Chapter 2: The lousy News
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO
Precious and Cynthia had been best of friends since childhood. They had both come from low-income families, and that alone made them stick with each other since they were kids up to the moment they turned twenty-five.
They had done everything together. They would sometimes have sleepovers and talk about their dreams and aspirations, the boys they were crushing on, and everything they would buy if they had the money.
A single mother raised precious, and although they didn't have much, they were happy. But Precious had always been curious about who her father was and why her mother refused to talk about him.
That was something she'd had in common with Cynthia. But in Cynthia's case, it was much more different since both her parents had died when she was a child. She was raised by her uncle, who was abusive, and getting away from him had always been something Cynthia wanted to do if she got the slightest opportunity.
And one day, she got the opportunity.
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PRESENT
Cynthia Walker opened her eyes to see Dr. Hernandez smiling warmly at her. Davis Hernandez was the chief surgeon at St. Gregory Hospital, and over the years, Cynthia—as the CEO—had worked for hand in hand with him. It was easy to say that they were even friends.
"Cynthia," he moved closer to her bed, "how are you feeling today?"
"I would be feeling better if I was out of here." She didn't mean to sound rude, but she was fed up. She had been in the hospital for the past three months, and throughout that time, she hadn't done anything productive. She'd just been there like a sack of potatoes.
On top of that, she had aged drastically, and she was feeling weaker by the day.
Dr. Hernandez smiled like all was well. "Cynthia, the surgery you need is a very complicated one. It's an open-heart surgery—"
"And you told me you'd find a surgeon," Cynthia cut him off.
Dr. Hernandez exhaled and gave her a sorry look. "I will find a surgeon. We need the right one. The best surgeon would increase your chances of survival, trust me."
Cynthia manages to roll her eyes playfully. "I do trust. That's why I'm still lying here. If not, I would've left this place a long time ago."
"Not in your condition," Hernandez said.
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Petra had been asking about her fiancé ever since she'd woken up. They'd called in her mother, who was so happy to see Petra finally awake. But for some reason, the woman had been avoiding questions concerning Thomas.
Lewis had come up with different excuses to go into Petra's room to see her awake, but Petra didn't take note of this because she was too lost in thought thinking about her fiance and why he wasn't by her side. She couldn't believe she'd spent three months half-dead on a hospital bed.
She also couldn't help thinking of how she'd been pushed off that roof.
"Petra, dear, you need to eat; come on." Her mom held up the spoonful of soup, but Petra stared into nothingness instead.
"I'm not hungry. I need to see Tom," Petra turned to her mother, "Why hasn't he come to see me? Did you tell him I'm awake now?"
"I told you he's not reachable. I don't—"
"Mom, there's something you're not telling me. What's happening? Where's Thomas?"
"Darling, calm down. You need to rest."
"That's what you've been saying for days, mom. This is not fair." Petra was tired of asking her mom about Thomas since she didn't want to say anything about him. She couldn't understand why, though. Her mom had always liked Thomas.
Maybe something had happened to him, she thought. Was Thomas dead?
Petra couldn't even voice out that thought. She didn't want to think that the reason why her mom had been avoiding talks about Thomas might be because he had died. Tears clouded Petra's vision at that thought, but her mom didn't notice.
"Dear, I'll be right back; I need to go get something." Her mom left the room, and Lewis took that as an opportunity to go in, pretending like he was checking her IV drip.
"Are you okay?" Lewis asked on seeing the tears that were slowly rolling down Petra's cheeks. She immediately wiped it away, but he'd already seen it, and it broke her heart. He knew it must've been about her fiancé, and he just wished she would forget about the dude and move on.
"Can I use your phone?" Petra asked Lewis before he had the chance to say anything else. If Thomas was dead or something, she needed to know. "Please?" Petra added when Lewis was looking hesitant. She looked at him like he was the only hope she had, and Lewis couldn't say no to her.
"Thank you," she said as she collected Lewis's phone, and their fingers brushed against each other.
She typed in 'Thomas Wayne' in the search engine for any latest news. When the page had come up, it didn't take long for Petra to get answers, and she immediately regretted it.
Lewis rushed to her side after she broke down in tears and was shaking and balling her eyes out.
