144

144
Dr Knight 

I rushed to my son's room after making absolutely certain that Pamela had left the premises. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my mind was racing with questions. I hesitated at first about having this conversation—he was only eight years old after all, just a child who shouldn't have to deal with adult problems. But I had to talk to him or I might completely lose my grip on reality with all these revelations coming one after another.

"Should I really burden a child with this?" I whispered to myself, hand hovering over the doorknob. "But if not now, when? And how many more lies am I willing to live with?" I took a deep breath to steady myself.

I barged into the room without knocking, finding him sleeping peacefully in bed. At the sound of the door, he hopped off the bed quickly, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Daddy? What's wrong? Is everything okay?" His voice was thick with sleep but filled with concern.

"I need to ask you something important, Nathan," I said, trying to keep my voice level despite the storm inside me.

I gazed at him for a long while, carefully studying his features, trying to see if he truly looked like me or if I had just been fooling myself all this time because I was desperately dreaming of having children—especially a son to carry on my name. I searched for my eyes, my nose, my jawline in his small face.

"Is this what wishful thinking looks like?" I thought bitterly. "Seeing what I want to see instead of what's actually there?"

He gazed back at me with growing confusion, shifting uncomfortably under my intense scrutiny. "Dad! You're scaring me. Why are you looking at me like that? Did I do something wrong?" His small voice trembled slightly.

"No, you haven't done anything wrong," I assured him quickly.

I walked closer to him, moving slowly as if approaching a frightened animal. He gulped visibly as if he didn't trust me at that moment, shrinking back against his headboard. I knew that I was outwardly calm—perhaps too calm—so there was no obvious reason for him to be scared of me.

"Then why do you look so serious?" he asked, pulling his knees up to his chest protectively.

That reaction alone made me doubt everything even more. Was his fear because he knew the truth was about to come out?

"Nathan, is there something you need to tell me?" I asked gently, giving him a chance to confess first.

"I know everything, Nathan. I know that you're not my son. Pamela just told me everything." The words slipped from my mouth slowly and deliberately calm. I kept my eyes fixed on the child, who soon erupted in tears, his small body shaking with sobs.

"She told me that you would love me if I pretended!" he cried, words tumbling out between hiccupping sobs. "She told me that you would agree to adopt me and be my real dad forever if I just went along with the story!"

"What?!" I gasped, completely blindsided by this confession.

I was dumbfounded, frozen in place as he continued, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. "She told me that you would be my dad if I lied to you. Angela said the same thing. They said you wanted a son so badly that you wouldn't care where I came from as long as you believed I was yours at first."

"They coached you to say certain things?" I asked, feeling sick to my stomach.

"Yes," he nodded, looking miserable. "They made me practice what to say about my childhood and about you being my dad. They showed me pictures of you so I would recognize you."

My knees weakened dramatically, and my legs couldn't support me any longer. I sank down onto the edge of the bed, the shock hitting me like a physical blow. It wasn't just the lies—I was getting used to those by now—but the fact that I truly, deeply wanted to have a son, and they had exploited that desire in the cruelest way possible.

"I'm sorry," Nathan whispered. "Are you going to send me back now?"

I tried to breathe normally, but the pain in my chest was almost unbearable, like my heart was being squeezed in a vise. I wondered briefly if I was having another cardiac episode, but recognized it as emotional pain rather than physical.

"This can't be happening," I muttered, pressing my hand against my chest. "They used a child for this scheme? How could they?"

I nodded slowly, processing everything, and stretched out my hand to Nathan in a gesture of reassurance. "It's okay, come over here. None of this is your fault." I couldn't bring myself to treat him badly or blame him. He was just a kid—an orphanage kid who had been manipulated and used by Angela and the others for their bizarre schemes.

"You're not mad at me?" he asked hesitantly, inching closer.

"No, I'm not mad at you," I assured him. "I'm mad at the adults who put you in this position."

But why would they go to such extreme lengths? What was the real purpose behind all of this elaborate deception?

"Do you know why they wanted you to pretend to be my son?" I asked gently.

"Angela said it was for an important study," he replied. "She said you needed help and this would help you get better."

I wanted to end all of this right now. I had wasted so much time already on these twisted games. I was starting to lose faith in humanity entirely and doubt everything and everyone around me. Was there anyone in my life who wasn't lying to me or using me for their own purposes?

"I thought you were different," I said to no one in particular. "I really thought this time things would be different."

I had wasted all these years of my life on fake people, chasing money and physical pleasure! Damn! It was all such trash. What did I have to show for it? No real connections, no genuine love, just a series of manipulations and lies.

"What a waste," I muttered bitterly.

For sure, I needed to take action now. I stood up abruptly, poured myself a glass of water from the bedside pitcher, and gulped it down in one go. I inhaled deeply, trying to come back to my normal composed self. "We can go back now," I said to Nathan, my voice flat and emotionless.

"Back where?" he asked, looking worried. "To Angela's house?"

He lowered his gaze to the floor and walked next to me hesitantly. "Dad," he said softly, testing my reaction.

I disagreed automatically, the word cutting through me like a knife. "No, don't call me dad. You're not my son."

