TBG - Chapter 3: Unnamed Benefactor

It was well past midnight when Nadia stumbled into the hospital, her legs heavy with exhaustion. She had just finished her third job of the day, cleaning offices long after everyone else had gone home. Her hair was a mess, her clothes wrinkled, and her eyes bore dark circles from countless sleepless nights. The clock by the reception desk read 2:03 AM, and the hospital was eerily quiet, save for the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional murmur from the nurses’ station.

She made her way to the accounting office, each step feeling heavier than the last. The envelope in her hand, containing what little money she had managed to scrape together, felt impossibly light compared to the weight of her desperation.

When she finally reached the small office, she knocked hesitantly on the glass window. A weary-looking clerk glanced up from her computer and motioned for her to step closer.

“Hi,” Nadia began, her voice hoarse from a long day of work. “I—I’m here about my brother’s account. Christopher Vaccaro.” She swallowed hard. “Please, he’s been getting worse. I know we still owe so much, but if you could just allow another round of chemotherapy, I swear I’ll pay every cent. I’ll take on more shifts, work harder—anything.”

The clerk sighed, her fingers typing away at the keyboard. Nadia gripped the counter, her breath hitching as she waited.

“Christopher Vaccaro,” the clerk repeated, scanning her screen. Her brow furrowed slightly. “There must be a mistake.”

Nadia’s heart sank. “What kind of mistake? Did something happen to him? Please, tell me—”

“No, no,” the clerk interrupted, waving a hand. “It’s not that. It’s just... there’s no balance owed on this account. Everything’s been paid.”

For a moment, Nadia froze, her tired brain struggling to process the words. “Paid? That can’t be right. We owe millions.”

The clerk turned the screen slightly, showing Nadia the account summary. “It’s all here. The entire bill, including future treatments, was settled yesterday.”

Nadia’s knees buckled slightly, and she gripped the edge of the counter for support. “But... how? Who would pay something like that?”

The clerk shrugged, her expression indifferent. “It was an anonymous payment. No name, no details. Just a cleared account.”

Nadia’s eyes burned with unshed tears, a mix of overwhelming relief and confusion. “Are you sure? There’s no way to find out who did this?”

The clerk shook her head. “Sorry. Whoever it was, they didn’t leave any information.”

Nadia stood there in stunned silence, her hands trembling as she clutched the edge of the counter. The weight of her exhaustion seemed to lift slightly, replaced by the surreal realization that her brother’s life was no longer hanging by a financial thread.

She mumbled a quiet thank-you before turning and walking back down the corridor. The dim lights cast long shadows on the floor, and her reflection in the glass windows looked as bewildered as she felt.

Nadia pushed open the door to Christopher’s hospital room, but to her shock, the bed was empty. Panic gripped her chest as she glanced around, her tired eyes searching for her brother. “Chris?” she called, her voice trembling.

Before she could move further, a nurse entered the room, her expression calm and reassuring. “Ms. Vaccaro?”

“Yes,” Nadia replied, her voice tight with worry. “Where’s my brother? What happened to him?”

The nurse offered her a kind smile. “Your brother has been transferred to a more comfortable room. He’s now in our VIP suite—it’s the most expensive room in the hospital.”

Nadia blinked in disbelief. “What? Why? I didn’t request that, and I… I can’t afford—”

The nurse gently interrupted, “You don’t have to worry. Everything has been taken care of. The benefactor who cleared your hospital debts also arranged for your brother to receive the best accommodations and care. You’ll find him resting comfortably now.”

Staggered by the news, Nadia nodded numbly and followed the nurse to the new room. The VIP suite was nothing like the cramped, sterile room Christopher had been in before. It was spacious, with large windows that let in soft light, a comfortable seating area, and state-of-the-art equipment. Christopher lay on the plush bed, his frail body surrounded by monitors that beeped steadily.

As she approached, Christopher stirred and opened his eyes, looking up at her with a weak but curious smile. “Nads… what’s going on?” he murmured.

