My Assassination Target Is My Billionaire Lover?!

Even before I opened the swing doors, the smell of liquor hit me like a force. I stood for a bit taking in the scenery before me. Men and women from different works of life crowded the chairs and the dance floor. Some chatted amongst themselves, while others rocked to the beats from the live band playing on the stage.

The bar, however, seemed to be in a different world of its own. All around it sitting on stools were men jostling for beer or whisky, while others threw back the contents from their bottles down their throats.

It looked like a warzone, except the prize was alcohol and there would be no prisoners.

I smiled to myself. It was stampede night. All the stools around the bar had been occupied, but I needed to be close to the beer, so I headed there. I sashayed forward, my hips taking up a rhythm of their own.

"Hi!" I flapped my eyelashes at this guy with a port belly that could rival King Kong's. "Can I have a seat, please, kind sir?"

He looked at me long enough to know I had a b sizedcup and full hips, and then he made the mistake of leering. "Yeah, sweetheart, you can seat on my lap and I'll give you some of my beer."

Poor man.

I knew he was going to try to draw me to him, and I sighed tiredly.

I gave him a chance. I even stepped back, but he was such a pigheaded son of a gun, so I tried telepathy instead. Maybe that was his thing.

Don't do it, mister, it'll only end in sorrow for you.

But when do men ever listen?

As his hand rose to curl around my waist, I fisted my right hand and hung it in the air as a warning. He flashed his upper missing teeth at me instead of taking heed, stood and walked close to me.

Maybe he thought I was some helpless woman that didn't know how to defend herself, or it could have been because I had red hair and wore a leather mini skirt. Whatever the case was, he didn't see it coming.

My hand landed on his jaw, hot and heavy, giving him an upper cut and making sure to rearrange it. Yeah, he wouldn't be able to talk to anyone for awhile, that's for sure.

For a big man, he went down pretty quickly. He was out like a light at my feet. Make that a beerfilled light.

"Hi, Z!" Ron smiled at me from behind the counter. He didn't so much as blink as he set a green bottle in front of me.

I opened it, about to tip it into my mouth when from the corner of my eyes, I saw him. It had to be him. He stood out like a sore thumb in stark comparison to the other guys around. What with his cold demeanor and all black leather get up, he was a poster boy for dangerous, and he wore it well. He sauntered over to me and with a piercing look at the guy sitting beside me, that one fled, and he took his place.

"I can see you've already made yourself at home." He glanced meaningfully at the unconscious man lying not far from my feet. One of the bouncers was already dragging him away by his legs.

"What can I say, I'm a regular." I shrugged, tipping back my head and gulping the contents of my bottle and smacking my lips after.

"I'll have what she just downed." He indicated to Ron, who had anticipated his request and set before him an identical green bottle.

The man removed a long brown envelope from inside his coat and slid it on the table towards me. I caught it, just before it could get away. As I brought out a 12 by 14 black and white picture of a man from the envelope, I became mesmerized. The man in the picture could have been mistaken for a model by all and any standards. His black hair framed an oval face and a square jaw, while his eyes were grey, hooded and smoldering.

I had never seen a man with such arresting features before. And his eyes, they were so beautiful.

The man I stared at was hot, make that drop dead hot, by any standards.

Pity he had to die.

I looked up to see leather guy quirking a brow at me. "There a problem?"

I shrugged. "Just wondering when you want him gone."

"Tomorrow!" He arched a brow, as if daring me to refuse.

I tried not to look surprised but I couldn't not. That was almost impossible.

"I heard you're the best, so why look so shocked?" His brows arched cockily as he stared at me.

I knew what he was trying to do and I was over that male ego bullshit. I've had to prove myself time without number in this business, and I'll be damned if some man thinks he can swing by and cast aspersions on my reputation.

"For two million quid, I'll do it now if you want." I jutted my chin, daring him to back down. I wasn't just the best, I didn't come cheap either.

He nodded. "My boss will pay you five million. Two and a half million upfront in an untraceable account to be accessed immediately you sign here. . . " He pointed to a form he had whipped out. ". . .and the rest once the job is done."

I struggled not to widen my eyes. Five million was a whole lot of dough. Chito could be made whole again, and I could start a good business with the rest of the money and leave this kind of life I was presently in.

"What's the problem?" The man's gaze settled on me penetratingly. "Money too small for you? My boss is very generous, he can up it if you do a good clean job."

"No problem, mister, except I don't accept transfers upfront. For me, cash is king. Cash advance first, and then a transfer for the balance. I must be paid in full."

The man's eyes glistened dangerously as he leaned forward. "Do you except me to walk around with that amount of money?"

My lips curled in a smile and I also leaned forward. My face was only two inches from his as I replied. "You should have thought about that before contacting me. That's my policy."

Our eyes locked.

This wasn't about money, it was a battle of dominance. Who would capitulate first. I didn't blink, neither did I flinch. And then his upper lip tugged up in a smile and he nodded. He drew the briefcase on the floor up to the bar and slid it across to me.

