We're Losing Her!

DANIEL'S POINT OF VIEW

I paced back and forth outside the ICU room, my heart racing with anxiety. It had been an hour since I made the deposit, and Mrs. Matthew was still in surgery. My palms were sweaty, and for the first time in a long time, I found myself silently praying to God. She had to pull through; I needed her to. She was my only hope for finding Darla.

I took a seat, my gaze fixed on the red light outside the ICU room, indicating that the surgery was still ongoing. Suddenly, a doctor and nurse burst out of the room, their faces etched with concern, sweat dripping from their brows, and their gloves stained with blood. Their eyes were wide with terror, and I immediately jumped to my feet.

"We need more blood! We're losing her!" the doctor yelled to the nurse as they rushed forward, ignoring my frantic questions.

What is going on in there?

My heart was racing even faster, I felt like I might be on the verge of a heart attack. Losing her? That can't be. She can't die. I need her alive.

After a few minutes, the doctor and nurse rushed back in with packets of blood, and the door closed once more, leaving me reeling with questions.

I couldn't sit back down and began pacing back and forth, my heart heavy with trepidation. The doctor's words kept echoing in my ear, a stark contrast to my phone's incessant ringing. I knew it was Florence, my secretary, calling.

I hadn't lied about having a client coming in, but it wasn't a serious one that required my full attention. Still, a client is a client, regardless.

After waiting for four agonizing hours, the red light finally turned off. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, having stared at the light for so long. The doctor who had earlier rushed out, accompanied by another female doctor, walked out of the operating room.

I immediately rose to my feet and approached the doctors. "How is she?" I asked, my voice laced with urgency.

"She's currently stable," the female doctor replied. "We did our best, and now we can only pray that she pulls through."

"When can I see her?" I pressed on.

"Given her medical history, it's hard to predict when she'll wake up," the male doctor said.

"Medical history?" I inquired, my voice tinged with curiosity.

"Yes, during the operation, we found stitches around her heart, indicating previous surgery," the male doctor explained. "We suspect she may have had Lymphoma or a Primary Cardiac Tumor. She might have been a cancer patient."

"A cancer patient?" I blurted out, shocked. "I had no idea."

"We can't determine the severity of her past medical issues, but it may impact her recovery, considering she was shot close to the heart," the female doctor said. "We've done our best, and now all we can do is pray that she wakes up."

"What are the chances she'll wake up?" I asked, my voice quivering slightly.

The doctors exchanged a hesitant glance, drawing deep breaths before responding. "It's uncertain, but we can estimate an eighty-twenty rotation," the female doctor said.

"Eighty percent chance she'll wake up, right?" I asked, seeking clarification.

The female doctor took another deep breath, her eyes softening with a hint of pity. "Eight percent chance she might not wake up."

My eyes widened in disbelief before dropping to the floor.

A whole eighty percent! Darla never mentioned her mother's medical issues, despite sharing many intimate details with me.

This revelation leaves me wondering whether Darla knew about her mother's history. The Darla I knew was open to me, making this secrecy puzzling.

I can't let Mrs. Matthew die. I am holding on to that twenty percent chance. She has to survive.

"Can we move her to the VIP ward? I'll handle the payment," I asked, meeting their gaze after a moment of introspection.

"Absolutely," the male doctor replied with a smile. "Moving her to a VIP ward improves the odds to fifty-fifty."

I nodded in response before speaking again. "I'll be back to check on her in a few days. In case of any issues, I'll leave my number with the receptionist so you can contact me."

"That's fine by us," the doctor said as we walked towards the reception area.

After leaving my information with the receptionist and paying for Mrs. Matthew's VIP treatment, I spent a few minutes with her before heading to the office.

As I approached my office door, I saw Amaya emerge from it, a devilish smirk on her face and a glint in her eyes.

Oh fuck, she caught me. How am I going to talk my way out of this?

I immediately turned to Florence, who was by my side, feeling a surge of anger for not informing me about Amaya's arrival. I couldn't act surprised, or Amaya would know I lied to them that morning. I needed to act nonchalant.

"Brother, where have you been?" Amaya said sweetly, but I knew it was a lie. "I've been waiting in your office for so long that I got bored. I was already on my way home."

Her arrival could only mean one thing - they didn't believe my story this morning. And it left me wondering if she had been tailing me when I went to Darla's house.

Amaya pulled me into a hug, which felt suffocating.

She pulled away, and I took a deep breath, running my hands through my hair. Amaya's piercing green eyes seemed to bore into my soul, making me feel like an outsider once again. She was the spitting image of my mother, while I took after my father, a man I didn't particularly care for.

"So, brother, tell me, where have you been?" Amaya asked, brushing her hair away from her face. "Florence here told me you haven't been in the office since."

I turned to Florence, trying to hide my frustration. She gazed at me with pleading eyes. I think I need a new secretary.

I wiped my face before asking, "What brings you here, Amaya?"

"What? Can't I visit my brother anymore?" Amaya replied.

Just then, James, my best friend, appeared, wearing a sleek white and black suit, his dark eyes and hair complemented by a charming smirk. "Is she disturbing you?" he asked, his voice smooth.

"I was just asking my brother a question," Amaya retorted.

"Well, if you must know, Daniel went out with me," James said, his tone casual.

"To where?" Amaya probed, her curiosity piqued.

"That's none of your business," James replied. "You're leaving, right? So, bye."

James wrapped his hand around my neck, and together we walked into my office, leaving Amaya behind.

I exhaled as we entered my office, my body instinctively slumping onto the couch. "Thanks, man," I said to James, who stood watching me with a concerned expression.

"Anytime," James replied. "I've got something to tell you."

"What is it?" I asked, sitting up straighter.

"Do you know Monica's married?" James asked, raising an eyebrow.

Monica was my childhood friend, and our friendship was great until she wasn't. That's when I realized how obsessive she was over me.

"Well, that's good," I said, relaxing into the sofa. "At least now she's someone else's problem."

James chuckled lightly, and I hesitated, unsure if I should share my secret. The doctors had told me something privately, and I wasn't sure if I could keep it to myself.

I needed to confide in someone, but could I really trust James? He had been my friend for as long as I could remember, so I decided to take a chance.

"James, I need to tell you something," I said, my voice growing serious.