Chapter 4 - The Secret Illness
Damian completely refused to look at me.
He roughly rolled up his sleeve and offered his bare arm to the surgeon.
"I stopped taking the medication exactly three weeks ago," Damian said.
The surgeon hesitated, looking deeply concerned by this admission.
"Mr. Cross, donating blood right now could trigger a very severe relapse," the doctor warned.
"Take my blood or I will buy this entire hospital and fire you," Damian growled.
A terrified nurse quickly escorted him into a nearby prep room.
I followed close behind them, my mind racing with terrifying questions.
Damian sat in a leather recliner while the nurse inserted a thick needle into his vein.
I stood rigidly at the foot of his chair.
"What illness are you hiding?" I demanded.
He stared blankly at the red tube filling with his blood.
"It does not matter right now," he said quietly.
"It matters to me," I shot back fiercely.
He finally looked up, and I saw deep, dark circles under his eyes that expensive concealer had hidden.
"I have leukemia, Claire."
The three words sucked all the oxygen straight out of the room.
"I was formally diagnosed six months before our divorce," he confessed.
My hands began to shake uncontrollably at my sides.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I cried.
"Because my mother convinced me that a sick husband would only drag you down," he whispered.
I realized then that Vivian had flawlessly orchestrated our entire separation.
She had poisoned both of our minds with carefully crafted lies.
Suddenly, Damian's head of security rushed breathless into the room.
"Sir, we secured the apartment, but the boys were not there," the guard said.
My fragile heart stopped completely.
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"The babysitter left a note on the counter," the guard added, holding up a piece of paper.
The note was written on heavy, expensive stationery bearing the Cross family crest.
