After Divorce, Chased By My Billionaire Ex-Fiancé

“Mommy, where’s daddy? He promised he’ll be here for my birthday. Is he working again?”

I swallow the painful lump in my throat and turn to my three-year old son.

The hospital air is already depressing enough, but watching my frail son tethered to so many wires threatens to break the dam that holds my tears.

“Your father will be here soon, sweetheart. He promised us, didn’t he? I’m sure he’s on his way right now.”

I say those words without any iota of hope whatsoever. It’s already eleven PM and I’ve been calling my husband since sunrise with no response.

“It’s almost midnight.” Dave argues weakly. “Is he spending time with Miss Laura and her daughters again? But he promised to stay with me throughout today.”

His eyes fill with tears and my heart tightens painfully.

No longer able to bear his sad face, I plaster a fake smile on mine, get to my feet and wipe his cheeks.

“You know what? I’m sure daddy is waiting outside right now. I’ll go out there and bring him in, okay?”

He brightens up immediately. “Really? Okay, mommy.”

With one last glance at the sad birthday decorations and the already melting ice cream cake, I walk out of the room.

Deep down, I know Henry isn’t waiting outside, but a part of me still hopes he wouldn’t disappoint us today.

That part of me dies when I see the empty hallway.

There’s still no sign of him.

My hopelessness slowly gives way to anger as I trudge to the entrance. This nonsense has to stop. Today.

“Hey, Jared. Have you heard from your boss lately?” I ask his chief bodyguard.

“Yes, Mrs Wilson. I was just about to call you. I’m afraid the boss will not be able to make it on time today. He was already on his way but Miss Laura called him with news that one of her daughters fell and broke her arm. He had to turn around and help her take the little girl to the hospital.

He says he’s sorry…”

Miss Laura again. His secretary. I just recently found out that my husband and this “Miss Laura” were high school sweethearts that got separated when she moved to England.

She returned two years ago with twin daughters and a dead husband… and my marriage has not been the same ever since.

Raw, venomous rage shoots through my bloodstream.

“Stop. Just stop!” I screech, my fingers already balling into fists.

“Did you tell your boss that his son who has terminal cancer has been waiting for him since this morning because he wants to hear his daddy sing ‘happy birthday’ to him?” I ask angrily.

“Does he even remember that he has a wife and child?”

The bodyguard lowers his head.

“I’m really sorry, ma’am. I believe…”

Before he can complete his sentence, I hear sounds of a commotion behind me and turn to see a group of nurses frantically running down the hallway.

For a moment, I freeze. My heart turns to ice.

I finally snap out of my daze when one of the nurses says to her colleague;

“We have an emergency. The little boy in room 204 just suffered a cardiac arrest. I heard it might be fatal…”

That’s the last thing I register before I take off running towards my son’s room, my heart in my mouth.

God, not today. Please…

My Dave is the little boy in room 204. If anything happens to my child, I might end up killing myself.

By the time I arrive at the room, a nurse is already closing the doors.

“Hold on! Please, wait!” I scream, frantic with worry. “ I need to see my son. How’s he doing? Please…”

The nurse shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, ma’am but the doctor is attending to him right now. You’re not allowed to come in. Please, wait outside.”

She closes the door in my face and all the tears I was struggling to hold back stream down my cheeks in torrents.

After pacing the hallway for nearly thirty minutes, I whip out my phone and dial my husband’s number.

I don’t care if he’s been a horrible husband and father these past few days. All I need right now is his support.

He answers on the first ring and my shoulders sag in relief.

My relief is however short lived when a woman’s voice comes over the speakers.

“Hello, Henry? I…”

“I’m sorry but Henry is busy right now. This is Laura.”

I pause, not sure I’ve heard right.

“L-Laura?” I stutter. “Where’s Henry? I need to speak with him urgently.”

“This is Amani, right? Your husband is getting my daughter’s prescription from the doctor at the moment.” She replies haughtily. “But if you’d like to leave a message…”

Upon hearing that statement, my heart runs cold. Every single bit of hope that I once harboured for my marriage drains away, leaving me completely empty.

I end the call without a second thought and pace the hallway by myself, praying and crying while my son battles for his life.

Exactly three hours later, the door opens and a doctor walks out.

My pulse drums crazily as I run to him;

“Doctor, how’s my son? Is he okay? Please tell me he’s okay.”

When the doctor says nothing for the first two seconds, I lean back and finally notice his downcast eyes.

He doesn’t have to say a single word. The shattering of my heart already tells me all I need to know.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Wilson. I tried my absolute best but the cardiac arrest was too sudden and couldn’t be controlled. Unfortunately, we lost him. Your son is dead.”