Chapter 1 : Allow Me To Help

*Dove*

“She is dying.”

Three words that had altered my brain chemistry for what would likely be the rest of my life. I had stood at the end of the bed of my unconscious mother as the doctor told me that she was most likely not going to make it.

For weeks I had been telling her to get checked. I had told her that she needed to be seen but she had told me she was fine. I should’ve pushed her further. I should’ve done—

“Okay, Miss Andrews,” the personal banker came back into the office with a file in her hand, interrupting my thoughts. “We have looked at your application but it seems we cannot in good conscience allow you to take out this loan.”

I blinked at her, my hand gripped the handle of the coffee mug they had given me tighter. My knuckles turned white, my heart clambering hard in my chest as the weight of her words settle over me.

“I’m sorry?” I had heard her but I just could not believe what she was telling me.

The lady cleared her throat, shifting in her leather chair uncomfortably. “I said that we will not be able to give you the loan. It’s too much and with your current salary it just doesn’t make sense.”

I blinked, the room overcome with a thick silence that pushed against my chest.

“But…my mother is dying.”

She pursed her lips into a thin line. “Yes, and we hate that this unfortunate situation has befallen you and your family but the surgery is far too high risk and there is a 30% survival rate.”

“If she doesn’t get the surgery then there is a 0% chance of survival. She needs this surgery and insurance will not cover it. You have to give me this loan,” I pressed, my voice raising slightly as panic begins to set in.

“The loan is for 750,000 dollars. That alone tells us how experimental and risky it is. Not to mention we have a 5% interest rate which I do not believe that you will be able to keep up with.” She was saying all these things like she wasn’t breaking my heart. “It says here that you are a journalist. Your annual salary alone is barely above the minimum. Not to mention you are behind on a few credit card payments. We cannot in good—”

“I heard what you said the first time.” The words came out far harsher than I had intended them to. I closed my eyes and took in a few calming breaths trying to keep my cool. “Look, my mother is dying. Meaning that she will die without this surgery. I do not have the cash in hand in order to pay for it out of pocket by myself. She is the only family I have that still loves me. I can’t lose her.”

The woman held my gaze, moving her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry, Miss Andrews. The decision has been made.”

Tears of frustration pricked my eyes as I stood up to leave. All the energy had been drained from my body and I wanted nothing more than to just curl up into a little ball and pretend like none of this was happening.

Leaving the building, I hugged my waist and walked down the sidewalk until my legs felt like jelly and I could no longer hold myself up. I pressed my back against the brick wall of the building and slid down feeling defeated.

I had no idea what I was going to do now. I had no money and there was no way in hell I was going to call my father. Not after all he had done to us—to her. Maybe that is your only option, the little voice inside of my head whispered to me.

“No.” I drew my knees to my chest and rested my forehead against them, trying to catch my breath. I had no idea how I was going to come up with ¾ of a million dollars to pay for this surgery. I was out of luck with the bank, and as the woman pointed out, I don’t make enough at my job to be able to cover that kind of cost.

When I worded it like that it made the number even seem more unattainable.

As kids we were taught that money was the root of all evilness and it couldn’t buy you happiness. But right now, in my current situation, money could solve all my issues.

“She will have about two months without the meds and with the surgery she would live, at best, four more months.”

That was what I had been told by her doctor. That was the time my mother had left on the earth. A countdown.

And none of this was any fault to her own. I blamed the very man who left her with a three-year-old and told her to support that baby after making her drop out of college and not work for six years of their marriage. She had worked herself to the bone while she raised me. She sliced up every single dollar and dime so she could give me a half decent life. The stress of it all had finally come crashing down on her.

My mother had told me not to hate my father because of what had transpired between the two of them but I couldn’t do it. My heart harbored so much resentment and over the years that resentment turned into a hatred that had taken root deep into my bones.

The last time I had seen that man was—

“Excuse me, miss?” a rough voice said from above me.

I lifted my head and saw a man dressed in a very nice shirt, his eyes bright. The first thing I noticed is that he was sitting in a wheelchair, staring down at me. He was in front of me with the sun’s rays looking like they were coming out of him, blocking them from view. He looked…angelic. And his face was also quite the sight to behold.

Thick brown hair and a chiseled jaw that looked sharp enough to cut. These striking blue eyes reminded me of the deep ocean, leaning more toward a midnight kind of blue. The color was so unique I had never seen it before.

The kindness radiated in his eyes as he stared down at me. “Are you okay?”

It took my brain a moment to gather all my thoughts together. “Um…yes. I’m just having a bit of a hard day. Well, more like a hard life. You see my mother is sick and I… Sorry, you don’t even know me. I should not be trying to unload all of my problems onto you.”

The ends of his lips tilted upward into a small smile. “My mother always used to say that a problem shared is a problem half solved. And it is always easier to tell a stranger your issues than someone you know.”

Maybe it was the fact that this man’s aura was so calming that it made me safe. Or maybe it was the fact that I just needed someone to hear me. Regardless of the true reason, I opened my mouth and let all of it fly out of my mouth.

The hurt.

The frustration.

The pain.

I told this stranger all my problems and by the end of it all my heart did feel a little lighter but I also felt slightly embarrassed when I moved my gaze to meet his, still sitting on the sidewalk as other strangers rushed by. The hustle and bustle of New York City won’t stop for anyone, not even me.

I had been anticipating a look of sympathy or horror but instead, the man’s face was neutral. There was no pity, no disgust, just a normal human being.

A moment of silence passed between us and I was about to get up and leave, feeling a little embarrassed and overly exposed, when his voice stopped me in my tracks.

“What if I told you I could help you?”

I stared at him, trying to gauge whether he was joking or not. But the serious look on his face and the way his eyes bore into mine told me he wasn’t.

“Unless you have ¾ of a million dollars in your back pocket then I doubt you can help me.”

“And what if I do?” He said the words so easily. There was no smile or smirk—he was being deadly serious.

There was no way this stranger, a kind samaritan that stopped to check if I was all right, had the kind of money that I need just lying around. It was impossible… right?

I narrowed my gaze at him. “I would say what’s the catch. No normal person would just give out that kind of money for free. There has to be a catch.”

He leaned back in his wheelchair, holding my gaze. “It’s nothing out of reason. And besides, I want to do this for you because your mom deserves to get better and you still need her in your life.”

“What’s the catch?” I pressed again.

He paused for a heartbeat, allowing me to hear my own rush in my ears as I waited with bated breath for his response.

“Marry me.”

My heart jumped in my throat as I stared at the kind man, unsure whether I heard him correctly or not.

“I’m sorry, what?”