I caught it and looked at him. "What's this?"

"Open it and see."

Without taking my eyes off him, I opened the briefcase slightly. It was stacked with neatlooking one hundred dollar bills. I brought out one and sniffed it before putting it back. I looked up to see the man watching me closely.

"Hi, my name is Zero, glad to make your acquaintance."

I lifted a hand towards him in a hand shake and watched in rising amusement, the flow of emotions on his face. I knew he debated on whether to shake me or not. Coming to a conclusion, he brought out his hand and clasped mine in a firm shake.

Just as he was about to release my hand, I leaned close once more. "I have one question. "What's his profession?" I tapped the picture in my hand.

Ridges appeared on his brows immediately, and I knew he didn't like my inquisition. Too bad, because even I lived by a code, and that was never to kill a man who didn't have blood on his own hands.

Trust me, I always knew.

The man released a heavy sigh, removed his hand from mine and inclined his head. "Fair enough, he's a scientist who has been made rich by killing a lot of people with his drugs, and that's all you need to know. Now, enough talking. Are you in or out?"

I looked at the man seating before me for what seemed like a long time but could only have been a few seconds, and shook my head. "I'm in!"

His face stretched in a smile, but somehow it didn't sit well on his face, unlike Mr. Hot in the picture, the look alike model that was actually a scientist.

The man opened his jacket and brought out a phone which before my very eyes, was enlarged to form a mini laptop.

I watched as he tapped on some buttons and after some seconds, turned it round to face me. I saw the name of an escrow bank on the top corner and below it, was two and a half . . . I counted the number of zeros. I filled in the column for my offshore bank details and watched as he tapped on the send button. I smiled in satisfaction as I watched the cursor disappear and in it's place, a message popped up SENT.

"Inside the envelope you're holding are more details of him. Find him and end his life once and for all. My boss will be waiting impatiently tomorrow for the news. Do not contact me when you're done, trust me, my boss will find out."

He stood, tucked the phone back into his jacket, and without a goodbye, walked off.

Rude.

I looked at his retreating back until he disappeared from sight before I turned to Ron once again. "Another bottle, please. Oh, never mind." I picked up the bottle the man hadn't even touched. "I'll have his."

I downed the contents in five gulps and belched loudly. The man on my left poked his head out and smiled. "I like a woman that can throw back her liquor, and you seem to fit that bill. Care for a dance?"

I smiled and shrugged. Why not? I needed to dance to my victory of getting five million just like that. But as I got up, something about this deal didn't sit right with me. I couldn't pin point what it was, but as the night went on and I took more bottles of beer, the feeling left me and was quickly replaced with a feeling of euphoria.

I deserved this break, and so did Chito.

There was a loud ringing noise that won't let up. It was so shrill and bothersome. Even when I rolled to the other side of the bed, it persisted. I covered my ears with such force, I almost busted my eardrums.

"Uhhhh! Stop that infernal noise."

It stopped miraculously and I was able to breath easier, but just when I was about to turn, it started up once again.

"Will you please stop your alarm clock, it's messing with my sleep." I woke with a start to see Chito beside my bed, hair mussed, eyes red and heavy from lack of sleep.

Pity coursed through me. I was sure he had not been able to sleep since, and here I was messing it up. I rolled over and hit the off button on my beside alarm. "Sorry, buddy, I thought I was dreaming. Try and get some sleep."

I rolled to the other side, intent on catching some more shut eye, but after a few minutes of tossing and turning, I gave up and opened my eyes. I got out of bed and was shocked to see Chito still in the same place I had left him in front of my bed.

"Buddy, what are you still doing here? Your chair got jammed again?" I bent to check his wheel chair but it seemed fine to me after a brief inspection.

I stood and looked at him noting how his brows were squeezed tightly and there were tell tale track marks of tears on his checks. I was on my knees in front of him in an instant. "What's wrong? Does something hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

He just shook his head and said nothing. I patted him down gently, exactly as the doctor had told me to do. "Your shots, where are they?"

He still said nothing. Instead he squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that had begun spilling out of them. It broke my heart to see my little brother cry. I couldn't take it anymore, and I knew I shouldn't have held him so tightly, but I couldn't help it. I hugged his bony frame to me. Doing that gave me some hope for the future.

"Don't go!" Came his teary voice against my chest a few seconds later.

I froze. How did he know I was going out? I hadn't told him anything about my going anywhere today, especially with it being a Saturday. Once I remembered the alarm, my limbs were released of the inertia that held them captive. That was it. The alarm. That's how he knew. "I've got to go to work so I can put food on the table, Chito. I promise you I won't be long."

It was his turn to freeze, so I moved back and lifted his head. He was all head and a bony frame. My heart broke and I resisted the urge to scream.

Why did he have to suffer so much? He who was pure and good. Why did mother have to die and leave me to fend for him? I was barely an adult myself but I had to face the responsibility of adulthood.

I shook my head at how unfortunate life was.

Chito lifted his tearstreaked face and gazed at me with somber brown eyes that had seen too much pain. "You're thinking of mama, aren't you?"

