My one-way ticket out.

Chapter 3:

Greyson’s POV

“This is the fifth publication in one month, don’t they have anything better?” My secretary threw the newspaper on the table as he walked into my office, all cladded in suits.

I sighed and rubbed down on my temples.

“What are we going to do, Greyson? With these things swarming the internet, we don’t have cases aside from some child juvie cases. We don’t have time on our side. It’s only a matter of time before we become lawyers in the murky waters of clients.”

His fear was palpable, though I wouldn’t show it. Three months ago my identity had gone down into the drain. My name was on the cover of every news headline and print. Not in the manner I liked.

One major case had sullied my reputation, said I was having an affair with the jury and that was how I won all the cases in town.

It wasn’t my fault all the other attorneys were incompetent. Now when they saw an opportunity to bring me down, they swarmed around like bees.

Based on the attorney's rule, I couldn’t reveal why I had met up with her. It was the first rule as a lawyer, keep your client's confidentiality. It was all about trust and in my field, when once a trust was broken the damage was more severe. You lose your license.

“We will find a way,” I told him, closing the file before me. I wore my black coat. “There will be a case where all the lawyers will abandon. Bad blood. That is what we will go for and we will be back at the forefront of the media. This time for good.” I assured him.

My secretary wasn’t so keen on hope and gamble. But he had got to learn. When you were in the industry. Everything was a gamble. That gamble could wedger between winning in court or losing.

“That will take a miracle. The dogs of lawyers are dragging every case. Leaving crumbs for you. You have to speak up. She wasn’t your client.”

“No, but she confided in me. Believe it or not, as an attorney there are things you never do.” I walked out. It was two in the afternoon and by this time here was usually swarmed by clients, phone buzzing.

However, it was quiet as a graveyard now.

“Lock up, I have to go somewhere.” He didn’t hate it any more than I did. And things at home were getting all murky.

“Going somewhere, Mr. Greyson?” My driver asked as I approached the car.

“Yes, but I’ll manage just fine on my own. You are off duty today.” I told him as I strutted over to the car.

“Yes sir. Be safe.” He tossed me the key and I caught it mid-air.

Where I was going was discreet. No one had to know but me.

Putting the gear on fire, I matched the gas pedal and shot into the road. As I drove I saw my face on the billboard. Another heinous news.

Mr. Anderson Whiskton, my rival, ever since my imminent downfall had risen to fame.

I maneuvered into the parking lot and parked my car. Stepping out, I donned a black mask and a black face cap as I trudged up into the elevator and the bright white fluorescent hallway.

A couple more turns and I was at Dr. Felix's office. I knocked and went inside.

“Welcome Mr. Greyson.” He greeted me, “you may have a seat.” He gestured to the chair right in front of him and I took it.

“Are the results out?” I asked Steely. I schooled my face off every expression or emotion.

Dr. Felix's face turned blank and professional. He sat down and brought out my result and then passed it to me. “You have a tumor in your head.”

“What? That can’t be.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Greyson. But you are severely ill and the growth has developed.”

A brain tumor and a lawyer. Those were some of the possible worst sicknesses to happen to anyone in my profession.

“You must be mistaken,” I argued, my cool mask deteriorating.

“I am very certain. It would explain your unusual fatigue, amnesia, confusion, and pain.”

It was more than just pain. I was in agony when it came. Like some machine was grinding my brain, squeezing my brain cells. It was maddening.

“Can you manage it?” I asked without a stutter, trying not to lose my shit, I was grappling at straws whilst I believe this could have been some sort of mistake.

“I’m sorry, but it cannot. We just have to contain it and give you meds for the pain and the illusion that will come with it.”

The illusion was what we called madness, mentally unstable before the jury. Most times, cases were treated with less severity because of mentally unstable clients.

A mentally unstable lawyer was no lawyer.

He looked like he had more to say so I urged on. “Anything else I need to know?”

“You have a maximum of one year and six months to live. But it will not get to that.”

I chuckled and scratched my brows. One year and six months. My body cooled like a bucket of ice was emptied on it.

“With the medication, you can reach that but——“

My phone rang and interrupted him. I wouldn’t have answered but my sister was the one calling and she’d tried before. My phone was on DND plus she never called.

I swiped to answer. “It’s Papa…” she croaked, “it’s grandfather, Greyson.” She sobbed into the phone.

I jolted to my feet. The phone was plastered against my ear with a vice grip. “Where are you?”

“In the hospital.” She cried further

“I’ll be there in minutes.” I wasn’t thinking and there was this surge of adrenaline as I forgot about my predicament. I took my result and turned to the doctor, “I’ll be back.” I said before sprinting out.

I yanked my car door open and tossed the result into the back seat before zooming off into the road. The heat made me hot, but my knuckles only turned white as I stepped on the gas pedal without releasing it.

Arriving at the hospital I quickly met up with her. It was our family hospital. She ran and hugged me. “The doctor doesn’t think he’ll make it Greyson,” she cried.

“Where’s he, take me to him.” I charged. She led me down to his ward.

I didn’t think as I pushed the door open and walked in. The sinking realization that in a matter of months, I would be like this was gut-wrenching. I held his hand and sat down on the brown wooden chair next to him. “Grandpa,”

He coughed and craned his neck towards me. “Greyson.” His agile voice was so hoarse. Grandfather didn’t act his age. The army made him strong and so even in his deteriorating age, he was vibrant, and could still run a mile. But now he was barely a bag of bone.

Coughing once again he said. “You are so much like him. You have to be careful, Greyson. Pro. ...mise me… you.”

“Did someone hurt you? Who is it? Tell me.” I demanded.

He whizzed and his eyes pinched together in mock strength. “Some things are left unknown, my dear grandchild. I know you didn’t want to get married. But you must. You must get..” he coughed again, this time more persistent than the first. “You must get married, ge….get an hei…r yo…”

More coughing till his chest was leaping with every sound.

“Doctor! Doctor! Doctor!”

They ran in, immediately strapped him down, and tried to control his heaving and coughing.

“You must ... .Greyson… you must….” Those were his last words with his eyes fixed on me before he suddenly stopped choking and breathing. His eyes were open, fathomless, staring into me and I knew he was dead.

******

I was back into my car, my head a jigsaw of emotions. I walked out after the doctor confirmed he was dead. Grandpa had requested for me to get married and have a child, if only he knew I was dying as well.

I needed something strong to make me think straight. I drove down to the next bar. Body taut, jaw clenched. I ordered some whiskey, Grandpa’s favorite brand.

That was when I saw her. A perfect vessel to get away with. Women like her didn’t get emotionally attached. And sure as hell didn’t care for anything but the money you had to offer.

And then I indulged her. All of her.

I left the money on the cupboards, dressed and went down. There was no need to familiarize myself with her. I checked out by the counter which was around the time I saw her making her way down the stairs.

I planned to ignore her but in less than forty-eight hours the means to my dilemma provided itself.

“You are under arrest Miss Sienna Hopper for the death of Jace Wright.”

A murder charge, a culprit, and a lady might just be the means to pull myself from the murky water of the media and then fulfill Grandpa’s dying wish.

She was my one-way ticket out.