Chapter Five

Kumba

The ultrasound image wouldn’t leave my mind, it was all I could see. 

No matter how hard I tried to focus on anything else, that grainy black and white picture kept flashing behind my eyes.

I shoved the thought away and walked straight through the hospital corridor, ignoring the curious glances from nurses who recognized me.

I pushed open the door to Dr. Valentina’s office without knocking.

She looked up immediately.

“Kumba, what's going on?”

I cut her off.

“I will pay her bills.”

“What?”

“Every single one,” I said flatly. “The surgery, her room, the medication everything. Whatever tests she needs. Iwant that girl well taken care off until she is better to be discharged."

Valentina studied me carefully before finally saying anything. 

“That’s generous of you Kumba.”

“It’s damage control.” I cut her off

My voice echoed sharply in the room.

“She was hit by a car, she is homeless, and somehow this hospital managed to implant my child in her by accident. The least we can do is treat her and not have her worry about how she will pay for the treatment.”

Valentina leaned back slightly.

“And the pregnancy?”

I ran a hand through my hair, Just hearing the word made my chest tighten again.

“Do whatever she decides,” I said finally.

Her eyebrows lifted.

“What? You are leaving the decision to her?”

“Yes.”

I grabbed my jacket from the chair.

“If she wants to terminate it, fine.”

If she doesn’t, I pushed the thought away immediately.

“I am not involved,” I finished coldly.

Valentina’s gaze sharpened.

“Kumba, that child is yours still.”

I stopped at the door but didn’t turn around.

“Legally maybe,” I said and then I walked out.

The drive home was a blur of red lights and rage.

By the time I pulled into the long driveway of the Morenti estate, my hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles had gone white.

The house stood exactly the way it always had, perfect, cold, controlled, Just like my mother.

I slammed the car door and walked inside without waiting for the staff to greet me.

“Where is she?” I asked one of the housekeepers.

“In the sitting room, sir.”

Of course she was, my mother loved that room.

It was where she entertained people she wanted to manipulate and plot on how to ruin their lives.

I walked straight there and pushed the door open.

My mother, Diane Morenti, sat elegantly on the cream sofa with a cup of tea in her hand like she didn’t have a single sin on her conscience.

She looked up calmly.

“Kumba,” she said smoothly. “You look upset, what's wrong baby?”

I hated when she did that, called me baby like I was still a little boy. 

That calm tone snapped the last thread holding my temper together.

“Did you steal my genetic sample?” I demanded.

Her expression barely changed.

“How dramatic?”

“Answer the question mom”

She set her teacup down slowly.

“I wouldn’t call it stealing really.”

“Then what would you call bribing hospital staff to obtain my specimen without my consent?” I snapped.

Her lips pressed together briefly.

“Ensuring the future of this family is secure.”

I laughed harshly.

“You arranged artificial insemination behind my back mother, you were going to make me a father without my consent.”

“You were sick,” she said sharply. “You were fighting cancer and talking about destroying your samples like a fool. I wasn’t about to let the Morenti bloodline disappear because you were being emotional.”

“I destroyed them for a reason mother.”

“Yes,” she said dismissively. “Because you were afraid your kids might have the cancer gene”

My fists clenched.

“You arranged for Moraa to be inseminated? ”

“Of course I did, she is about to be your wife, a child won't hurt”

“And it failed,” I said coldly.

She blinked once.

“What?” 

“Moraa is not pregnant,” I continued, "I guess she hasn't told you the bad news huh?" 

Her calm mask cracked slightly.

“That’s impossible, it was supposed to be a success”

“Well it wasn't mother and your dream of becoming a grandmother ends there.”

Her fingers tightened on the armrest.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

Her expression hardened.

“Well then the hospital is incompetent.”

“That’s not the point,” I said furiously, “You had no right to interfere in my life like that.”

“Kumba”

“I will never be a father,” I cut in sharply, "I don't want to be a father, I don't want my child or children to go through what I have gone through. And no amount of meddling will ever change my mind."

The words echoed in the room.

Her eyes flashed with anger.

“That is not your decision alone.”

“It absolutely is.”

She stood slowly.

“You are the only heir to this family, our bloodline will die with you, don't you understand that?”

“And that doesn’t give you the right to control my life mother, I don't care about any of that.”

Her voice went icy.

“You are being irrational.”

“No,” I said quietly.

“I am done with you trying to meddle in my life, and the wedding is off. Be sure to tell Moraa since she listens to you now instead of her actual fiancee.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

“Moraa has done nothing wrong.”

“Then tell her I am sorry she is not pregnant,” I said coldly, “But the wedding is not happening.”

“You will humiliate this family if you cancel that wedding Kumba.”

I shrugged.

“You should have thought about that before trying to engineer my child in a laboratory.”

Her face went pale with fury.

I turned and walked out of the room.

By the time I got back to my penthouse, the anger had turned into something heavier, Something darker. The image of Gesare was still haunting me, something about her eyes. 

I poured myself a drink the second I walked in.

Then another.

The city lights stretched across the windows like a glittering sea.

Usually the view calmed me down, but not tonight.

I dropped onto the couch and stared at my phone. My mind kept drifting back to the hospital room.

Gesare’s laugh.

Her stupid joke about being the next Mary.

Her bright smile when she showed me the ultrasound, She didn’t know who I was or that my mother and fiancee had changed the course of her life. 

I took another long drink.

“Not my problem,” I muttered to the empty apartment.

My phone buzzed on the table and I ignored it but it buzzed again.

Dr. Valentina.

A bad feeling twisted in my stomach immediately and I opened the text.

She signed herself out of the hospital.*

Gesare left an hour ago.

We tried to stop her but she insisted and since all her bills were cleared we had no ground to hold her and I have no idea where she is, she never called the shelter I told her to. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered.

A homeless woman with a broken leg and pregnant with my child was now somewhere out in the city.

I grabbed my jacket and my keys.

The whiskey haze vanished instantly.

Because for the first time since this nightmare started, I felt something that looked a lot like panic.

I was worried about her, I wanted to protect her from the world.