Chapter 5

Elena's POV

“You sure you don't have anyone in there that you'd like to pick up?” Marcus asked again when we got into the corridor car park of the hospital, somewhere I never knew existed.

My mind slowly drifted back to Diego and the thought of him running into this mess- my mess, I don't think I would ever forgive myself for that.

“No,” I shook my head, watching his chauffeur open the luxury SUV as I slowly stepped in.

I honestly don't know what had came over me, but maybe because I needed fresh air and wanted to be very out of this hospital before I ended up in the sick bay myself.

I tapped on my screen and secretly sent a text to Sarah, asking her for one last help even though we both knew it wasn't going to be the last.

Grateful for Sarah Chen always!

The ride home was so off with me sitting beside a tinted window, watching the city blur while Marcus sat across from me.

Neither of us said a word.

And even though the car was large enough for six people in the car, it felt so small and hot.

Maybe because I could feel his eyes on me every damn minute, trying to understand who I was or had become.

I completely ignored him....or at least, I tried to.

I sighed out loud absentmindedly as the SUV eventually turned onto my street.

The neighborhood wasn't terrible, but it wasn't impressive either with old apartment buildings, peeling paint, cracked sidewalks, tiny balconies overflowing with laundry.

Marcus cleared his throat. "You live here?"

I hated the disbelief in his voice, but honestly why should I care? "Yes. Does anything matter?”

His gaze moved toward the building, then back to me in a shock expression like he suddenly realized something.

While he'd been standing behind those podiums, I'd been living here.

I looked away before I could see any more because the guilt wasn't going to fix any shit.

“Elena-” he voiced out, but I didn't answer. “Why didn't you tell me?'“

I raised my brows at him in disbelief. What an absurd question to ask me. “Tell you what?"

"That you needed help."

My head snapped toward him. "Help? Please, Marcus.” I said, grabbing my bag. “Thank you for the kind gesture. I'll leave now.”

However, his hand quickly brushed to my hand, stopping me from turning the door open. "Let's talk this out, please.” He pleaded.

I rolled my eyes, averting my eyes from him. “Marcus, there is absolutely nothing to talk about now. Nothing!”

“I wanted you!” He blurted out, and the air left my lungs.

The car suddenly looked so stiff.

Marcus looked down at his hands, stripped bare like he was just the normal man I had first met. "I never stopped looking for you."

I stared in utmost disbelief. "What?"

His eyes met mine. "I orchestrated that interview."

My stomach churned at his revelation. "What?"

"It wasn't spontaneous. I just knew the network would push personal questions.”

My heartbeat accelerated. “You used national television to find me?”

"Yes."

The answer alone, made the annoyance in me flare up even further as I shoved against the seat. “You had no fucking right!”

"I know."

"No right at all."

"I know."

"You ruined my life."

His jaw clenched. “I know.”

“Stop!” I yelled, closing my eyes because the worst part was that he genuinely sounded sorry. “Just stop this fucking pretense. I don't want to hear it. I am done with this conversation.”

He continued anyway. "I ran out of options, Elena." Slowly, he reached into his jacket pocket and handed me a folded medical file, earning a deep frown from me.'

"What is this?"

"Read it."

Reluctantly, I opened it, and the first page stole the breath from my lungs.

*Neurological Assessment*

*Cognitive Impairment*

"*Memory Episodes*

*Progressive Degeneration*

I blinked continuously,the words refusing to make any sense. “What is this?” I asked again.

Marcus leaned back. "Twelve months ago, I started forgetting things."

I stared at him in disbelief.

"Important things.” His gaze lowered in pain “Meetings, names, convos, sometimes entire days.”

And the anger inside me began to soften against my own will.

Marcus swallowed. "There are moments when I know exactly who I am, and there are moments when everything feels disconnected.”

I couldn't speak, move, or even breathe properly because suddenly pieces started fitting together.

Those distance between us, emotional withdrawal, was he fighting an invisible battle then?

My chest hurts.

God.

Was this all a lie? No, it couldn't be. These are real results.

Did he push me away because he couldn't hold onto the fact that he might not remember me again?

But even so, he was still said to be with his secretary.

Things weren't adding up.

"I thought if I disappeared into work long enough nobody would notice." He laughed, “Turns out that's impossible.'“

My mind suddenly drifted back to my Diego and a sudden wave of panic swept through me.

What if he found out already? What if he discovered the truth? What if he learned he had a son?

Marcus was a mayor, powerful, influential, rich– if he wants custody, my Diego...would I even stand a chance?

The thought alone made me sick.

I couldn't dare tell him.

“Let's leave the sick talks alone. I have a proposal.”

I frowned, snapping my head at him. "A proposal?"

His expression turned serious. "I need help."

I immediately shook my head. "Marcus–"

"Please hear me out."

Reluctantly, I stayed quiet to give him a benefit of doubt.

"My doctors suggested hiring someone. Someone who knows me, recognizes when an episode is coming, and who can help me remember.”

"No."

"Elena–"

"No."

He continued anyway. "I want you to become my private memory-care assistant."

The words landed in my head.

"I'll pay you." He quickly added. “I'll pay you whatever amount you think is fair.”

What did I expect from a man like the Mayor? Always wanting to buy his way through things. "I don't want your charity." I spat out angrily.

"It's not charity." His voice softened. “It's an actual job.”

A dangerous, heartbreaking job.

I shook my head. "No."

I adjusted my bag again and slowly pushed the door opened, getting out of his car.

“Think about it.” I heard him say but my response was cut off by that one phone call that definitely meant something was deeply wrong.

Sarah.

Dr. Sarah digit appeared on my phone and I quickly answered. "Sarah?"

Silence, then a long disturbing sigh.

Marcus stared at me, with a face that says: What's wrong?

"Sarah?" I called again, my knee weakening in the process.

"Elena..." My heart dropped. "The additional scans came back."

I couldn't breathe anymore right now. “And?"

"The headaches aren't random. It's a rare neurological condition."

My legs gave out, fortunately, Marcus was fast enough to hold onto my hand as tears instantly filled my eyes. "No..."

"It can be treated,but the treatment is experimental.”

My hands shook, understanding what Sarah meant by experiment. "How much?"

Sarah went MIA for a second before whispering the amount that would cost the living of Diego and I.

My eyes fell back on a worried Marcus in front of me. “Let's sign the deal.”