He gasped loudly, his eyes filling with fresh tears. "But you said—they promised—"

But I couldn't care anymore. My heart had hardened over the last hour with each new revelation. I was beyond feeling anything except anger and betrayal.

"You've been lied to as well," I said, my voice softer. "I'm sorry about that."

I gestured to him impatiently, "Follow me now. We need to sort this out once and for all." I rushed out of the house, and he tried his best to follow me at the same hurried pace, his small legs working double-time to keep up. I opened the passenger door for him and then jumped into the driver's seat. I drove fast, perhaps too fast, and called both Angela and Bella on my way back to the house.

"Pick up, damn it," I muttered as the calls went to voicemail. "You've got a lot of explaining to do."

None of them replied to my calls, which only fueled my anger further.

In just a few minutes, I pulled up outside my house. I couldn't hide the anger from my face anymore; I couldn't erase the grimace of disgust and betrayal that had settled over my features.

"Are they even going to be there?" Nathan asked quietly. "Or did they run away?"

I halted the car with a screech of tires and almost yelled at Nathan, my patience completely gone. "Get out of my car now. This ends today."

He blinked rapidly, looking hurt and confused. "Dad, please—"

I guess I was yelling so loudly because both Bella and Angela came rushing out of the house, drawn by the commotion. "I said don't call me dad!" I shouted, beyond caring about the neighbors or anyone else who might hear. "Get out of my car right now!"

Angela came rushing to her fake "son" or whatever he was to her, and hugged him protectively, immediately turning to blame me. "How dare you yell at our son like that? What's wrong with you, Angelo?"

"Our son?" I scoffed derisively. "He is your adopted son or rented child for your sick experiment—not my son. Drop the act, Angela. It's over."

Nathan gulped nervously, looking between us adults with fear in his eyes. Bella gasped dramatically, as if she knew nothing about this information, playing innocent.

"Don't pretend you didn't know," I snapped at her. "You were all in on it together."

I wasn't sure what else they might be hiding, but I'd had enough. "Get out of here, all of you. Pack your things and leave my house. I'm done with these games."

Bella responded weirdly and bitterly, with a coldness I hadn't seen from her before. "Okay, fine. Give me my money first, and I'll be on my way."

"What the—? What money?" I asked, annoyed and confused by this new demand.

Bella crossed her arms over her chest defensively, dropping her previous act completely. "Listen carefully, Angelo. I loved you once, and I can't deny that. But I lost the ability to have children due to complications from our relationship. I lost my youth with you—five of my best years. And I became sexually different because of your demands, desiring and craving things I never wanted before. Anyway, I have the right to live comfortably for the rest of my life. I deserve financial security after everything you put me through."

"Is that what this was all about?" I asked incredulously. "Money?"

And suddenly, the real face and purpose of Bella being with me after my open-heart operation was finally exposed. It was never about love or caring—it was about securing her financial future.

"You stayed with me because you thought I might die and leave you something in my will," I realized aloud.

I nodded slowly, processing this. "Okay, I do agree you deserve something. Ten percent of my money," I offered, just wanting her out of my life. "My lawyer will draw up the papers."

And then I turned to Angela, who had been watching our exchange silently. "And you—why all of this elaborate scheme? Money too? I don't think so, because you're already rich from your family. Was it revenge? I didn't kill anyone! I just had a relationship with you that ended badly. So tell me why, Angela? Why go to these lengths?"

"You wouldn't understand," she said quietly.

I wanted an answer, needed to learn something at least, as a lesson to change myself or at least to end this chapter of my past life completely. I had been like any typical man with strong desires—nothing unusual or extraordinary!

"It was for science," she began, but her voice was too quiet.

Angela trembled visibly when I shouted, unable to contain my frustration any longer. "Tell me the fucking truth, now!"

Finally, she spoke clearly, words tumbling out quickly. "Okay, okay! My doctorate research is about abnormal sexual desires and how they can become more than simple addiction. I'm studying new treatment methods for compulsive sexual behavior. You were the perfect case study."

My eyes widened in disbelief. I had never imagined I would be an unwitting case study for someone's academic work! Her doctorate research! The implications hit me all at once—she would have to use my real name and details because I was the patient. It's required for academic validity! She was completely out of her mind.

"Are you absolutely nuts?!" I exploded. "You've been watching and manipulating me for over a year for your research? I would never, ever give you permission to destroy my reputation and career like that. Get out of here immediately!" I pointed my finger toward the street, "Get out now!" I hollered, gritting my teeth so hard my jaw ached.

She was incredibly lucky that I didn't do something more drastic in that moment of blind rage.

"But Angelo, you need help. Trust me on this. Your behavior is textbook compulsive," she dared to touch my arm in what she probably thought was a comforting gesture. I pushed her away roughly, and she almost stumbled backward.

"Don't you dare touch me, Angela. You're the one who needs serious psychological help. You are literally behaving like a sociopath. If you come anywhere near me again, I will press charges and make sure you spend the rest of your life behind bars."

"You wouldn't," she challenged, but her voice wavered.

"Try me," I responded icily. "I have friends in high places too."

