My heart is thudding like a Congo drum in my chest, while my eyes are still glued to the spot where Alexander stood mere moments ago. Looking sexy as hell in his three-piece suit and every bit the fantasy of every woman known to man.
Sam places his hand on the small of my back to usher me inside. But my heart wishes to follow in the direction Alexander has just gone.
Even after months of his continued silence and indifference.
"Why was he here?" I turn my accusatory gaze to my mom. "What are you up to?"
"I have a feeling I know what it is." Sam surprises me by saying.
Frowning, I turn to face him, and he sighs.
"I'm all ears."
"King Technologies is going under." He informs me. "The Kings had their eyes on Bishop Riggs, but when he agreed to work with you instead... their latest project was left without a much-needed puzzle piece. It had to be shelved."
There's a spark in his eyes when he speaks of the Kings' demise. Like the prospect of them losing it all excites him.
"The Kings are your direct competition, are they not?" I ask.
"Yes. And it's about time they finally get what they deserve."
Curious, I ask him, "And how much of that was orchestrated by you?"
Sam's smile fades and he regards me with cautious eyes.
"Are you asking me if I secretly hope for the King's demise?" He asks. Holding my gaze for a moment before nodding. "Yes... absolutely. But all I did was make the introduction. You and Bishop did the rest. Also, I won't apologize or lose any sleep over helping you beat him to the punch. He's an asshole."
Having been involved in a few corporate takeovers myself, I know just how nasty these things can get and how enemies can be made. So, I don't fault Sam for not liking Alexander. No one ever likes the one who wears the crown, because they despise how they got there. But at the same time, he doesn't know Alexander like I do.
The tortured soul who trusts no one because he can't afford to.
The dark heart who craves to belong to something bigger than himself, but is too afraid to admit that he's lonely in that tower he built for himself.
Turning to my mother, I tell her, "Whatever you're up to... mom... don't."
"You should be focused on Mr. Tisdale, chile... not me."
Except, I know when my mother is up to something. And whatever it is... Alexander has something to do with it. Only, I'm not sure if he's a willing participant or a pawn.
"You look vexed." Sam studies me closely. "Please tell me Alexander King has nothing to do with it."
"Did you know he would be here?" I ask.
"Why? Does his presence here bother you that much?"
Yes.
His tone sounds accusatory, and the look he's giving me is even worse. He's questioning me like he doesn't trust me. Which is a big issue for him.
Sam has been hurt many times in business. And even though I'm not like any of his previous business companions, my relationship with Alexander constantly comes up in conversations that lead to an argument between us. Add the fact that I refuse to sleep with Sam, and it leads to a very frustrated man who's used to getting what he wants.
But he can't have me.
Ignoring him, I join my siblings in the living room where Elijah and his half-sisters are playing on a Nintendo switch. Mary and Jackson are nestled on one end of my mother's grey sofa, and for once, seeing the two of them together doesn't bother me.
"Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you." Sam catches up to me.
"Can we please not do this?" I ask. Exhausted. "I just want to enjoy my time with my family."
Sam stares at me like a wounded puppy before nodding and leaving me alone at my mother's gathering to face these vultures I call relatives on my own. Then he calls me to argue and ruin my night. So, I send him to voicemail. Temporarily blocking him until I gather the energy for the guilt-trip I know is coming my way.
"No wonder you can't keep a man." Mary scoffs. Shaking her head.
"He's not my man. I'm still married. I just need his help with a business deal." I correct her. "Besides, I didn't know you cared so much."
I don't have the energy to argue with her either.
"I don't."
"Good. Then worry about your own life and stay out of mine."
Mary mumbles something about me not having a marriage to worry about for much longer, and my heart leaps out of my chest wondering if that's why Alexander was here.
Is he planning to divorce me?
Does he still blame me for what went down between us?
For not being woman enough to carry our son to term?
I miss him.
It took some time, but I've finally gotten to a place where seeing him doesn't hurt as much. But I'd be lying if I said I was over him.
Some days are better than others, but days like today... I miss his smile and the way his eyes light up like a Christmas tree when he does. The way he looks at me when he's turned on and wants to rip my clothes off. And the way he showers me in a thousand Eskimo kisses.
"You've got that look in your eyes again." Karen nudges me with her shoulder.
"What look?" I frown.
"The I want to fuck something devastatingly handsome, tall, and British, look."
Narrowing my eyes at her, I shake my head. Both for her choice in words and for accurately knowing my thought process.
"He doesn't want me." I remind her.
"Are you sure? Because the look on his face when he saw you walk in with Sam said otherwise."
It did?
"Tell me something... why would a man who claims he wants nothing to do with me stay in touch with my mother."
"Good question." Karen aims her gaze at my mom. "Want me to find out?"
"You know I do." I reply. Making sure Mary and Jackson aren't eavesdropping on our conversation.
"Give me like... ten minutes, and you'll have your answer." A mischievous smile forms on her face as she waggles her brow at me.
I can't help but laugh as she disappears from the room. Leaving me alone with Mary and Jackson who turn up the PDA because they know I'm watching. But rather than get angry or upset, I pity them.
They focus more on me than they do each other.
So consumed with what I'm doing in life that they forget to live their own.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I look down at the caller ID. Stunned when I see Alexanders name.
I'm so caught off guard that I almost drop my phone as I rush to take the call outside. Not wanting anyone to overhear our conversation. Only, the voice on the other end of the line isn't Alexanders. It's Benji's.