"Hey, hey, calm down." He held on to her shoulders as she buried her face in her hands and continued sobbing.
"How could he do this to me? I thought he loved me! Why didn't he wait for me to wake up?! And why her of all people?!" Petra washed angrily, lashing out at Thomas, who wasn't even there, and Lewis was worried about her blood pressure.
He took the phone to see what she was talking about and the first thing he saw was a picture of her fiancé taken with another woman.
THOMAS WAYNE ENGAGED TO MEGAN SMITH. The caption read.
Lewis couldn't believe it. Now he had every reason to hate Thomas's guts. How could he have done that, Petra? While she was in a coma, for crying out loud!
Lewis had to admit, and it didn't sound like the man who had been worried sick after Petra was initially brought in that day. Couldn't he have waited for her to wake up from her coma? Or maybe he didn't think she would ever wake up. Either way, Petra had just woken from a three-month-long coma to find out that the love of her life was getting married to another woman. Lewis couldn't imagine how heartbroken she must've been feeling.
Without thinking twice about it, Lewis took a seat on the edge of the bed and tried to calm her down with words, but there was only so much she could do.
"Mom, why didn't you just tell me?" Petra asked her mother when she returned. She was still trying to stop herself from crying anymore. Lewis had left to give them space.
Her mom motioned to her. "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you yet. You're already working yourself up about this when you should be recuperating."
"Why wouldn't I work myself up about it? He left me for the psycho that pushed me off a roof!"
"What?" Petra's mom is shocked to hear this. "Are you serious?"
Petra only cried more and broke down in sobs.
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The following day, news of the president's deteriorating health hits the country after being admitted to St. Gregory Hospital, and they diagnosed him with kidney failure.
The entire 29th floor is cleared out for Mr. President, and he is given maximum attention while the board of surgeons meets. The press camp outside the hospital, waiting for any new information on how the US President is doing and how the hospital plans to carry out the surgery.
Handling the president was a huge deal, and Dr. Hernandez knew that messing it up wasn't an option. The surgery had to be a hundred percent successful and nothing less.
"This is the president of the United States we're talking about here," Dr. Hernandez said to the other surgeons during the meeting, "we can't just put anyone on the job. And mind you, any of you who would be operating on the president will be put under many scrutinies. There will be paperwork done, and the White House would have to do a background check and everything on them before they get approved. Let's not even talk about addressing the press."
The doctors converse and whisper amongst themselves. It seemed no one wanted such a huge responsibility on their shoulder. The president was too important of a person to operate on. In the midst of all this, Dr. Clark Valentine stands to his feet.
"I'll do it," he volunteers, and the others look a little surprised but relieved someone has volunteered.
"Are you sure?" Dr. Hernandez asked. He knew exactly what it meant. If Clark performed the operation and were successful, he would instantly become more than qualified for the chief surgeon position—Hernandez's job.
Clark smiles confidently. "Yes, I'm sure."
Dr. Hernandez is about to speak when his phone starts ringing. Everyone watches as he takes the call, and they wait for about five minutes before they see that the call is over.
"That was the White House chief of staff," he told them. "They just called to inform me that they want Dr. Matthew Kings to operate on the president."
All heads turn to Matt, who is seated quietly in the corner. He swallows under all the stares and adjusts his glasses.
"Well, that's it then. The White House has made their decision, so... meeting adjourned." Dr. Hernandez stands to his feet, and others do the same, whispering and murmuring. "Dr. Kings, let's have a word."
"I honestly can't believe this," Clark tells Mitchell as they walk out of the meeting room. "We can't let Kings perform that operation. They're already calling him one of the best surgeons in the country, and now this?"
"I think that's precisely why the White House chose him. And you know there's nothing we can do about it now. At this rate, he might just become CEO," Mitchell replied, feeling bitter about the whole situation.
"Not on my watch," said Clark.
"And what do you plan to do about it?" Mitchell asked.
Clark paused seemed to be in thought for a while before smiling.
"What if the president dies while Matt is operating on him?"
Mitchell scoffs. "What exactly are you saying?" she whispered.
Clark smirks. "We're going to make it look like Matt killed the president of the United States, darling."