Couldn't he see that I needed to do this one last job so he could undergo the operation?

That's right, he couldn't, he thought I was just a mere teacher who taught high school kids English language.

I sighed and cleaned his face. "Tell you what I'll get a big fat burger, the greasy kind with plenty mayonnaise, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes and some pickles, oh, and a side of chips, on my way back, huh, huh. What you think about that?" I gently nudged him on his ribs.

"Mia, I dreamt you died." He delivered that last statement with so much seriousness I had to laugh.

When I came down from my laughter filled high, looked at him. "Me, die?" I shook my head vehemently. "I'm not going anywhere yet, buddy, at least not until you're well and good, and besides, I told you dreams don't mean anything, they're just there to make us realize we've got a soul, nothing more."

But he wasn't convinced, which wasn't new with Chito. He gave me one last puppy dog look before wheeling himself out of my room. I stayed that way for awhile before remembering I needed to get a move on. Out there was an impatient man waiting for results, and a scientist to be dealt with.

I got ready, which didn't take me much time, after brushing my teeth and putting on my work clothes which consisted of a black tee and black jeans. After that I debated on whether to pack my hair up or let it down.

"Whadaya think?" I asked my reflection in the mirror. I stuck my tongue out and made a funny face. "Down it is."

So I brushed my hair, marveling after all these years, at its soft texture. Once I had finished brushing it out rigorously, it trailed down my waist, heavy and long.

I got out my taser from where I hid it underneath my folded clothes in my drawer and tucked it into the sides of my boots.

As I made to leave my room, I saw it. The handmade bracelet Chito had given me on my last birthday. It seemed to wink at me from my bedside table, so I picked it and wore it.

I set my timer to twenty minutes as I picked up the keys to Sheba and left my room. I passed Chito's bedroom which was practically adjacent to mine, placed an ear against his door but didn't hear any noise. I lifted a hand to knock on it, but thought better of it.

It was better not to disturb him, he was probably asleep anyway.

I shook my head and quietly walked down the stairs. At the kitchen, I jugged down a bottle of water as I was patched and needed hydration. As I walked into the sitting room, my mind was on the mission ahead. Yesterday, I had been a bit too hasty to agree to do the hit today. I always took my time to study the pattern of the person I had to off so as to know the best way to go about

I dropped to the ground when I saw movement at the window and rolled towards it. The silhouette of a woman passed the window and continued on. I rushed to look out and was just in time to see Mrs. Robinson, my nosy neighbor walking to her garden.

I heaved a sigh of relief and walked out to the garage.

"Hello, Sheba." She sat looking at me with big orange eyes. I got a hold of a rag and cleaned a stain on her, then I patted her on the head. "Ready for another adventure?"

I started the engine of my Harley Davidson bike and revved it, making a hellish noise as I drove out of the garage. Mrs. Robinson looked up in fright like she always did anytime I rode out with Sheba.

"Bye, Mrs. Robinson." I smirked, driving past her and revving Sheba's engine, right before I put on my ray ban glasses.

I saw her snort of disapproval as I sped off leaving her coughing in the wake of the smoke from my exhaust. As I got onto the road, I blanked my mind and opened my chakra, exactly as I had been taught, and exactly as I had done ever since. It helped me have some foreshadowing of what was to come. As I swam through my perceptions, ready to latch on to what was ahead, something dark railroaded my senses. I mentally shrugged it away, but it was like a veil that refused to go.

Try as hard as I could, it refused to leave my front, and so by the time I got to the freeway, I was already upset and my thoughts were all over the place.

Somewhere inside me the reluctant part of me knew I should have gone back, but I have always been stubborn, and apart from that, I had a briefcase full of two and a half million quid cooling off in my weapons place, and another two and another half in my offshore account.

I didn't want to release them anytime soon. Make that never.

The funny feeling persisted all through my ride. It only ebbed when I hit a patch of traffic. Cars were lined up on four rows, back to back, jam packed. I looked down at Sheba and smirked. "Ready for some action?"

I thought I heard her purr, so I wore my helmet cause it was about to get nasty. When I saw a leeway as cars began to move, I stepped on the accelerator and Sheba surged forward. I bent her to the side just in time before another car could helm her in and turned left. I was however stopped by two jeeps on either side of me a few paces in front.

Music poured out from the one on the left. From the corner of my eyes, I saw there were four male teenagers inside. From the gold chains hanging around their necks to the piercings in their ears and tattoos on their hands, I could clearly know they were either going for a party or just coming from one. Either way, I wasn't ready for their nonsense.

I heard the whir of the window as it came down and one of them stuck his head out. "Hey, mamacita, how 'bout you come down from that bike and I can give you a ride to wherever."

The rest of the guys in the car hollered like they'd never seen a woman wearing all black and had red hair before in their lives. I ignored their stupidity and stared straight ahead, but then the window of the Jeep on my right, wound down, and a man poked his head out. "Those kids disturbing you?"