"Ms. Graham." He greets me.
"Benji."
"It's a pleasure to hear your voice again, madame."
"Yours too." I reply. Wondering where this is going. "But... why are you calling me?"
"I was asked to by Alexander." He tells me.
"Tell that coward he can either call me himself, or don't call me at all."
"You misunderstand, madame. He would have called you but he's on his way to the hospital."
My heart lodges in my chest, wondering if he's okay, and what could have happened to him.
"Is he alright? Is he hurt?" I ask.
"No, madame... it's his father. He collapsed this afternoon and was rushed to the hospital."
Oh no.
"Which hospital?"
"Yours." He answers.
"I'll be right there." I tell him.
Grabbing my purse and my keys, I make my way back to Jackson to ask him to take care of Elijah until I get back. And after some harsh words, he agrees.
"I'll call you when I'm done, okay." I hug and kiss Elijah goodbye. Rushing out to my car to head for the hospital.
On the way, I call Professor Rollins who tells me he believes Abraham's cancer has come back, based on his symptoms.
And his prognosis isn't good.
It takes fifteen minutes of speeding with reckless abandonment to get to the hospital, into my scrubs and lab coat, and then in to examine Abraham. And the Professor is right... it doesn't look good.
But he can't die on my watch. Not with Alexander being so angry with me and things being so messed up between us. He'll blame me for his father's death like he's blamed me for everything else.
"Please save him." Alexander pleads. His first words to me in months.
And the desperation in his eyes pulls at my heart strings.
"I will do everything I can." I assure him. Our casual conversation feeling foreign and yet like no time has passed between us at all.
Nodding, Alexander backs out of my way to allow me to run some tests on his dad. All of them come back normal except for his PSA test, which contains extremely high levels of prostate specific antigens in his blood.
"What is it?" Alexander asks. Noticing the look on my face.
"He'll need a prostate biopsy." I tell him.
"Why? What's wrong with his prostate?"
There's no easy way to tell him this, so I just say it... "I don't think his cancer has returned... I believe he has a new advanced stage of prostate cancer."
Alexander staggers backward like I've just harpooned him in the chest. But it's what his mother says next that captures his attention.
"There's no need." Mrs. King shakes her head. "He was diagnosed with stage four prostate cancer four months ago."
Alexander's head whips in his mother's direction. His eyes narrowing on her like one would eyeball a suspect in an interrogation room. "Why am I hearing of it only now? Why haven't you told me sooner?" He interrogates her.
"Because he knew you would try to save him, and he's tired Alex. He's tired of fighting it. So, if it's his time... it's his time."
"No." Alexander shakes his head as if he can shake the bad news away. Then he turns to me and demands, "Save him. Whatever it takes."
Nodding, I rattle off instructions to my team and we start the biopsy. Sending Alexander and his mom into the waiting room.
Three hours pass with my team and I doing everything we can to save his father. But as I examine his prostate, I'm devastated by how advanced his cancer truly is. Mostly, I'm devastated to have to be the bearer of bad news. To have to tell Alexander that there is no way to save his father this time.
His best friend and mentor.
Because while I believe Mrs. King was given time to come to terms with Mr. King's inevitable death, I don't believe Alexander was given that same luxury. And I fear losing his father will destroy him.
They've always been extremely close.
Thick as thieves, even.
And much of what Alexander does and who he is comes from his father.
His hero.
We close Mr. King back up and give him some morphine to ease his pain. Then we call Alexander and his family back into the room where I must deliver the bad news.
"I'm afraid he doesn't have much time left on this earth." I sigh. "You should call your family and have them come say their goodbyes."
"No." Alexander refuses. Shaking his head. "Try again."
"I can try a million times, but it won't change the outcome, Alexander. He's terminal."
Scrubbing his face with his hands, he reaches up to grip the back of his head. Exhaling a deep breath, and then bracing himself with his hands on his knees. Clenching his eyes shut several times before returning to his father's bedside with tear-filled eyes.
"Don't worry dad. I won't give up on you." Alexander promises. "I'll get another doctor to examine you until we find one who will-"
The machines in the room all go crazy at once and Alexander stands frozen in place. He's quickly shoved out of the way as his father begins to code, so we can save his father's life. Only, he's barely clinging to life. And even though we're able to stabilize him, he's unable to breathe on his own and we have to intubate him.
Alexander stands outside his father's hospital room for hours while we work to keep him alive.
But hours turn into days, and days turn into weeks of him steady declining. With Alexander's mother and sister begging him to let Abraham go.
He refuses at first. Clinging to his father like one would cling to life until his father codes a second time and we must intervene a second time.
"Let him go, Zandy." His mother pleads through tear-soaked eyes. "Hasn't he suffered enough? He wouldn't want to live like this. Not like this."
Alexander looks at his father then. Guilt slamming into him that his father is suffering because he doesn't want to let him go.
"Zandy... please." Ailene's pain-filled sobs beg him.
Alexander's chin drops to his chest, his eyes close, and a single tear falls from his eyes before he quickly wipes it away. Then, in an act of selfless mercy, he leans his forehead against his fathers, whispers something to him, kisses him on the forehead and tells him, "If it's too painful for you... let go. I'll be fine. And I'll take care of everyone for you."
No sooner does the words leave his mouth, does his father take his last breath. The piercing screech from his vitals machine, signaling his flatlining pulse. Interrupting the sadness sweeping through the room until the screeching is the only sound left.
"Time of death... four-fifty-two PM." I call it.