The Bargain

I rushed to her side, grabbing her hand. "Mrs. Isolse, what happened?"

Her voice shook as she spoke, "My... my grandson. He's been in an accident."

Her heart rate monitor beeped frantically, matching the panic in her voice. I quickly adjusted the IV and took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "Mrs. Isolde I need you to take deep breaths. We need to keep you stable."

She nodded, but her breaths were shallow and quick. "Remi, please..Rowan…my grandson he is all I have left. I am sorry that I deceived you. I am sorry I didn't tell you that the man in the TV was my grandson. I am sorry I lied about my identity but please Remi, please help me."

"I promise, I'll do everything I can," I assured her, squeezing her hand. "Let me call the hospital and get more information."

I acted cool. I really tried to. 

But I wasn’t. The woman I had come to admire was my worse nightmare grand mother. 

The woman I cared for was the matriarch of the Vaughn family. 

My hand shook as I dialed the hospital, luckily, it was the one I worked for. 

I called the hospital, and my worst fears were confirmed. Rowan Vaughn had been in a severe car accident and was in critical condition. His injuries were extensive, and he needed immediate surgery.

"I'll go to the hospital right away," I told Mrs.Isolde trying to reassure her as much as myself.

She clung to my hand, her eyes pleading. "You have to save him, Remi. Please."

"I'll do my best," I promised, knowing that my best would have to be enough.

*****

I drove like mad. I didn't care that Mrs.Isolde had lied to me about her identity. She had her reasons. What worried me was the fact that I had prayed for Rowan's death. 

Because of him, I lost access to know if my cousin was alive or not. Because of him, I spent my years drinking and trying to find myself but couldn't.

Yet now his life was in my hands. 

Mrs.Isolde had asked and I needed my children to know their father. 

 The hospital corridors were alive with activity . A big shot was here. I was quickly briefed on Rowan 's condition: multiple fractures, internal bleeding, and severe head trauma that may lead to amnesia. 

Fuck. 

It was going to be a long, complicated surgery.

Dr. Thompson's eyes locked onto mine, “Remi, thank God you are here, we have a big shot on the case” he said, his voice low.  I met his gaze, my jaw clenched. With a swift motion, I slipped into my surgical gown and gloves, the latex snapping into place. 

“Let's move,”I said, striding towards the operating room.

"Alright, let's get started," I said, my voice steady and calm.

"Scalpel," my assistant replied, placing the instrument in my hand.

I made the initial incision, the sound of the blade slicing through tissue filling the room. "Clamp," I requested, my eyes fixed on the exposed area.

"BP's dropping," the anesthesiologist warned, her voice tight with concern.

"Get me a reading," I demanded, my focus unwavering.

"80 over 40," she replied, her voice laced with urgency.

"Dammit," Dr. Thompson muttered, his eyes darting to the monitors.

"Stay with me, people," I said, my voice firm but controlled. "Suction."

The suction device whirred to life, clearing the area of excess blood. I worked in silence, my mind racing with calculations and possibilities. I removed every thought, every fear, every distraction. 

"Artery's compromised," my assistant warned.

"Get me a graft, now," I ordered.

The minutes ticked by like hours, each second stretching into an eternity. My team worked in tandem, their movements choreographed to perfection.

"BP's stabilizing," the anesthesiologist announced, a hint of relief in her voice.

"Let's close," I said, my hands moving with precision.

The final stitches were placed, each one a testament to our collective skill and determination.

"It's done," I said, stepping back from the table, my eyes locked on the monitors.

"We did it," Dr. Thompson said, a smile spreading across his face.

I nodded, my eyes still fixed on the patient. "He's not out of the woods yet."

But for now, we'd won.

***

After hours that felt like days, we finally stabilized Rowan . He was alive, but still in critical condition. We had done everything we could; now, we had to wait.

I stepped out of the operating room, exhaustion washing over me. Gigi, rushed towards me, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

"Is he okay?" she demanded, her voice wavering.

"He's stable for now," I replied, trying to sound reassuring, “But you have to be prepared, the chances of him having amnesia  is up to 70%”