Here's the thing? I didn't like young boys who thought they were God's gift to women, neither did I like men who had saviour complexes, so I ignored the both of them.

The traffic began to ease as cars started moving and before they could say 'holla,' I sped off amidst annoying cat calls from the kids.

Didn't anyone teach them to be respectful to their elders?

I smirked as Sheba surged to life beneath me, angry she had been idle for so long.

"Atta, girl, that's the spirit."

It was free sailing after that, until I came across a red light and had to stop once more. Where I was going wasn't far. I needed some supplies, plus I was running out of time.

The window of opportunity flashed before me. Timer on the red light was still forty seconds away. "Come on, come on, come on." But it was taking ages. Thirty five seconds left.

It was now or never. I revved the engine and Sheba sprang to life beneath my hands and surged forward.

Too late, I didn't see the incoming truck. I tried to break but I was too close. The last thing I remembered before the head on collision were Chito's words.

I dreamt you died.

Her fever had broken sometime in the early hours of the morning and she had finally stopped clutching her stomach, but the worst was not over. As doeeyed as I was and as much as I wanted it to be so, I couldn't hide away from the fact anymore.

My wife was dying.

The truth grabbed me by the hair and slapped me in the face. That was when the hysteria came. I lurched out of our room, the same room we had spent many nights making love and planning for the future. I didn't know when I stumbled into junior's room, a room that had never housed a child. A child that was killing my wife.

After that, the pain came back in full force. Worse than before.

The car jerked to a stop, breaking me out of my reverie.

"Boss, we have a situation upfront."

I groaned and opened my eyes to see chaos. A short distance ahead of us a crowd of people had gathered, but try as much as I craned my neck, I couldn't see anything. I checked my time. I only had ten minutes to spare. I couldn't not make the meeting on time.

"Stay!" I said to Eric, and got down from the car.

I had only gone four paces forward when I stopped and looked down at the clothes I was wearing. Blue tailored pinstriped trouser suit with gold cufflinks worn with pure leather crocodile loafers. I looked around the neighborhood we had stopped and thought better of my hairbrained idea of going to check out what the problem was.

As I still stood, pondering over what to do, an ambulance arrived and the crowd opened up to allow them carry the stretcher through. I caught a glimpse of a woman lying on the ground, her head twisted in an awkward angle, and then blood, so much blood, it put Aretha's problem to shame. And then the crowd was closing in on her once again.

It didn't take long before the police came next, blaring their sirens to my consternation. They cordoned off the area around the woman.

I waited. I don't know why. It wasn't like I hadn't seen blood before, but just watching that woman lying inert on the ground brought something to life inside of me. To my left was a long haulage trailer. All the huge containers on it were on the ground and their contents had been spilled all over the ground. Oil. That made passing this route impossible.

I turned and walked back to my car, but something caught my attention and I stopped and turned back. Underneath the trailer, a woman's purse lay. A few meters beside it lay some other items scattered in the dirt, obviously spilled from it. I knew the purse belonged to the woman who was lying bleeding out on the ground.

I didn't want to think about it because if I did, I probably wouldn't have rushed towards the trailer. I saw a part where the police hadn't cordoned off, and I slid underneath. I knelt down and assessed what lay scattered around on the dirt. A lipstick, her social security card and a few other knick knacks women put in their purses. I picked them all up and put them back into her purse.

As I turned, ready to walk away with her purse, something else caught my eyes, something that lay a few paces away. A picture. I bent and crawled towards it, intent on just picking it and shoving it inside the purse when I froze. Within the lines and pixels of the picture, lay a familiar face that stared back up at me.

My face.

I looked in wonder and shock at it.

How did my picture get here?

What was it doing lying in the dirt beneath a trailer?

Unless. . .

The wheels in my mind began to spin. I spun round and looked over to where the crowd had begun to thin out around the woman. The paramedics had put her on a stretcher and had her neck supported by a brace.The fact that she wasn't dead didn't mean she was going to last till the next morning.

I shook my head to rid it of my morbid thoughts and began the calculations from the distance where she lay to where the trailer stood.

Once I was done, I came to the conclusion that my picture was inside the woman's purse and because of the impact of the collision with the trailer, it flew out and landed a few meters from it.

That was the only plausible reason I could see and think of.

I knew what I had to do.

I pocketed my picture, grabbed her purse from the ground where I had dropped it, and got out from under the trailer. I intercepted the ambulance as they were about closing the door.

"Hi! My name is Alexander Moore." I brought out my company ID card and showed it to the woman. "She's my secretary." I pointed to the woman on the stretcher.

The lie had jumped easily to my lips.

The woman glanced briefly at me from top to bottom and then she looked at me again, this time slower. "What did you say your name was?"

My brows squeezed together. "Moore. Alex Moore."

The woman took a step back and looked behind me. "Where are your bodyguards?"

"My who?" What was she mouthing off about?

"You mean you don't move around with bodyguards?" She looked at my ID card still in her hands and then looked up at me. A look of reverence jumped into her eyes. "It's really you, Mr. Alexander Moore of Raften pharmaceuticals. I'm so pleased to meet you, you don't know how much of an honor it is to see you in the flesh, and you're such a simple man as well."

