1. Desperation

Lana’s POV

I sat in the cold, sterile room of the hospital; the scent of antiseptic and sickness hung heavy within the air.

My mother lay in the bed, her body frail and with machines and wires hooked on her. There was only a soft beeping of the monitors in the quiet of the room, a relentless reminder of just how fragile things were.

I felt the doctors words echo-against my skull, cold, landing hard blows one after another on my already fragile mind: critical condition, urgent surgery, no guarantees.

It felt like someone kicked me in the guts, sucking all the air from my lungs. My head was a jumble of fear and panic. How was I to be able to afford surgery? I didn't have any savings; I didn't have any family. My mother's medical bills were already growing, while I wasn't able to do much at all. My job drained me and gave me pennies as compensation.

The doctor's voice cut through my thoughts, firm but sympathetic. "Miss Reynolds, I'm afraid we can't delay any longer. Your mother needs this surgery, and she needs it now."

I nodded and tried to look composed, while inside, I crumbled. Where was I to get the money? An omega, barely scraping by, cleaning for some big corporation-my wages barely covered our living expenses, let alone medical bills.

As I came out of the hospital, the bright sunlight slapped me in the face, a harsh reminder of my misery. It was like I was walking through a nightmare; everything around me was distorted and unreal. I made my way to the headquarters of the corporation, my heart heavy with pain and despair.

I took a deep breath and pushed through the revolving doors, my eyes scanning the sleek, modern lobby a sharp contrast to my dull, shabby life. The receptionist looked up at me, her expression polite but detached.

"Lana, how can I help you?" she asked.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "I need to see Mr. Johnson. I have a. a personal matter I need to discuss with him."

The receptionist raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Let me check his schedule."

A few minutes later, I was ushered into Mr. Johnson's office. He looked up from his desk, his expression stern.

"Lana, what can I do for you?" he asked, his voice firm but not unkind.

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my courage. "Good day,Mr. Johnson, I'm in a bit of a bind. My mother is in the hospital, and she needs urgent surgery. I was wondering if. if the company could help me out with a loan."

Mr. Johnson's face went cold; his eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid that's not possible, Lana. Company policy is clear: we don't give loans to employees."

I felt desperation well up inside me, my eyes suddenly brimming with tears. "But please, Mr. Johnson. my mother's life depends on it. I'll do anything to pay it back, I promise. I’ll work double.”

Mr. Johnson's face didn't soften. "I'm sorry, Lana. My hands are tied."

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut, all the air sucked out of me. I nodded, trying to keep my composure, but inside, I was crumbling.

“T-thank you.” I mumbled and stood up to take my leave.

As I left the office I heard him say something abiut a party this night but I didn’t catch his words.

I felt like I was walking through a nightmare, everything around me distorted and unreal.

I found a private spot behind the building and sat down on the cold floor, my mind a complete jumble of fear and panic. What was I to do? Where was I to turn?

As the sun began setting into the evening, casting long shadows across city streets, the options seemed to be running out. And the time was running out for my mother.

What was I supposed to do?

I sat there , it felt like for hours, tears running down my face in a helpless sort of defeat. Bright lights from the office complex seemed to make fun of me, an extreme reminder of how I'd just failed. Right at the point when I felt myself giving way to despair, my phone burst into the dead silence. Sniffling, I rubbed my nose against the back of my hand and answered.

"Hey, Lana, it's Sarah. I'm running a bit behind, and I need you to take over the evening shift," my coworker chimed, cheerful and oblivious to my distress.

I apologized and tried to sound composed, while promising to get there ASAP. I ended the call, took a deep breath, and readied myself to face the rest of the day.

As I approached the office building, the sound of laughter and music began to develop. I glanced out at the parking lot and saw a line of sleek, black cars pulling up to the entrance, their headlights casting a golden glow over the scene. A huge banner with the company's logo was draped across the front of the building, with a red carpet running from the entry to the curb.

That is when it hit me: tonight was the night of the high-profile charity gala. Our company's CEO, Mr. Johnson, had been planning this event for weeks, and it was all anybody in the office could talk about. In my distress, I had utterly forgotten about this.

I heard my boss's voice as clear as day, laughing and chatting in the lobby. My heart sank, and a wave of embarrassment washed over me. I was too ashamed to face him-he had rejected my plea for help.

I changed my mind in a split second and decided I would slip in the back. Down darkened corridors, my eyes welled up with tears once again as I thought of my mother's situation.

"Why does this have to happen to us?" I complained, well, feeling a bit sorry for myself. "Why can't we catch a break?

The path curved, and I didn't see him standing in my way until my body was sprawled across him. I groaned in dismay as I stumbled into him, a startled yelp bursting loudly from my throat, my backward stumble making the whole world one big blur.

And before I could even change my blink, strong arms closed around me, steadying me. My gaze shot upward-my eyes meeting the eyes of a stranger.

“You okay miss?”