The Bargain

Six years Later

I adjusted the drip for Mrs. Isolde, who let out a soft cough. She was a frail but sharp woman in her eighties, her onyx eyes still bright as she stared at me. Her crowfoot clenching together with her warm smile. I had grown fond of her over the past few months that I started working as her personal doctor.

"There you go, Mrs. Isolde," I said, smoothing the blanket over her legs on the wheelchair.

"Thank you, dear," she replied, her voice raspy but affectionate. "You're such a blessing to have around."

A smile spread across my face. Balancing my career as a surgeon and raising my twins, Larry and Sally, was no small feat, but moments like this made it all worthwhile. "It's my pleasure. You remind me of my own grandmother."

Mrs. Isolde chuckled softly. "You're too kind, Isolde. Always so kind."

As I tidied up her bedside table, the television in the corner of the room caught my attention. A news anchor's voice filled the room, announcing the day's headlines.

"...and in business news, multi-billionaire Rowan Vaughn has just announced his engagement to childhood sweetheart and renowned philanthropist, Gigi Raphael."

My hand hovered, the glass of water suspended halfway to Mrs. Isolde.

My gaze snapped to the screen, my lungs locking in a silent gasp. The words 'Rowan Vaughn' flashed on the display, and my heart stumbled.

The camera zoomed in on a face that made my mind stutter - chiseled features, sharp jawline, and eyes that seemed to bore into my soul. A shiver danced down my spine as our gazes met, albeit through the screen. My throat constricted, the air thickening like a physical presence. The glass of water trembled in my hand, a tiny ripple disturbing its surface, as my mind slowly remembered those same eyes that looked at me with such lust.

And hatred.

And the woman who he had loved rather than me.

I shouldn't be hurt. I shouldn't care less, it's been six years. Yet my heart, just couldn't take it.

"Rowan Vaughn," Mrs. Isolde murmured, her eyes narrowing as she peered at the screen. "Isn't he quite the handsome one?"

I nodded absently, but I failed to look at her so she wouldn't see the tears that filled my eyes.

My gaze shifted to the necklace around his neck in the photo, a simple chain with a pendant bearing the initials "R.V." My heart pounded as I remembered the ring. Our wedding ring also had his initials.

Gosh Remi, don't do this to yourself. Look away. Act like he doesn't exist.

But he does exist and it hurts more than anything to know the man you loved, crushed on, got married to destroyed your life.

Mentally and physically.

"Remi dear, are you alright?" Mrs. Victoria's voice broke through my thoughts, and I realized I was still holding the glass of water.

"I'm fine," I replied, dropping the glass off water. "Just a bit of a shock, that's all."

She looked at me with concern, her hand reaching out to cover mine. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Before I could respond, the sound of tiny footsteps echoed down the hallway. Larry and Sally burst into the room, their faces flushed with excitement. "Mommy! Mommy! Look what we found!"

They held up a bouquet of wildflowers, their eyes shining with pride. "Aren't they pretty, Mrs. Isolde?" Sally asked, her voice filled with childlike wonder.

Mrs.Isolde's eyes softened as she took in the sight of the twins. "They're beautiful, my love. Thank you."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. "Why don't you put them in the vase over there?" I suggested, pointing to the dresser by the window.

As they scampered off to arrange the flowers, I turned back to the television. The news had shifted to another topic, but the image of Rowan was imprinted into my mind.

When I look at my children I see his face. When Larry stagger sometimes or his cold matured attitude, I knew he got it from his father. Everything about them reminded me of him.

Mrs. Isolde noticed my distraction and she shifted her wheelchair closer. "Remi, you look troubled. Is there something you want to talk about?"

I hesitated, not wanting to burden her with my worries. "It's just... that man on TV. He looked familiar."

She tilted her head, her eyes searching mine. "Do you know him?"

I bit my lip, unsure how much to reveal. "I think he might be... someone from my past. Someone important. Maybe they just look alike. That's all"

The elderly woman nodded thoughtfully, her grip on my hand tightening. "Sometimes, the past has a way of catching up with us when we least expect it."

Before I could respond, a loud crash came from the corner of the room. I turned to see the vase of flowers tipped over, water and petals spilling across the floor. Sally and Larry stood frozen, their faces was that of guilt.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," Larry said, his voice trembling. "We didn't mean to."

I hurried over, my heart aching at the sight of their distress. "It's alright, sweetheart. Accidents happen."

As I knelt to clean up the mess, I caught a glimpse of Mrs. Isolde watching us, her eyes filled with sadness and something else—curiosity, perhaps? She looked from me to the twins and back again, her expression pensive.

"Remi," she said softly, once the vase was upright again, "those children of yours... they have a striking resemblance to that man on TV."

I froze, my fingers stilling on a damp cloth. "I noticed that too," I admitted.

Mrs. Isolde's eyes bore into mine, her gaze unwavering. "Do you think it's a coincidence?"

I shook my head, tears threatening to spill. “Yeah…it is." I turned my eyes away, not wanting her to see my tears.

Before we could go further, Mrs. Isolde's hand jerked towards the phone which started to ring, her eyes fixed on the screen as if willing it to silence. She lifted it to her ear, her expression serene. But as she listened, her face crumpled, like paper crushed by an unseen hand. Her eyes glazed, their warmth extinguished, leaving only a vacant stare. The phone slid from her fingers, hitting the floor with a metallic clang. Her gaze drifted towards me, her pupils dilating as if searching for an escape. Terror seeped into her eyes, like ink bleeding into paper, and her mouth parted, but no sound emerged.

Except one word.

"Help.”

My heart leaped out of my chest as I rushed to her side, grabbing her hand. "Mrs. Isolde, 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%”