Billionaire's secret desire

ELLA

I pressed my forehead against the cold glass looking into the ICU, trying to steady the trembling in my hands. Through the transparent barrier, my mother lay down surrounded by a bunch of machines, their rhythmic beeping the only sound in the room. Tubes and wires impaled parts of her fragile body, connecting her to the devices that seemed to mock me with their multiple beeping. I wanted her to wake up, tell me that everything would be alright and that I should focus on my life. Her chest rose and fell in time with the ventilator, but it was the only movement, the only sign that she was still here with me.

I watched a nurse walk up to me with a pained smile. Surely, she was aware of my suffering.

"You can get changed and go in to see your mother now." She smiled. I wanted to reciprocate the gesture but I didn't have it in me.

I got changed and walked into the room. Slowly and carefully, I sat by her bedside. I lifted one of her hands by the wrist and kissed it. Remembering how the last time that she was awake, we had finally decided to make bread that had carrots in it. I laughed at the memory.

"Mum, remember how you disagreed that carrots don't belong in bread dough? But you still agreed to make it," I sniffled. Holding back the tears.

"All because I wouldn't shut up about carrot cake and carrot bread being similar," My laughter was pained.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound breaking my pained silence. Mum's face, once full of life, looked so pale and fragile. The oxygen mask covered her mouth, making her breathing shallow and labored. Had she always been breathing so hard since I came into the room?

I clenched her fists, trying to hold back more tears that threatened to spill. Something was wrong.

"Mum?"

What was going on?

The door to the room swung open, and a team of doctors rushed in. Soon, I was being ejected from the room by two elder nurses who had pitiable expressions on their faces.

"You need to leave the room miss, your mother will be alright." They reassured while sitting me down. They left almost immediately.

My tears finally came down like a waterfall. I stood up, placing my head on the glass window and watching as they tried to keep her alive. Still in this world with me.

I wanted to scream, to shatter the glass that separated us, as if that could break the spell that kept her imprisoned in that unmoving body. But I knew it was useless. I was as powerless as she was, standing here in the hallway with nothing to do but watch and wait as the doctors did their best.

The main doctor with Marud written on his name tag, approached me. He was a tall man with a stern expression. Looking at him made me fear the worst.

"Miss Fitzgerald? We need to act fast," he said, his voice calm but urgent.

"Act fast?" I was confused now. What did he mean? "Is my mum dying?"

"Your mother just had another heart attack. We're doing everything we can to stabilize her, but there's something else you need to know." He clenched his notepad.

My heart pounded in my chest, I could hear it with my breath catching in my throat.

"What is it?" I choked out, my voice barely a whisper.

"The tests we ran earlier revealed that your mother's kidneys are failing," the doctor continued. "She needs a transplant as soon as possible. Without it, her chances of survival are very slim. For now, she'll be placed on dialysis three times a week. Her heart condition will also be monitored to manage any incoming attacks"

The world felt like it was spinning around me. This couldn't be happening. Not now, not when we were just beginning to mend our fractured relationship after we lost Dad.

"There will be more of that?" My chest heaved.

"We hope not, but there are high chances of it. She needs that transplant soon, as it is the root cause."

"A kidney transplant? How much is it? How much time do we have?"

"We will put her on dialysis to buy some time," the doctor explained, "but dialysis is only a temporary solution. We need to start looking for a donor immediately. And there's another matter we would have to overcome."

I knew it and could sense the weight of what he was about to say. It was my main handicap at the moment.

"The cost," I murmured, my voice trembling. It was almost too hard to speak.

Doctor Marud nodded, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

"Yes. The surgery, the post-operative care, and the medications. It's all very expensive. You'll need to bring a significant amount of money."

My mind was racing. How could I come up with that kind of money? I had some savings, but it was nothing near what a transplant would cost.

"How much are we talking about?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"The money might be higher than fifty to hundred thousand dollars," the doctor replied. "That's depending on complications and the duration of her stay in the ICU."

I felt the ground tip and my knees gave in. Doctor Marud helped me to the chair. I could barely keep mum alive with the little money I had, and now I have to somehow find a way to pay for a life-saving transplant?

"I don't have that kind of money," I cried. "What am I supposed to do?"

"The dialysis would help but somehow, you'd have to find a way to pay the fees to commence with the surgery. That's the only way for Mrs. Fitzgerald to survive."

The doctor said there was still hope, but his voice was tinged with the kind of detachment that only comes from delivering bad news too many times. I didn't believe him. How could I, when every passing second seemed to take my mum further away from me?

I nodded numbly, my mind clouded with the thought of loans, selling what little we had at home, and calling a few friends for help. There were no extended relatives that would render financial aid.

''I'll figure something out," I forced a smile, more for myself as encouragement than for the doctor. A single thought kept running through my mind.

'How am I going to do this alone?'