I didn't know what I would do if she continued her blabbering.

Her colleague joined us, his brows squeezed together. "What's the hold up about?"

I collected my ID card back from the woman and faced the man. "My secretary." I bobbed my head towards the back of the ambulance.

I saw the respect instantly jump into his eyes as he looked me up and down. "You can follow us behind, sir, we're going to Almond hospital on 23, Creek road, it's actually not far from here."

I nodded. I briefly remembered seeing a hospital on the drive here.

I fastwalked to my car. "Change of plans, Eric, follow that ambulance."

"But, boss, what about your meeting?" Eric glanced at me from the rear view mirror. I could see the shock lining his eyes.

"I'll call Kelly to cancel. This is important."

I saw the struggle in his eyes to continue arguing, but he chose the wise route and didn't. "As you wish, boss."

I nodded to myself and sank back into the plush leather seats as Eric made a Uturn and began following the ambulance closely. I had begun to feel the effect of not sleeping at all.

Aretha always said. . .

I shook my head to stop myself from thinking of her. Instead, I focused on why a recent picture of mine, the one that had been taken during the Tokyo seminar of the scientists, was doing in the purse of a woman I had never set my eyes on before.

I had a very good memory, one that helped me get to the level I was at today. I racked my brain to see if she had been among the protocol team that welcomed us last year, but I came up empty.

Then maybe an overzealous woman that came for an interview as a lab assistant a month ago?

Naah! Couldn't be. How could she even have gotten my picture in the first place?

From one of the many magazines in the lobby on which my face was splayed on. Yeah, but the picture I currently had in my possession was a real picture, not cut out from a magazine.

I gave up when all of the options I thought off fell through.

After about twenty minutes of moving behind the ambulance, the hospital loomed ahead, big and daunting. I gritted my teeth in frustration. I had enough of hospitals to last me a lifetime. I watched as the two men came down from the ambulance and opened the door at the back. Three nurses poured out through the hospital doors to assist them, and they wheeled the unresponsive woman on the stretcher inside.

I gave them ten minutes to find her an available room, hook her up to the IV and take her vitals before I came down from the car. I stretched, arching my back and sighing in pleasure as a bone popped into place in my waist.

It was show time.

I strolled to the front desk and pasted on my 'showman' smile. The lady behind it blushed and immediately directed me to the emergency ward. There, I encountered another administrative officer who seemed immune to my smile. She, however, directed me to a doctor who explained to me the situation with the woman that had just been brought in.

"You say she's your staff, Mr. . ."

"Moore, Alexander Moore, CEO of Raften Pharmaceuticals."

Once again, respect danced into his eyes and he became more aware of his words.

"I'm afraid your staff doesn't look to be in good health. She's got blunt head trauma caused by the headon collision when she hit the ground. The reason why she's not yet dead is because she was wearing a helmet. The accident would definitely have caused her other bodily harm which I haven't yet ascertained. For now, she's not yet out of the woods so we're observing her."

"Please, see you give her an allaroundtheclock observation. I'll pay for all and any bills accrued. Matter of fact, I'll leave a check before I go that will cover all the expenses, and if there's any more, this is my card, don't hesitate to call me."

The doctor took the card from me and nodded. I didn't know why I did it, I didn't know the woman from Adam but I was curious about how she had gotten my picture.

Call it fate or stupidity, but I didn't want her to die.

The doctor said he would call and update me in the evening about her situation, if anything changed.

I left the hospital feeling better than I had felt ever since Aretha was diagnosed with womb cancer.

The call came in the night while I was fast asleep holding Aretha. It was one of those rare moments where she had not thrashed all through the night. I checked that she was still breathing and quietly slipped out of bed making sure not to wake her. It wasn't everyday I got to have the luxury of holding her close, so naturally I was upset when once I got into junior's bedroom, I picked the call.

"Hello, is this Mr. Moore?" The strange clinical voice asked.

After revealing my identity to the caller, he introduced himself as doctor Rogers from Almond hospital. I had a flash back of a medium sized man in a blue scrub underneath a white lab coat.

"I'm afraid the diagnosis doesn't look too encouraging, sir. Your secretary has blunt head trauma, five cracked ribs a fractured hip and a punctured lung. She might not last tonight. Even if she does, it will be extensive work to make her whole again; she will need physiotherapy to learn how to work again, she might or might not have breathing problems, and she will definitely not remember who she was before this whole accident, that is if she even recovers from this at the end of the day."

Something about the doctor's tone made me think he preferred her dead.

"Is she on life support?" I asked curtly.

"No, but"

"Then she still has a good chance of making it out alive." There was silence on the other line, confirming my suspicions. "Let me reiterate this doctor, I will cover all the expenses there, and I want her to have a fighting chance. There might even be a bonus for you if she makes it out alive, but . . .if I found out there has been any hanky panky, however small, then. . ."