My tone was more threatening than I'd intended, but I was beyond caring at this point. These manipulative women had wasted years of my life and completely messed with my head for their own selfish purposes.

"What about me?" Nathan asked in a small voice, reminding us all of his presence.

I looked at the boy, feeling a pang of sympathy despite everything. "Angela will take care of you, or you'll go back to wherever you came from. I'm sorry, but I can't be responsible for you."

I made absolutely sure to kick them all out of my house and my life permanently, watching as they packed their essential belongings and left. I changed the locks immediately afterward.

I couldn't bear to stay at home after everything that had happened—the walls seemed to close in on me with memories of their deception. So I decided to check into a hotel downtown, planning to stay there for a week or however long it took to clear my head and figure out my next steps.

"A fresh start," I told myself firmly. "No more games, no more manipulation."

Just before stepping inside the hotel lobby, my cell phone rang. I checked the caller ID and was surprised to see it was from one of the most famous cardiac surgeons in the country—an old colleague I respected deeply. I picked up immediately, "Hey, Paul! How are you doing? You haven't called me since the last conference in France. It's been what—a year, I guess?"

He chuckled warmly on the other end of the line. "Yes, Angelo, it has been too long. Listen, I need a favor, and it's about my daughter."

"What about your daughter?" I asked with genuine concern, happy to focus on someone else's problems for a change.

He sighed heavily, the sound crackling through the phone. "She's a new intern in your hospital. She's supposed to start tomorrow, but she's extremely nervous about it. She's quite shy and inexperienced in hospital settings. Could you please take her under your wing? I know it's not professionally appropriate to ask for special treatment, but I'm asking you as an old friend. Could you please look out for her?"

"Of course I wouldn't let him down on something so simple. "Sure, absolutely. I'll be there to greet her personally. Don't worry about a thing. What's her name so I know who to look for?"

"Tina Jay Ray," he replied with obvious relief in his voice.

I laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension of my own day. "I know your last name, Paul! Okay, so her name is Tina. I'm sure she's as charmingly ugly as you are, old friend." I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He replied immediately with an unusual seriousness. "That's actually part of the issue. I'll call you later to explain more. Thank you so much, Angelo. I owe you one."

And with that cryptic comment, we hung up.

He truly was rather unattractive—a brilliant mind in an unfortunate package—so I naturally assumed his daughter might have inherited his looks. I didn't understand what he meant when he said "that's the issue" in that serious tone.

"Probably worried about how she'll be treated," I thought to myself. "Medical staff can be cruel to those who don't fit conventional standards."

Because as I would soon discover, her appearance would indeed become quite an issue, though not in the way I expected.

"Well, at least I have something new to focus on," I muttered to myself. I decided I needed to have a drink tonight to relax and then get to the hospital early tomorrow to make sure everything went smoothly for Tina's first day.

I was so lost in thought about tomorrow's plans that I didn't notice I had turned my body too quickly in the hotel lobby and accidentally bumped into someone—a young woman who seemed to be checking in as well. I stared at her for a moment, struck by how graceful she appeared even in our awkward collision.

"Sorry, sir," she said in a very soft, polite voice, though the accident was clearly my fault.

It was absolutely my mistake, but something about her immediate apology irritated me. Perhaps I was just looking to vent my frustrations from the day. "Are you blind? Can't you see where you're going?" I snapped unfairly.

She looked taken aback, her eyes widening slightly. "Sir, with all due respect, you bumped into me while I was standing still. It was your mistake." The young woman remained remarkably composed and polite despite my rudeness.

"So, you're calling me a liar now?" I growled and stepped closer to her, my behavior completely inappropriate. She stepped backward cautiously, maintaining her distance. "What's wrong with you today? Are you always this rude to strangers?"

"I'm having a bad day," I admitted grudgingly.

She simply nodded and walked past me toward the elevator, clearly wanting nothing more to do with me. For some inexplicable reason, I followed her a few steps, continuing my inappropriate behavior. "Hey! I'm talking to you. Why is someone as young as you staying alone in a hotel anyway? Where are your parents? Aren't you a bit young to be traveling alone?"

She ignored me completely, knocking with her keycard at the elevator and speaking politely to the receptionist who happened to be nearby. "Yes, that's my room key working fine. Thank you for checking." She took her confirmed key and walked into the elevator when it arrived.

I found myself watching her departure with interest, as if my old self—the one who enjoyed challenging encounters—was making an unwelcome return. Dr. Angelo, the one who always enjoyed complicated situations more than simple ones.

"Get a grip," I muttered to myself. "This isn't who you want to be anymore."

I smirked at my own weakness and said something completely inappropriate, loud enough for her to hear as the elevator doors began closing: "Still acting innocent? How refreshing."

She froze momentarily, giving me a look of pure disgust before the doors closed completely. I laughed at my own terrible behavior and then checked in at the front desk, trying to put the encounter out of my mind.

"Room 507, please enjoy your stay, Dr. Knight," the receptionist said professionally.

I took the next elevator up and found my room easily enough. However, as I approached my door, I heard some unusual noises coming from inside. Pausing, I realized someone must have been given the wrong room key by mistake.

"Great," I sighed. "Just what I need after this day."