Chapter Twenty-Seven
Maron
I pull up in front of St. Mary’s Hospital.
The parking lot is eerily empty, but through the glass doors, I can see the lights coming from the reception area. I exit my Escalade and straighten my jacket before striding inside the building.
The receptionist glances up at me with a professional smile. "Good afternoon, sir. How can I help?"
I lower my voice. "I’m here to see a patient, Sharon Williams. She’s in the pediatric unit."
He looks down, then types something into the computer. "Of course, sir. May I have your name?"
I lean in closer to make sure nobody hears me. "Maron Korolev."
The receptionist frowns, and continues typing. He then shakes his head. "I apologize, sir, but your name is not on the approved visitor list for Sharon Williams. Are you a relative?"
"Sort of," I answer.
The guy raises an eyebrow. "Pardon me?"
I clear my throat. "I’m not a family member, but I still want to see her."
"I understand, sir. Since your name is not on the list, I’m afraid I’m unable to grant access."
"I don’t think you understand. I don’t need permission." I scan the room and pull out a hundred bucks from my wallet, placing it on the counter. "Maybe this will change your mind."
He looks around and slides the money under the guestbook. Then he sighs, and picks up the phone from the desk. "Paging Dr. Zanadan to reception…"
What the fuck is this guy doing? I’m practically burning holes through his skull with my glare. Who the fuck does this pencil-pusher think he is? My fists clench and unclench and I can feel my rage bubbling beneath the surface. I’m an inch away from vaulting over the counter and showing this prick what real fear looks like.
But then Sharon’s face flashes in my mind. This isn’t about my inflated ego or my pride. It’s about her. So, I plant myself in the waiting room, my leg bouncing with pent-up energy.
Minutes later, Dr. Zanadan sweeps in like he owns the place, all crisp scrubs and calculated authority. The receptionist babbles something at him, his eyes darting to me like I’m a ticking bomb. Zanadan silences him with a hand gesture, then turns to face me.
"How can I assist you, sir?" His voice is steady, but I catch the slight twitch in his eye. Good. He should be nervous.
I stand up purposely, towering over him. "I’m here to settle a patient’s medical bills. Sharon Williams. She’s in the pediatric unit."
"Oh…" He stares at me with surprise. "I understand now, sir. Let me…"
I move in close, catching a whiff of disinfectant on his skin. "All I ask in return is to see her."
Something flickers across Zanadan’s face, but he quickly recovers. Smart man. He nods, crisp and professional. "I understand, sir. Will you follow me to my office, please?"
For fuck’s sake!
I always hated bureaucracy, and these morons are making me hate it even more. But I keep my mouth shut and quietly follow him.
I take a seat in Dr. Zanadan’s office and watch him as he pulls up Sharon’s file. "Sharon Williams, emergency appendectomy. Her insurance covers fifty-three percent, which doesn’t include the hospital stay-"
"Cut the bullshit, doc," I snap. "Give me the number."
He blinks, then answers, "That would be four-thousand eight-hundred and seventy-two dollars, sir. That covers everything. All expenses for the operation and hospital stay."
"Right. Give me the bank details."
"Certainly, sir." He types something on the computer and turns the screen to me. "There you are, sir."
I pull out my phone and transfer the money before he can even finish speaking. "Done."
He blinks at me. "Um… thank you, sir. Now, I’m going to need your details. I need to inform the patient’s mother that…"
I fix him with a glare. "No. This is off the record."
"I understand, sir, but for documentation purposes…"
I’m really on the verge of losing my patience. My hand snaps out and I grip his shoulder. His eyes widen. "I said it’s off the record. Now, if we’re finished here, I would like to see Sharon." I punctuate every word, not taking my eyes off him.
Poor bastard looks like he’s about to soil himself, but I’m beyond caring. "Follow me, sir," he stumbles out.
"Lead the way," I command.
As we head toward Sharon’s room, my heart begins to race in my chest, like I’m walking into a firefight.
What the fuck are you doing, mudak?
I still don’t know the answer. All I know is that it’s too late to back out. Not that I want to back out. I must see her. I must know what’s wrong with her. I must understand why she’s got me tied up in knots.
We walk down long corridors for what feels like an eternity before we finally stop in front of a room. The door is closed. Zanadan turns to me. "She had her surgery last night. She is probably asleep right now and she mustn’t be woken up. I hope you understand, sir. This is in the interest of the patient."
I nod. "Loud and clear."
I wait for the doctor to turn the corner and disappear before I push open the door.
***
The room is a small one, with just one bed. I pause at the doorway, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness before stepping inside. Slowly, the dim light reveals a small figure lying there.
Sharon.
Her golden hair is splayed across the pillow. She looks almost impossibly fragile amidst the tubes and the wires. My throat tightens at the sight of her, but before I move closer, something else catches my eye.
There’s a chair next to her bed, and in it, a woman is sleeping. In the dimness of the room, I can only make out her silhouette: the curve of her shoulder, the cascade of her hair. But as I take another step forward and the dim light from the hallway falls across her face, I almost stumble back and fall on my ass.
It’s Mindy.
Mindy Williams is sleeping there.
I feel like I was kicked in the head by a horse. My legs go weak and my breath comes in short as I stare at her.
What the fuck is she doing here?
Is she…?
Of course, she is. My brain frantically scrambles for an explanation and it doesn’t take long to put two and two together. Sharon is raised by a single mom. And her surname is Williams.
Sharon is Mindy’s daughter, dickhead!
Sharon is the same little girl you saw in Walmart with Mindy!
Jesus Christ, I can’t believe it! The little girl that stirred something buried deep inside me is Mindy’s daughter! And her mother? Her mother is right here with her! For seven grueling years, I stubbornly refused to acknowledge how fucking desperately I longed for her. And ever since I saw her in New York High, I’ve been jerking off to her memory every day like some horny teenager. And now, she is here. Sleeping right in front of me. Having no idea that I’m staring at her like some creep.
I know I should exit the room before I wake her up, but I can’t tear my eyes off her.
She looks different - more mature, but still achingly beautiful. There are new lines around her eyes, a weariness in the set of her shoulders even as she sleeps. But it's unmistakably her. And she looks fucking incredible.
As my initial shock begins to ebb, a thousand questions flood my mind. And then it hits me like a freight train.
If Mindy is Sharon’s mother…
and Sharon is six…
Could she be…?
Motherfucker!
No. I shake my head, trying to clear the impossible thought. If Sharon was mine, Mindy would have told me. She would have… wouldn’t she?
Even if I ask myself this question, doubt creeps into my mind and lingers there like a dark shadow.
How the fuck would she have told you?
She thought you were dead, mudak!
She still thinks you’re dead for fuck’s sake!
I almost turn around and storm out of the room as the realization dawns on me. She’s going to freak out if she wakes up and sees me standing here like an idiot. She’s going to think she’s seeing a ghost. A ghost from the past. But I’m so overwhelmed by the weight of everything that I can’t get my legs to move. It’s like they’ve grown roots. A part of me wants to turn around and flee, to pretend I never saw the two of them. But another part, a much stronger one, keeps me there. I’m unable to look away from the woman I once fell for and her child who might be… mine?
Could she be yours, Korolev?
Why the fuck do you think she resembles Cordelia?
Bozhe moy!
My mouth goes dry in an instant. I open it and close it, but no sound comes out. I’m like a gaping fish fighting for air. Every single nerve in my body is screaming at me to move, to do something, but I’m paralyzed, locked in place by the sheer weight of my realization.
And then, as if sensing my presence, Mindy begins to stir.