Suddenly, my wandering mind was brought back to reality by a thunderous slap. "I warned you not to fuck with me!" A handsome young man dressed in a three-piece suit yelled at me. I clutched my neck, dragging it closer to his face, taking my entire frail body away from the floor where I was kneeling helplessly. The smells from his body seem heavenly, and in my small mind, it will cost a fortune to smell that good and maintain such standards. "I..." stammered in confusion about what to say. I tried using my two hands to take his clenched fist off my neck, but I couldn't. So overpowering and captivating, but still so alluring. As my eyes wander around in surprise,. Mary Davenport's life took a sudden turn when her identity was mistaken for someone whom she never was by the enigmatic acting CEO of the Duerte conglomerate, Fengor Duerte. What will happen when the secret of her dark past and the true identity of her person, kept by her beloved, are revealed? Will she let go or hold on to her past? What role will Fengor Duerte play for her to find peace, true love, and lasting happiness?
Chapter 1 Cancer
MARY POV
Go and remove that thing in your stomach!" Alex bellowed at me, "I am not part of this and never will I be part of this." His thick and sonorous utterance hit me like a tidal wave.
"Alex, please wait." I tried to block his pathway to prevent him from reaching the doorway.
"You have two options: either you remove that thing from your belly or you fall in line with my plans."
He swung me to a nearby couch, not minding the pain that was rapidly sent to my spine after hitting my head against the frame of the couch. Regardless, I mustered up the courage to grab his leg. He looked at me with contempt and violently shook his leg off my hands, as if I had contracted leprosy.
Alex slammed the door against my face. Everything in the room resonates with the same intensity, causing my favorite picture to leave its nail and smash goes to the ground below. I could hear his determined footsteps fading away into the darkness of the night.
"Alex!" I cried out in pain, stretching my hand like a poor infant separated from his parents by night invaders. I crawled to the shelf to pick up the vodka, maybe it will play its usual role of suppressing the pain for a while and a few moments later, Mother Nature played her own role on me.
***
My phone rang, knowing full well that Alex was gone for good, and interrupting the little sleep I was trying to grab from the torrid emotional conversation we had earlier, no thanks to the shots of vodka that had wickedly played their own part on me.
My room was partially dark; only the beam from the phone illuminated it. As my eyes squinted, I attempted to reach for my phone, but my tired body would not let it. Who could be calling at this hour of the night? It's damn three o'clock by the wall clock hanging freely on the wall, staring its ugly face at me.
My second thought crept in.
"Oh! Cynthia," What else does she want now? At the very least, we discussed on the phone a few hours ago about things I would be bringing to the hospital for my mother's upkeep in the morning. Cynthia, my childhood friend, used to stands in the gap for me when I'm not around to take care of my mother.
The phone rang again. I picked it up this time, but with annoyance.
"Cee-Cee, when will you have any decency of waiting till daybreak before..." I was not so patient to listen to the voice at the other end, but it was received by a very tiny female voice.
"Is that Mary Davenport?" The voice was cutting in.
"Yes," I grudgingly replied.
"How may I be of help?" I don't think you can be of help to wake me up from the sleep I have been longing to catch, made possible by the bottle of vodka that has gummed itself to me on the bed like a newlywed couple, I murmured to myself.
"This is the emergency desk of Midview Hospital."
"What is it?" My instinct tells me that something is wrong, and it is about my mother's health.
"There has been a new development concerning your mother's health. Dr. Morgan will want to see you as soon as possible as regards your mother's health."
I jumped up from my bed. "When will he be off?" I replied nervously as I managed to look for words to say.
"Maybe in about two hours," she replied.
"I'm on my way, please!" I uttered it frighteningly.
"But, is Cynthia not there with her?" I anxiously inquired.
"Oh! Sorry, sensitive issues of this magnitude can only be discussed with relatives of the patient; hence, your presence is needed here as soon as possible, the voice replied.
Roughly about an hour later, I found myself at the office door of Dr. Morgan. Curiosity filled me. I knew it was not good news.The hospital never calls at this hour of the night to give good news. I mustered up the courage to knock on his door, not waiting for his "come in" approval.
Dropping his big spectacle to the tip of his nose, looking at me pitifully, while his gaze is fixed on the computer screen and his fingers are aggressively hitting the keyboard. He managed to direct me to a seat as he continued with his typing. At this point, I was worried, completely covered in sweat, despite how cozy his office was and the A.C. optimally performing its function.
He finally picked up his intercom.
"Kindly send the file of the patient in ward E15 to me now." In a fraction of a minute, a knock was heard, and a middle-aged woman stepped in, handing over the file to Dr. Morgan.
He looked at the inscription on the well-sealed, transparent envelope without bothering to open it. He slightly cleared his throat.
"I'm deeply sorry to inform you that the report here indicates this patient is battling throat cancer." The words hit me like a passing train, my heart racing with disbelief.
"Cancer? How come?" My voice trembled with anxiety; each word choked with deep emotion.
"But the good news is that, it's still at the early stage, a surgical operation will have to be carried out on the patient as soon as possible to give the patient a chance of recovery."
I summoned up the courage. Tears welled my eyelids, I lost myself in thought, and my voice cracked in disbelief.
"How much will be needed for all these?"I asked in pain.
"You know, my dear, your mother's medicare has not been..."
"Fuck medicare!! Give me the cost and save me the story." I snapped.
"N...not really sure," he stuttered.
"It should be around twenty-five thousand dollars, but you can approach the billing/finance department; it's at the first turn to the right along the hallway." He muttered.
With pain and utter confusion in me, I am not bothering myself to check on my mother and Cynthia. I picked up my phone and dialed. "I'm ready".
"Are you sure?" A thick voice replied.
"Check your phone now!" He instructed.
Garutta Inn.
9:30 am.
Lateness won't be tolerated.
I checked the time, and I knew I should make it there on time with the help of my rickety bike.
"Grrrrr..."
Then my phone buzzed in my back pocket. "I'm on my way right now." I reluctantly replied as I mounted my bike.
"Sorry, is this Mary Davenport?" A familiar voice sounded.
"Yes", I replied.
"This is Dr. Morgan on the line. His voice quivered.
"Please, would you be kind enough to come to the hospital now!" He stuttered.
"No, I hope all is well," I replied as I skipped a bit.
"T... There is a slight mix-up in the file of your mother with a patient of the same surname." He stuttered.
"What?" I opened my mouth in awe and couldn't close it.
"The result here shows..." he paused for a moment as his voice hung in the air like a dark cloud, while I anticipated.
"Your mother has less than six months to live."