Nadia sank into the chair beside him, her fingers brushing his cheek. “Chris, someone—someone paid all our bills. The hospital transferred you here, to this suite. They said everything’s taken care of, even the future costs. And your next chemotherapy is scheduled in five hours. They’re bringing in the best doctor for you.”

Christopher’s eyes widened in astonishment. “All of it? Who would…?”

Nadia shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, Chris. They didn’t tell me who. But it’s real. You’re going to get the treatment you need.”

A tear slid down Christopher’s cheek, and he reached out weakly to hold Nadia’s hand. “It feels like a dream.”

She smiled softly, though confusion and gratitude warred in her heart. “It does. But whoever did this gave us a chance—a real chance.”

As she sat beside her brother, she glanced around the luxurious room, her heart heavy with questions. Who would go to such lengths to help them? Why? The clerk’s words replayed in her mind: “Everything is already paid.”

For now, all she could do was focus on Christopher’s recovery. But deep down, Nadia couldn’t shake the unease. This act of kindness was life-changing, but what would it cost her in the end?

Chris’s eyes widened as he looked around the luxurious hospital room. The soft lighting, sleek furniture, and advanced medical equipment made the place seem like a five-star suite, and for a moment, he felt a sense of awe. "Wow, this room... It's incredible," Chris murmured. "Did Dad... pay for this?"

Nadia's expression instantly hardened, her fingers tightening on the railing. "I don't want to hear about him, Chris," she snapped, her voice cold and sharp.

"But he's rich, Nads. He could’ve helped," Chris pressed.

Nadia's jaw clenched as the familiar surge of bitterness rose in her chest. "It’s not just about money," she said, her voice low but filled with disdain. "It’s about him abandoning us when we needed him most."

Her mind raced back to eight years ago when she called him in desperation, their mother lying in a hospital bed, fighting cancer. She could still hear his indifferent words, cold and dismissive: "Your mom and I already broke up. She's not my responsibility anymore."

Nadia's hands trembled with anger as the memory flooded back. "He didn’t care. He told me she wasn’t his responsibility anymore. And that was it. No concern for his family. He just... walked away."

Chris fell silent, guilt washing over him. He hadn’t known the full extent of Nadia’s pain.

"I’m sorry, Nads," he said softly, placing a hand on her arm.

Nadia shook her head, her eyes flashing with the remnants of her hurt and fury. "It’s not your fault," she muttered, her anger simmering beneath the surface. "But don’t expect anything from him. He’s never been there for us. If he paid for this room, it’s not out of love. It’s just another way for him to buy his way out of his responsibilities."

Chris remained silent, the weight of her words sinking in. He understood now. "I’m just... grateful for everything you’ve done for me, Nads. I don’t know how you’ve managed it all, but I owe you everything."

Nadia’s anger softened slightly as she looked at him, but there was still a sharp edge in her voice. "You don’t owe me anything, Chris. I just want you to get better."

A moment of silence passed before Nadia’s phone buzzed on the small table beside her. She glanced at the screen, and her stomach dropped.

Cynthia.

Her fingers hesitated above the screen. She hadn’t heard from Cynthia since that night—the night she had left the club in a rush, unsure of everything. The tension between them after her abrupt departure left her feeling uncertain about how to approach the situation.

With a deep breath, she tapped the message open, trying to calm the nervous flutter in her chest.

Cynthia:

“Hey, Nadia. I just wanted to let you know I’m not upset about you leaving the club. Honestly, I think you made the right call. After that night, everything went downhill fast. Mr. Edwards’ business went bankrupt, and he was a big part of the club. In just a few days, the club’s gone—vanished. It’s hard to believe, but it’s true. You dodged a major mess. Don’t feel guilty. Take care of yourself and Chris. You’re better off now.”

Nadia’s grip on the phone tightened. She stared at the message, her heart racing. The club—the one that had been the city’s most famous—was gone? Just like that?

She glanced over at Chris, who was still resting peacefully, unaware of the storm of thoughts racing through her mind. How could something so big disappear so suddenly? It didn’t make sense.

The more she thought about it, the more confused she became. What was really happening behind the scenes? She had no answers, but the uncertainty only deepened the mystery.