. Two million dollars at the end of six months. After I've fulfilled all the terms. After the custody case is settled. I know."
I take a shaky breath.
"But she doesn't have six months," I say. "She has days. Just days."
There's a longer silence this time.
I can practically hear him thinking. Running through scenarios in his head the way he does when he's solving a business problem.
Except this isn't a business problem.
This is my mother's life.
"I need to ask you something," I say. "And you can say no," I add quickly. "You have every right to say no. This isn't part of our arrangement. I know that. But I have to ask because I don't have any other options and I'm desperate and I..."
"Ask," he interrupts quietly.
I close my eyes and force the words out.
"Could you loan me the money?" I ask quietly. "Nine hundred thousand dollars. Just for the deposit. Just enough to start her treatment today. And I'll pay you back. However you want. We can add it to what I owe you at the end. Or take it out of the two million. Or I'll work for you for free for the next five years. Ten years. Whatever you want."
I'm rambling desperately now.
"I'll sign whatever contract you need," I continue. "Whatever terms. Whatever penalties if I don't fulfill it. I don't care. I'll do anything. I just..."
"Lia—"
"Please." My voice cracks. "Please. I'm begging you. I know I have no right to ask this. I know it's not fair. I know this isn't what you signed up for. But she's my mother. She's all I have in this world. She's the only person who's ever..."
My voice cracks completely.
I can't finish the sentence.
Can't speak through the tears that are streaming down my face again.
"If she dies," I whisper, "I don't know what I'll do. I don't know how to exist in a world without her. And if I could have saved her but didn't because I was too proud to ask for help, I'll never forgive myself. Never."
There's silence for about fifteen seconds. It's so quiet that I can hear my own heartbeat.
"If I do this," Caius says finally. "If I transfer the money today, you'll stay. You'll continue the arrangement. All six months. No matter what happens."
My heart clenches.
Of course.
Of course that's his condition.
He's not doing this out of kindness.
Not out of compassion.
Not because he cares about me or my mother.
He's doing this because he needs me.
Because I convinced Catherine today. Because Leo responds to me. Because without me, he loses custody of his nephew.
This is still a transaction.
Still business.
He's protecting his investment.
"Yes," I whisper. "Yes. I'll stay. I'll do everything the contract says. I promise. I won't back out. I won't leave early. I'll fulfill every single term."
There's another pause.
"And if the treatment doesn't work?" He asks softly. "If your mother doesn't make it despite everything, despite the money and the treatment and the doctors doing everything they can?"
I freeze.
I haven't let myself think about that possibility.
Haven't let myself consider what happens if the treatment fails. If nine hundred thousand dollars isn't enough. If medicine can't fix what cancer has broken.
"Then I still stay," I say. "Because a deal is a deal. I signed a contract and I'll honor it. And because..." I swallow hard. "Because Leo needs me. I saw that today. And if I can help him, even if my mother .."
I can't say it.
Can't speak those words into existence.
"Okay," Caius says, simply.
"What?" I ask.
"Okay," he repeats. "I'll do it. I'll transfer the money."
My heart stops.
"Nine hundred thousand today," he continues. "For the initial deposit. And I'll cover whatever additional costs arise for her ongoing treatment. The advance will be deducted from your final payment. If the total treatment costs exceed two million dollars, we'll discuss additional terms at that time."
"You'll..." I can't finish the sentence. "You're really doing this?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
The question comes out before I can stop it.
Why is he doing this? Why is he giving me almost a million dollars based on nothing but my word that I'll stay?
Why is he taking this risk?
"Because I need you," he says simply. "Leo needs you. You proved that today. Catherine saw it. I saw it. He responds to you in a way he doesn't respond to anyone else."
"Send me the hospital's billing information," he continues. "I'll have my accountant initiate the wire transfer immediately. The money should hit their account within thirty minutes."
"I will," I manage to say. "Right now. I'll send it right now."
"Good."
There's a pause.
I think he's going to hang up. Think the conversation is over.
But then he speaks again.
"Lia," he says. "I hope the treatment works."
"Thank you," I whisper. "Thank you so much. I don't know how to... I can't... Thank you."
"Send me that information," he says. "I'll take care of the rest."
Then he hangs up.
I sit there on the hospital floor, phone pressed to my chest, tears streaming down my face.
He's going to save her.
He's actually going to save her.
I don't let myself think about why. Don't let myself analyze his motives or question his reasons or wonder if maybe, possibly, some small part of him actually cares.
It doesn't matter why.
All that matters is the result.
My mother is going to live.
I force myself to stand on shaking legs, then I pull up the hospital's billing information on my phone. Screenshot it and send it to Caius with trembling fingers.
Then I go to find Dr. Reeves.
He's still at the nurses' station, writing something in a chart.
"Dr. Reeves," I say.
He looks up.
I must look terrible... eyes red and swollen, face blotchy from crying, hair a mess.
But I don't care.
"The money," I say. "It's coming. Right now. You should receive a wire transfer within the next thirty minutes. Nine hundred thousand dollars. Whatever you need to start treatment immediately."
His eyebrows rise.
"You secured the funding?" he asks carefully.
"Yes." I nod rapidly. "Yes. It's done. We can start right now, please."
He studies my face for a long moment.
I watch him processing this. Trying to figure out how a young woman with no apparent resources suddenly came up with almost a million dollars in less than an hour.
But he doesn't ask.
"I'll alert the treatment team," he says. "We'll begin preparations immediately. As soon as the funds are confirmed, we'll move your mother to the specialized unit and start the protocol."
"Thank you," I breathe. "Thank you so much."
He nods once, then turns and walks away, already pulling out his phone to make calls.
I stand there for a moment, watching him go.
I should feel relieved now that it's been paid.
Instead, my chest feels heavy.
Because the man who just saved my mother’s life…
now owns every piece of mine.