---- I was about to refuse, but I saw the emergency contact line was blank. I paused for a moment, then under "Relationship," I signed: Girlfriend. Sophia Williams. The surgery was a success. But afterward, the doctor pulled me aside, his face grim. "Ms. Williams, during the surgery, we noticed an abnormal muscle response... we ran further tests. Your 'boyfriend'... he has Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. ALS." Lou Gehrig's disease. A torture that traps a living soul in a decaying body.
No wonder he drives like he wants to die... "We can only try to slow the progression. But... the life expectancy for patients with this disease is typically only three to five years." When I returned to the room, he was awake. ---- He was propped up against the headboard. He'd pulled his hood down, revealing a face that was far too young and far too pale. His eyes were staring blankly at the ceiling. When he saw me, he didn't bother to hide his eye-roll. "You!" I said, annoyed.
His only response was another eye-roll. It took two weeks of me taking care of him around the clock before he would even deign to speak to me. "Damien Cross," he said, looking at me. "And you, fake girlfriend?" "Damien, how many times do I have to tell you? It was an emergency. I'm not interested in a bag of bones like you!" I shot back. Damien rolled his eyes again. Ihad secretly looked up the name. The results were shocking.
---- Damien Cross, the only son of Boston's Cross family, an arms smuggling empire. He had mysteriously disappeared three years ago at his own engagement party. The Cross family had put up a massive reward for him. The sullen-eyed boy from the photo was the same person as the arrogant, bone-thin, eye-rolling jackass in front of me. "Contact the Cross family." I slapped a piece of paper with a number on it onto his bedside table.
"I'm done babysitting your skinny ass." The Cross family descended like a black tide that same afternoon. I left without a second thought and returned to my parents in Sicily. But three days later, a fleet of black, armored SUVs silently surrounded my family's castle. Damien Cross, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, stepped out of a car, leaning on a cane.