Chapter Four

"No, I can't do this, Josh." Faith stuttered, words failing her.

The old man sat back on his chair, the look of joy fading away and replaced with a paralysed state of grief. She was helpless. He possibly couldn't tell her to marry his son whom she knew for a few hours. And disliked.

He had told her how Alex was alone, hating himself and the world; how he lacked soft feelings, how he functioned like a goddamn robot with no emotions, no joy, whatsoever. She empathized. She felt bad for Alex but that didn't mean she would agree to marry him.

Marriage had to be out of love. At least, that's what she believed. For her, marriage was holy and sacred, it was meant to take place between people who loved, cherished and supported each other. Not strangers who met for a few hours. She sighed.

"Faith, I can't force you. But please think about it." He requested with the same gentle softness that he had shown her since the day she started working for him.

She nodded reluctantly and got up. But the question kept popping up in her mind. Why her, of all people?

"Sir, there are so many good women out there. Why did you-"

"He needs you." He mouthed in a whisper.

The silliness of the statement made her thoroughly uneasy; she felt anxious because she grasped the situation other than denying it. She understood his statement and his need for his son. Her entire body shook when she staggered back to her own cabin, entangled in thoughts.

Her phone rang, banishing all the thoughts that were sabotaging her, "Hello, who's this?"

"Miss Cole? This is about your grandmother. Her oxygen levels are degrading. Please come to the nursing home right away."

Faith didn't wait for the other person to finish as she ran halfway across the floor and leaped into the elevator. Her precious granny was ill? The sudden flash of the old woman's imminent death danced in front of her vision, blurring it with consistent tear drops.

No, she couldn't lose her.

The journey to the nursing home from her office was passed in a split. Faith's heart was breaking. Maybe that was why she had felt so scared earlier today. The fear of death, probably. She hurried towards her granny's room after reaching the nursing home. The nurses were all lined up beside her bed. There were two doctors. The first one was Dr. Peters who had been involved in her granny's treatment from the start. The second one was a young woman, probably of her age or a few years older than her. She seemed new.

"Miss Cole, this is Dr. Amelia O'Brien."

The young doctor smiled at Faith and she smiled back. "What happened to gran?" Her face was clouded with worry.

Amelia's smile faded away as she spoke, "Miss Cole, I'm afraid the cancer is spreading throughout her blood. Rapidly, I must say. She won't survive if it-"

"What can be done to save her?" Faith couldn't bear to listen any further so she voiced out the only question she wanted to ask so desperately.

"In case of Lymphocytic Leukemia which your grandmother has, surgery rarely plays any important role, because the cancer cells are all over the blood," Dr. Peters said in his gentle voice.

"Cross out surgery. Anything else?" Faith questioned again, restless.

When she didn't get a reply, she asked again, with a persistent aura. "Doctor, you know I have no one else but her. Please, if there's any way she can be saved, let me know."

"An Allogeneic stem cell transplant may help her." Dr. Amelia spoke this time.

"What's that?"

"Miss Cole, it's a process which allows doctors to use higher doses of chemo, sometimes along with radiation, to kill the cancer cells. And after these treatments are finished, the patient gets an infusion of blood-forming stem cells to restore their bone marrow."

"In Allogeneic stem cell transplant, the patient would be infused with a donor's stem cells whose tissue type closely match with the patient's." Dr. Amelia took a deep breath and finished.

Faith nodded her head in understanding. Though everything was a bit too complicated for her mind to grasp, she still got the idea.

"Then, do it. Do this transplant thing."

"Do you have any idea how much it will cost, Miss Cole?" Dr. Peters was an amazingly understanding person and he knew Faith did everything alone.

"How much?"

"A fortune. For her condition, she must have at least ten appointments every month until she's cured. Each treatment costs nearly $30, 000."

Faith staggered back and held the nearby chair for support. Her entire salary was worth two treatments. She closed her eyes as the stingy feeling of despair embraced her. She also didn't have much savings because of her granny's previous chemotherapy treatments.

"I'll see what I can do. Can I stay alone with her for a moment?"

Dr. Peters smiled at Faith. "You can. Her oxygen levels are normal now."