I left him to figure out what I could do if he decided to misbehave.

"Yes, sir, alright, sir, I will do all in my power to help her get a quick recovery." He blabbered on.

"See that you do." And I cut the call. Fatigue flooded my veins. I was tired, tired of having to fight off greedy people.

I knew for a fact there was a cabal of doctors that sold the parts of people who were on the verge of dying, or those it seemed that didn't have a chance at life. I also knew there were those doctors, the more cutthroat one's, who didn't mind going the extra mile to exterminate their patients in a bid to become rich. They sold these parts to people who were terminally ill and didn't mind paying through their teeth to get good health.

It was a hot dirty business, getting rich at the expense of people's lives, and I hated the thought of it.

I walked back to my room, ready to snuggle behind Aretha, when her body jerked and she began to moan. I checked her temperature and found out she was burning up. Peace was short lived. The saga had started once again. I sighed as I walked into the bathroom to get a wash clothe.

I was about ready to keel over when I walked into the meeting an hour late. With little time to spare after tending to Aretha, I hadn't had time to even open my wardrobe to pick a suit. The clothes I wore the day before beckoned to me from the chair where I had hastily thrown them, so in my haste I had donned them. Looking at the disapproving faces of the ten men seated before me now, that was obviously a big mistake.

"Mr. Moore." Mr. Hendricks pulled his bifocal glasses down the length of his nose and fixed his steely gaze on me. "Your behavior recently has been very disgraceful. You waltz in here looking like you spent the night with a harlot, you stink of alcohol, and worse still, you act like you own the damn building."

I smirked on hearing this. "I do own this building."

He visibly swallowed and looked away, but not before I saw the disgusted look he gave me.

"What Mr. Hendricks is trying to say is, you lack feelings, Mr. Moore, how do you expect us to endorse your drug when you can't even get your life in check?"

"And who are you?" I removed the dark glasses from my face and squinted at him.

"Preposterous!" Another of the suitwearing men exclaimed.

As if in planned sync, they all got up one by one, grumbling at the top of their voices and headed towards the door. One of them huffed as he passed me.

"You're not welcome." I shouted once they had left the board room.

I slumped into the seat Mr. Hendricks had just vacated and stared balefully at the table. The unopened water bottles were the only audience to how stupid I had just been.

Clap, clap, clap, clap!

The sound of someone clapping were like gunshots to my ears, and I held my hands over them. Kelly came into view. She stood with her hands akimbo watching me. The expression 'she could murder me with her eyes,' swam into my head, and I blinked rapidly to focus on her face.

"I do hope you're happy now, Mr. Moore. All the years of planning and you just messed it up in only a few minutes. You should be very pleased with yourself right now."

Never in all the ten years Kelly had worked for me had she called me Mister Moore. Matter of fact, I had insisted she call me by my name as well as the rest of my staff.

For her to use mister and my surname in the same sentence to address me, that meant she was pretty upset with me.

I should have said something, but all I did was stare at her, trying to figure out how I was going to solve the shit I had steeped myself into. No one knew about Aretha's illness, neither did I want to make it public. I was a very private man and I also hated pity. That was why I had never gotten a nurse to look after her. I paid the housekeeper extra to do the job, but even she had other duties to attend to, so for six months, I had been cutting back on work and going home to be with her.

Yes, Yes, work suffered, it suffered terribly, but my wife came first. Last night had been the worst of it all, Aretha had groaned all through, and not even the morphine had helped dull the pain she was in. When I couldn't take her rising screams any longer, I had drowned out the noise by taking a shot of vodka. One shot turned into two, and then three. I later found myself downing the whole bottle.

Later on I drove Aretha to the hospital and had her checked into the ICU, like doctor Perry had initially advised. After she had been somewhat stabilized, I had driven like a madman to the office because Kelly called reminding me the representatives from the Department of Justice's drug enforcement administration had already assembled and were getting impatient.

It was only when I had driven halfway there that I forgot I had sent Eric to buy me some coffee and I had forgotten to alert him I was leaving the hospital.

I wouldn't even have come into work today had Kelly not called to remind me. I noticed she was staring at me like I was a wild animal from the zoo. I also knew she had been waiting for a response from me, but when I said nothing, she shook her head the same way someone would when they're disappointed.

"Well then, since you don't think you owe me an explanation, get ready to hire another assistant because I quit."

And she flounced out of the boardroom, heels clacking on the tiled floor.

That's right, Kelly, walk away like the others just did, like Aretha is eventually going to.

Everyone walks away from me eventually.

I wallowed in self pity as I slumped further into the chair.

Aretha's condition took a turn for the worse and I was called in by the specialist. One look at her and I knew she wasn't going to last the night. He left me alone by her bedside but all I could do was stand and stare.

She was all skin and bones having stopped eating over a month ago. She lay asleep looking deceptively peaceful, but I knew that was only a ruse, for when the pain came, it was like an avalanche. I didn't know when my feet moved me forward and I knelt in front of her and caressed her balding head.

She opened her eyes and in a moment of clarity, smiled at me. "I love you, Alex."

