[Carmela's POV]
I changed into a house attire and dived into the electronic world of powerful medical hospitals, which were immaculate at healing old age people suffering from blood pressure. Finally, I found the best of the best, Acacia International Hospital. This renowned hospital was the home for sick business tycoons and world leaders. I waited for the hospital portals open so I could log in. After some research, I realized that my mom's illness would cost between the range of 5 million yuan to 7 million dollars, and it's not certain if she'll live. She's already very old, which means she'll have to outlive her years.
[Narrator's POV]
Camella paced the length of the extravagant bedroom, her silk gown brushing softly against the marble floor. Her thoughts spun wildly, crashing into one another like restless waves. Her mother was dying. The doctors had said her blood pressure had reached dangerous levels. Treatment here was no longer enough.
"Mom," she whispered into the silence, her throat tightening. "You're already at the last bridge…"
The door creaked, and her husband stepped in. "Honey, you're back." She forced a smile, hollow and brittle, as she leaned into Samson's arms. He noticed the emptiness in her eyes but chose silence.
Dinner that evening was unsettling. The vast hall, usually warm with chatter, felt cold and lifeless. The silver clink of cutlery echoed like whispers in a crypt. Both camella and Samson seemed buried in their own thoughts, until she finally broke the silence.
"Samson, how was your day?"
He gave her a faint smile and shook his head, as if to say, Don't pretend. Just tell me.
She sighed, shoulders sagging. "Finally, you've caught me. My mom's blood pressure is climbing. I was thinking… maybe we could fly her to the States for proper care."
"Which hospital?" he asked.
"Acacia," she murmured.
At the mention of the name, Samson froze. His fork slipped from his hand, clattering against the plate. He looked at her with a sternness that made her chest tighten.
"I know it's a lot," Camella rushed to explain, "but my mom is dying. Alex won't survive it if something happens to her. We have to try—"
"camella," Samson cut in, his voice low, his face darkened. "It's not about the money. We're about to lose everything."
Her chair scraped against the floor as she pushed closer to him. "What happened?"
Samson's eyes darted away. His lips pressed into a line, then parted slowly. "Lincoln… my boss. He—" Samson paused, as if choking on the words. "He wants you. One night. That's his condition. Otherwise, we lose everything."
Camella stared at him, disbelief crashing over her like a storm. "What?" Her voice broke. The world around her seemed to blur.
Samson didn't flinch. He just stared at the table, guilt hidden under a mask of resignation.
Lincoln was a respectable man, someone Camella had never imagined would stoop so low. But what cut deeper than the request itself was her husband's willingness—his eagerness—to lay her dignity on the altar of his survival.
Her heart clenched. She thought of her mother, frail and gasping for life. She thought of Alex, her brother, who would crumble if they lost their mother. The silence stretched until it felt unbearable.
Finally, she whispered, "Fine. I'll do it. Just one night. But you must promise me something, Samson. You will never bring this to my ears again. You will never call me unfaithful. And after this, you will never use it against me."
Samson's shoulders relaxed, as if a mountain had been lifted from him. "I agree, honey. Doing this will save me from humiliation. I'll be forever grateful."
That night, Samson slept peacefully, his breathing deep and untroubled. But Camella lay rigid on her side of the bed, eyes wide open, heart pounding against her ribs. Tears pooled silently, sliding into her pillow. Betrayal burned inside her, twisting tighter than any rope.
The night was endless. Sleep became a luxury she could no longer afford.