We delved into the conversation, and by the looks of it, she found out about her illness six months too late when she did a Plasma thermogram and an HPV test.
“And you were transferred here, correct?”
She nodded, her full head of hair bouncing. “That’s correct.”
The signs of cervical cancer were clear, and that reminded me of my mother and all the sorrow that came with it.
“Are you here alone?”
“I am,” she sorrowfully admitted. “I haven’t told my daughter yet.”
“Why not?” I pried.
“I’m all she has. I don’t know how to tell her her mother is dying.”
There it was. The single sentence that caused a single tear to slip down my cheek. The love of a mother for their child knew no bounds, and I didn’t know much now, but all I knew was I’d do everything to help her.
I cleared my throat and began speaking, “I’m going to have you do a full blood count test as well as some diagnostic imagery to make sure what I have here is up to date with what’s going on in your body.”
“Thank you, do—” Her phone rang, and she answered it, and before I could step out, I heard a name: Azzaria, and then my mind went to Dillon.
Shit.
There was no fucking way.
His girlfriend’s mother had cancer?
She ended the call, apologized, and we resumed our conversation. I kept stumbling over my words, stunned. She felt familiar, and I realized why. She was an exact carbon copy of Azzaria.
“As it relates to the payment metho—”
“I won’t waste your time here, Doc,” she started, “My jobs can barely hold up the cost for treatment. My health c—”
“Ms. Leann, do not worry about that. Once your results are back, I will have you started on treatment immediately, one that isn’t too harsh on your body.”
She stared at me in amazement, as if she was stunned by my reaction. “I can’t possib—”
“My parents and sister died from cancer. My grandparents died from failed kidneys. I witnessed firsthand the agony my mother endured, discovering too late that it had already ravaged her body. You are someone’s mother, Ms. Leann, and believe me, nothing prepares a child for the loss of their parent. So, yes, I will do everything in my power to ensure you receive the treatment you need, to give you a chance to live a little longer.”
Her eyes filled with emotion, breaking my heart. I vowed to ensure they got the help they needed, knowing I had the money and assets to make it a reality.
“I cannot begin to thank you enough,” she expressed.
I handed her the referral X-ray and blood work form, and then informed Rachel to have the lab technicians prepare for her arrival in ten minutes.
“Do me a favor, Ms. Leann?”
She looked up at me, her eyes filled with uncertainty.
“Fight,” I urged, my voice breaking. “Fight as hard as you can, for as long as you can, and I promise I’ll take care of the rest.”
To my surprise, she stood up, eyes shining with hope, and hugged me gently yet desperately, her frail body trembling against mine. It reminded me of my mother’s embraces. Though my mind and soul were heavy after the visit, I had to press on. I would tell Dillon once the test results were in, but auditors would likely criticize the patient payments, a rule I found pointless.
Afterward, I oversaw my interns, checking vital signs and preparing three patients for chemotherapy. Once everything was in order, I headed to my office at Romano Enterprises on Central Avenue for a critical meeting with my team.
The building was a striking mix of antique elegance and modern sophistication, its ornate facade softened by sleek contemporary accents. Romano Enterprises was the center of everything I’d built: medical practices, luxury real estate around the world, high-end restaurants and bars, boutique hotels, and stakes in publicly traded companies. My investments stretched across the stock market, emerging tech startups, and profitable franchises.
Upon arriving at my office, I was immediately surrounded by paparazzi, their cameras flashing.
