BOUGHT TO BREAK: The Billionaire's Disposable Wife

01

I V Y

Tears rolled down my eyes as I looked at my frail mom. She was laying on the hospital bed, machines hooked up to her. My mom was sick with cancer. The doctors said she had three months to live but can survive up to six months with proper treatments.

That was why I had two jobs. I worked as the cleaner and chef in the hospital. I had to do everything to keep her alive but the downside was that it didn't give me enough time to visit her until it was late in the night.

I was risking it being here by this time of the afternoon but I just needed to see her. Squeezing her hands, I got no response. But that was okay, because she was sleeping.

My eyes drifted to the heart monitor to make sure, and I sighed in relief. My lips wobbled as the tears continued down my face. She looked so still, so lifeless and pale. Sometimes it was scary to look at her.

The door opened and I turned to see Jemma. She had a deep scowl on her face as she glared at me.

"Aren't you supposed to be serving lunch at the cafeteria?" She hissed and placed her hands on her hip.

Jemma was the head chef of the hospital, so she was also my boss. I quickly wiped my face with the back of my hands. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'll be there soon."

"No." She shook her head. She was angry, her face was red and the veins on her neck popped. "To the kitchen. Now!"

"Please, Jemma. Let me just say goodbye–" I didn't get to finish my sentence when Jemma grabbed my arm. Her nails dug into my skin as she dragged me out of the room and roughly shoved me towards the elevator.

I winced in pain, sniffling while also looking back. I wanted to make sure my mom's door was closed properly. It eventually clicked shut after a few long seconds.

Nurses and doctors watched as I was being manhandled by Jemma. They didn't say anything, not like I expected them to. This was how they were. Uncaring. And also the same.

Sometimes they yelled at me for no reason. I often wondered if they were even treating my mom. Dr. Nathan assured me they were. He was the only one that was nice to me. Unfortunately he didn't work all the time.

Jemma shoved me into the kitchen, and I mistakenly slammed my head on the edge of the fridge. A cry left my lips as I reached up to touch it.

Blood coated my hands and the tears just kept falling as I stared at my bloody hands through blurry vision. The others gave me pitiful looks but said nothing.

"Wash up and get dressed." Jemma tossed my apron towards me then left after barking at some others to join her outside. It landed at my feet. With a soft nod, I washed up at the sink and dawned on the apron.

"Wait," Olivia called when I moved to step out. I stopped and turned to her. She held up a band aid. "Here. It's a small cut, but you're still bleeding."

I thanked her and took the band aid, placing it on my forehead. Then, I went to do my job. Serve.

My mom got cancer right after I was done with high school. She was the only one I had and she'd given up everything for me to go to college. Of course I couldn't just up and leave for college when she had cancer.

So I touched all our savings but it was never enough. She got weaker everyday, thinner. We knew it was time for her to be admitted to the hospital. And so I offered to work to pay the bills.

My dad had left us when I was only five. I didn't remember much of him anyway, but mom said he wasn't a good husband or father. It was just two of us against the world, and everyday I prayed that she wouldn't leave me.

Not yet. I wasn't ready to do this life on my own. I couldn't.

We served doctors, and nurses as they took their lunch break. This lunch floor was for the employees. There was another one on the ground floor for the patients and family of patients. I had never worked there.

I think Jemma didn't want them to see how I was treated. It would be bad for business. But what could I expect from a general hospital?

The money wasn't there to put my mom in a private hospital. I almost always begged Dr. Nathan not to leave but that would be selfish. He had his family to go back to. So I could only wait until his next shift.

Soon enough, I was done serving and it was time for my clean up job. Before I left, I went to Jemma, I had to ask for permission to leave.

My knuckles rapped on her door and her snarky "come in" met my ears. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and walked in.

"Hi, I just wanted to let you know I'll be going to clean," I told her. My voice was not more than a squeak.

She slowly raised her head to me, then rolled her eyes and let out an irritated sigh. Like I was nothing more than a lint on her clothes.

Then she uttered words that made my heart crack in my chest. "Your salary will be reduced by five percent. That's for the stress you put me through to go looking for you when it was time for you to work."

"Please, Jemma." I sank to my knees. "Please, don't do this. It's just once and I needed to see her, please," I begged and began to cry again.

My face burned from crying all day, and my head pounded in my skull. Jemma ignored me, going back to her paperwork.

I kept pleading, begging her. I needed all the money I could get. Every. Single. Penny. And here she was, cutting me off by five percent. I wasn't even making much in the first place so five percent was a big deal. Twenty dollars an hour was not enough to sort out my mom's bills.

"Leave my office, Ivy," Jemma snapped after she'd had enough of my sobs. But I shook my head and kept begging, hoping she would change her mind. This was the first time-in the four months I've worked here- that I turned up late to work. She could just spare me, pardon me. She could have a little compassion, knowing my situation.

I should've known. It was wishful thinking. Jemma's heart was as hard as ice, and it wouldn't thaw. Grabbing me by my arm again,-the same arm she dug her nails into-she threw me out of her office.

And I landed as a heap on the floor with tears running down my face. Then she slammed the door shut.

>>>>

It was finally evening and I had not stopped crying. I'd left my mom's room because I needed a breather. My mom had woken up a few times, but she was too groggy to talk so I shushed her back to sleep.

I nursed the chocolate bar I grabbed from the vending machine while sitting at the empty reception of the hospital. It was quiet and empty for the first time in months. Even the receptionist wasn't on her seat at the moment.

Taking the opportunity, I let my eyes drift shut as I chewed. If there was anything I needed, it was a miracle.

As if my thoughts had been answered, a click of heels forced my eyes open. And I stared at the lady that was currently walking towards me.

She was dressed in a brown trench coat that was tied around her waist, and high heels that looked too expensive. She smelled expensive too.

I shrunk in my chair the closer she got to me. My eyes darted left and right, and there was no one else here except for us.

Her hair was in long blonde waves, and when she reached me, I was blown away by how stunning she was. Her scent enveloped me like a warm hug, then she smiled at me. Red ruby lips spread into a large smile.

"Hello," she said, looming over me and forcing my head to tilt upwards. "I'm Marianne, and I have a proposal for you."

She held red painted hands out for a handshake. I eyed the hand warily, noting the diamond encrusted watch that adorned her wrists.

I blinked. Once. "I'm Ivy Cole," I told her then took another bite of my chocolate bar. It was a nervous tick.

"This date, time and venue." She handed me a card. "Five million dollars to marry my son, Elliot Grayson. One year. What do you say, Ivy Cole?"