I smiled through the tears in my eyes, happy she had recognized me, but a few seconds later, she closed her eyes and drew her last breath.

"No, no, no, no, you can't leave me, you can't." I got a hold of her and shook her hoping she would wake and tell me 'surprise' like she used to do when she was hale and hearty.

Unfortunately, that never happened.

I broke down completely, sobbing and begging her to wake up and talk to me. That's how the nurses met me, cradling my wife's lifeless body in my arms. After awhile, they eventually had to beg me to release her so they could put her in the morgue.

That night I drove all the staff away from the house and locked myself up. I was inconsolable on Aretha's passing. For the next three days, I couldn't eat, neither could I sleep. I drowned myself in vodka and thereafter went about shattering things in the house. I knew what I was doing was wrong but I just couldn't help myself even if I tried.

A week later, Kelly broke into the house and tidied things up. I was like a dummy as I stared at her. She spoke but I could not hear her. She threatened but I was past caring. The pain was so sharp, so rife, I might as well have committed suicide and gone to be with Aretha.

Nothing Kelly did made sense to me. A part of me wandered how she had gotten into the house and even known about Aretha's passing in the first place, but I was too befuddled to ponder on it for long. She brought me food but I couldn't even look at it. I was too hurt, too pained, and too empty to think or function.

The love of my life had left me and all I wanted to do was die.

Kelly became my shadow. She didn't let me out of her sight. I guess she was scared I would kill myself. I almost did.

One day she coerced me to shave, because, and in her own words; I looked like a cave man. But when I stood in front of the mirror with the shaving stick in my hand, I had this sudden urge to put it to my throat and draw it across my skin from one end to another.

And I did.

Till this day, I have a red puckered scar right underneath my throat as a testament to that day.

Perhaps, Kelly couldn't stand my moping any longer because she sat me down one day to talk to me about Aretha's burial, at least she tried to. All I did was stare straight ahead into space. I didn't hear a lick of what she said. The only thing I remembered was her sigh and her telling me to nod if it was okay.

Funny, I don't remember the question she asked, still, I nodded.

And that's how days later, I found myself staring down at the yawning black hole a few paces in front of me with an already prepared speech in my hand.

As I read, my mind began to play out scenes from years before.

"I had just come from school, tired and hungry, coupled with the fact that my baseball game hadn't gone well. I was about opening the wicket gate to walk into the house when from the corner of my eyes I saw you. A sun kissed goddess with long legs and short kinky Afro hair. My hunger was forgotten momentarily as I trailed you with my eyes. You walked into the house directly opposite mine, blissfully unaware that Cupid had just shot me with his love arrow.

I trailed you everywhere and found out you were in the same high school as mine. You were actually a new student. I summoned the courage to approach you and begged you to tell me your name. You smiled, that lopsided smile of yours that showcased your dimples to perfection. I knew that day I would make you my wife."

Tears filled my eyes and I struggled to blink them away. I looked up at the blinding sun and gathered the strength I needed. I felt Aretha's spirit was near, urging me and giving me the courage to continue so I went on reading.

"With nothing but a few cents to my name and a big dream, we walked down the aisle a few years later. When I saw you strutting towards me in your peacock yellow wedding dress, defying the norm of wearing a white wedding dress, it had cracked me up. I knew I had made the right decision to marry you."

I was silent once again as I remembered how I had come home late to see the devastating report that changed everything. I felt my bodyguards behind me move back respectfully as they tried to give me some privacy.

I looked down at the paper and sighed because I still had some more to say to her.

"I just never knew that one day you would fall under this same disease I was trying to get rid of. If only you had fought hard, baby. If only you had fought and waited for me to actualize the last chemicals. If only you could have just held on, but it was too late. Too late for you."

"Someone once said we all have a six feet hole waiting for us in the ground. That person hit the nail on the head."

I shook my head in misery as tears filled my eyes.

"You weren't supposed to die, at least not just yet. You weren't supposed to go at such a tender age of just twenty eight. You were supposed to stay and give birth to our kids. You were supposed to stay so I could love and cherish you like I had always done, up till the very last minute. You were meant to grow old with me, to watch our kids grow into adults and let them do the looking after of us."

"Alas! You've gone to a place where I can't reach you, can't hold you, can't be with you, can't love you like I desperately want to."

My knees buckled and I found myself slumping. Had it not been for strong hands of my bodyguards that held me on either side, I probably would have joined Aretha in the ground they were presently lowering her body into.

A flash suddenly went off in my face, momentarily blinding me. I looked up to see several camera men jostling for space. My heart sank. I knew my face would be splashed all over the newspapers the next day.

I looked to my two trusted bodyguards standing alert beside me. "Get me out of here."

"Yes, boss." They guided me towards where my car was parked, but I was shocked to see it was already surrounded by paparazzi. I would never make it inside without virtually being eaten alive by them.

"Change of plans, boss, please follow me." Hugo, the one on the right said to me.