The doctors and nurses left the room and Faith sat beside her granny. "Oh, gran. What will I do?" She heard her voice crack.

The oxygen mask on the old woman's face pained Faith. She couldn't see her precious Jennifer lying lifeless, taking oxygen from the oxygen cylinder, artificially. She hated the sight of her not being able to breathe on her own.

She stayed there, seated in silence, waiting for an answer. In her case, there was no one who could show her light. No one who could help her.

She didn't know for how long she sat there, tears drying on her face; her half-closed eyes snap opened when she heard her phone ringing. It was an unknown number.

"Hi, Miss Faith Cole?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Benedict. Mr. Alexander Hamilton's secretary. Can you please meet him tonight at 8pm? It's urgent. I'll send you the address of the venue." The call disconnected in sheer urgency.

Alexander? Why did he want to meet her? She couldn't imagine if she would be of any help to him.

But she was invited. She was told it was urgent and it was only good manners that she should go. Calming her wrecking nerves, she got up, kissed her granny on the cheek and left for her apartment.

It was fifteen minutes to eight when she got out of her house. She had eaten, changed her work clothes and applied make-up. It sounded pathetic but she was allowed to apply make-up in front of a handsome man. Wait, did she think Alexander was handsome? Well, of course, she did.

She thought he was one of the best looking men she had ever seen. But she didn't dress to impress. She just wanted to. She had worn coffee coloured chinos with a red baggey sweatshirt that was a couple of sizes too big for her. It was trendy, though. She had tied her head into a bun while messy tresses fell around her small, oval countenance.

She took a cab to the meeting point. It was Alexander's mansion. New York mansion. Rumours said that he had many mansions across many parts of the world. Faith didn't care. The only thing that was bugging her was the sudden meeting Alexander had planned with her. What was so urgent? And how could she help him?

Thoughts spiraled into her head, taking her back to the moment when Josh had proposed her to marry Alex. She was so embarrassed just thinking about it now. How would she face him after all this? Did he know? A barrage of questions were slinging from different parts of her brain and converging at one point in the form of a terrible headache.

She entered through the iron gates when a security guard stopped her. "Who are you, miss?"

"I'm Faith Cole. I'm here to meet Mr. Hamilton." She said and the guard immediately bowed his head and let her enter.

The mansion stood stall. There was a small path that led to the beautiful built-up of cement and bricks. The path was paved and there was garden on either sides. The lush green grass, flowering plants and small bonsai trees made the fronting look divine. As for the house, it was two-storey, broad and spacious. The outside was graphite grey in colour. Though the colour was a bit too dull to be applied on a mansion's exterior, the serenity of the grey monochrome, like a pencil sketch, appealed to Faith.

It also gave a warning, she imagined. A warning of icy coldness and dullness inside.

Shrugging her shoulders, she knocked at the front door; her fingers slipping on the wooden mahogany polish. The door was opened a bit later by a old woman with smiling eyes.

"You must be Faith? Hi, my dear. Come inside." British accent rolled out of her tongue with sophistication.

Faith followed inside. The living room was much brighter than she had expected. It had large arched windows and through them, light was flowing through all seasons, gracing the air without favour, illuminating the sweet-toffee browns of the wooden floor.

The entire house, or at least the down floor as she had only seen that, was made of wood. The ragged edges of wooden and glass furniture, large glass windows and wooden floor. The house was beautifully decorated with picture frames and wall-hangings, flower vases containing lilies, a stack of books and newspapers and every decorative and regal article one could find.

"Faith, you're here." His familiar spine-chilling voice was heard.

She looked behind to see him descending down the brown wooden staircase. He was in casuals; a blue sweater with black sweat pants. A weird combination, to be honest.

"This is Marie. She is kind of the house manager. She takes care of this house when I'm not here." He said.

The old woman smiled and left us alone to talk. Faith fidgeted with her fingers as Alex approached her, coming face to face with her, looking into her eyes.

"What is the matter?"

"Marry me, Faith." That was what he said, pressing a small smile on his lips.

Faith was puzzled, well saying that would be an understatement.