CHAPTER THREEEric’s POV
CHAPTER THREE
Eric’s POV
I sit in my office, going through some office files. Half of my staff have been sacked and have been replaced due to fraudulent activities.
There’s a knock on my door and it opens immediately. It’s Lydia, who has now been my personal assistant for a week. Max suggested her, giving praises of her competence and diligence.
She walks in wearing a pencil skirt and a pair of stilettos. Her brunette hair is packed in a tight ponytail, and she feigns a smile. She isn’t pleased with me. There's something about that smile that tugs at my memory though.
I think back to the pretty brunette from the past, the one who so ensnared me, that it was only the thought of her, aside from my desire to be proven innocent, that preserved my sanity over the course of my imprisonment.
I think back to the fullness of her lips, to the way they stretched wide on a smile. The soft contours of her gorgeous face and how her eyes twinkled with amusement every time she laughed.
There was a bit of a resemblance between these two women, but where one was soft and pliant, the other was made of all the hardest stuff.
“Do you need anything, Mr. Greene?” she asks in a robotic voice, snapping me out of my reverie.
“Coffee will do,” I tell her in an equally cold tone. “Don’t forget, I drink it black with zero cream and sugar.”
She nods as she takes note of what I tell her. She walks out gracefully with a pitcher in her hand.
I sit for a second to reflect on what to do next when Max calls. I reach for my phone and slide the call button. “Hey, Max,” I say casually. Max, an old friend who I consider a brother, has been my confidant since I started making decisions.
“Did you get him?” he asks in his normal cheery voice. There is loud music in the background, but Max loves his music loud.
“Get who? Oh…” I say, realization dawning. “I called him, and he has started his investigation. I hope he is as good as you suggest.”
“I suggest the best.” Max brags.
I chuckle. “Yes, I see that with Lydia. She is very resourceful. Only, she’s spiteful towards me.”
Knowing Max, I imagine his brows scrunching together in confusion. “That’s not the Lydia I know. She is always delightful. She gets the job done, right?”
“Yes, she does, but there is something about her that I can’t quite place.”
“Maybe it’s your imagination. I trust her. Like I said, she worked for me for so long.” He pauses, then whispers, “and she is really hot.”
I think back to the collision in the hallway and my gut tightens further. There definitely is something about her, but I doubt I'd be finding out what it is today.
I roll my eyes. “No, thank you. If you are so invested in her beauty, why didn’t you date her or something?”
Max chuckles. “I’m happily married to the best wife; you’re a bachelor, and I think you should start to reconsider dating. You’re getting old.”
I recline into my chair. “Is this what this is really about? Setting me up with a beautiful girl to get me to fall for her? Not happening.”
“Chill, bro,” Max laughs. “Just do whatever you want to do.”
I exhale. “Yeah. Anyway, I have a meeting to attend downtown, so I’ll soon be leaving. I guess we will talk later.”
“Sure. Don’t forget to keep me posted on the investigation.”
I say my final goodbye and end the call. Lydia walks in with a mug and a tray underneath it. “Your coffee, sir.”
She sounds so mechanical and I’m bothered to want to ask why, but that would have to wait because I have to leave now. I strike an event off my calendar and check my wristwatch.
“Cancel all my meetings; I have to be somewhere now.” I don’t even get to drink the coffee. I grab my briefcase and scurry down the hallway into the elevator. My chauffeur is outside, waiting for me.
My mind trails back to Max's words about Lydia, and I feel conflicted about whether or not I can agree. Whenever my eyes settle on her, it transports me back to a time and a woman that I cannot get back. A carefree time filled with happiness; far away from the present reality.
I get into the car and he speeds off. I have a meeting at the 777 Towers which is quite a distance from my office. So, my driver is doubling the speed because I hate being late. Speeding through city streets is not exactly something I would do, however.
He swerves through another corner…It comes as a shock because we don’t see it coming. A young boy - not much older than 8 - pedals around the curve on a bicycle. He doesn’t seem to see us coming, and rides straight into our path.
My chauffeur goes hard for the brake to decelerate, but can’t manage to come to a complete stop. I ram both feet into the car’s floor as if I could help brake the car completely. I stare in horror as the car is about to ram into the boy’s bike.
At the last second, the boy manages to swerve the bike and the car rams the back of the bike instead of hitting him square on the body. The boy gets thrown from the bike.
The car screeches and stops. I hurriedly alight from the car and spring for the boy. Fortunately, he is wearing a helmet. He lies on the asphalt almost unconscious. I take out my phone immediately and dial 911.
It takes the paramedics five minutes to get here, and with every passing second, I fear that the boy will lose his life. I keep checking the time as if it would go any faster, and listening to his faint breath.
Something about this little boy tugs at me. From the fullness of his babyish cheeks to the way his dark hair falls over his face in a thick sweep. He looks really familiar, but I have to be hallucinating to even think up the thoughts that are starting to swirl around in my head.
He looks like me, a younger version of me. The carefree version that had so much hope and so many dreams…I don't know what to make of this. Does this child really look that much like me or am I wistfully watching him as I recall all that I have lost?
The ambulance finally pulls up and their team rush to examine the boy. They mount him on the stretcher as I pace around anxiously. I turn to the Emergency Medical Technician, clad in a blue uniform, who gives me a soft smile.
“Is he going to be okay?” I ask, agitated.
She smiles. “We hope so.”
I join them at the back of the ambulance and tell my chauffeur to drive home after he gives his statement to the police. All through the ride to the hospital, my mind can’t find peace. It doesn’t just end with the boy, but with the fact that I may have another run-in with the law, and this time, it will be for something I may be involved in.
We get to the hospital, and he is admitted through the emergency unit. The doctors hover around him, checking for broken bones. Someone calls out to get his x-rays taken.
I’m pacing around outside the room. I check the time. I just missed this meeting downtown, which is worth millions of dollars. But I don’t really care.
I wait till I see a doctor, then I rush to him. “Dr. Baxter,” I read off his name tag, “is he going to be okay?”
He pauses, and then smiles. “Yes. Luckily for him, he was wearing a helmet, so his head wasn’t damaged in the fall. There is no dislocation of any sort, only fractures. A sling will be just fine. We’ll keep him here, but just for a few days. Other than that, he is okay.”
I exhale, releasing all the air choked up in my lungs. I rake my hands through my hair. “Were you able to contact his parents?”
“Yes, his mother. She’ll be here anytime soon.”
“Mr. Greene,” I hear a woman say from behind me. I know that voice.
Shit.