He removed the baseball hat on his head and put it on mine. I understood it was to disguise me, and it did the trick when I was told to walk way from them and past my car.

I did just that and the paparazzi did not follow me.

Once I settled inside a cab, a sob caught in my throat and despair crawled into my chest.

My wife was gone and I would never see her again in this life.

Loneliness and despair took their turn on me as I wept.

I woke the following morning wondering how I had gotten into my bed. Memories of the day before assailed me and despair hit me all over again like a flower in full bloom.

I closed my eyes as tears filled them. I was too damn emotional for a man. I squeezed my eyelids, feeling the pain flare up behind them. I sighed and opened them again. All around me, traces of Aretha had all but vanished. The matching golden filigree bedside lamps she bought, the two gilt high backed chairs in front of the bed, the pure cotton bedsheets she favored over the silk one's I preferred. Even her clothes, shoes and all of her ornaments, every single item, I had given to charity.

They were a painful reminder of what was meant to be, but wasn't.

My eyes widened when they fell on the curtains.

Who in their right mind would agree to have sunshiny yellow curtains?

Aretha, that's who.

She had always loved the colour yellow. Not just any shade of yellow. It had to be the exact shade of the sun yellow with strains of burnt orange mixed into it.

I groaned and shut my eyes, once more willing the memories to stop. The strain of squeezing my eyes shut caused a headache to flare up. I opened them once again and they settled on the backdrop behind the curtains. Leaves, green and vibrant with dewy drops on each one, gaped at me. The quintessential evergreen forest.

Aretha's choice, yet again.

That had to go.

I clapped my hands and I heard the whir of the gears as it flipped, changing to another backdrop. I smiled as I saw the replacement. Snowcapped mountains topped with high peaks and sleek mounds.

That's better.

But the feeling only lasted for a few minutes, and it was back to the clawing despair in my chest.

"Wake up, Aretha."

"Good morning, Alex, what can I get you?" She came into view. A humanoid robot with a weight of eighty pounds of steel, Aluminium and Kevlar, equipped to carry on a conversation of human intelligence in three different languages. It was also equipped to carry and fetch things.

Believe me when I say it didn't come cheap.

"Go get my morning tea from the cook, and don't spill it."

"I will try not to, Alex." She replied before walking away.

I lay on my bed and tried not to think of Aretha. When I first got the robot, it was actually a gift for her. She would spend hours talking to it about anything and everything. When she asked me what name we should call it, I told her it was entirely in her hands.

I came back from work one day to see her referring to herself in the third person. I was shocked to know she had given the robot her own name. In order not to confuse them, she named it Aretha 2.

"I am sorry for your loss, Alex." The robot appeared by my bedside, a few minutes later, startling me.

When had it become this silent?

I realized I must have been too deep in thought to notice her arrival. It held a tea cup in it's hand and a newspaper in the other.

I collected the cup filed with tea and put it on the bedside table, then I snatched the newspaper from it's hand and threw it to the other side of the bed. I didn't need to see my face splashed all over the front page. I had already seen it all over the news on four different channels. That was enough for me.

"Does it hurt?"

I looked up to see the robot still standing by my bedside and looking at me. "Does what hurt?"

It blinked, those human lookalike eyes that seemed to see straight into my soul. "The death of Aretha1, my best friend."

I sighed, resisting the urge to tell it to go to hell. "I don't want to talk about it, please let me be."

"But you need to talk about it, Alex, bottling up your feelings will only make things worse for you."

Anger surged through me as I raised my forefinger in the air, but then it dropped limply to the bed. It was only a robot made to converse. It was just doing what it was meant to do. After all, it had watched me tending to Aretha all the while she was sick.

But I couldn't deal with any more talk of Aretha and her passing. What I needed was peace. I also needed to be left alone. I got up and opened up a section of its head where all the information lay in a microchip, and switched it off.

"Goodbye, Alex." It said before shutting down.

"Goodbye." I replied, already exhausted from talking too much.

I stared balefully at the tea cup I had placed on the bedside table. I didn't feel like drinking its contents anymore.

I took a shower and got dressed. Then I called Eric and told him to bring the car to the front. I had a business that needed me now more than ever.

As I walked into the employee's work area, slack jaws and open mouths assailed me. Most of them stood halfway and followed me with their eyes.

I walked to the middle and turned, anger surging through me. "Is there no one here who has manners? Did you all forget them at home?"

"I. . . I beg your pardon, Mr. Moore." A man standing close to me started. "We weren't expecting to see you at the office."

"And why is that?" I knew exactly why he had said it but I still wanted him to say it out loud.

That was if he dared to.

I think common sense took over them all, because choruses of good morning filled the air. I nodded and walked off towards my office. Hardly had I gotten inside when the door opened and a gasp echoed.

"So it's true?"

I walked to my chair, removed my jacket and draped it on it before addressing the person. "Good morning to you, Kelly."

"What are you doing here? You should be at home mourning your wife who was buried just two days ago."

"I thought you quit? What are you still doing hanging around and giving me motivational speeches?" I fired back.

"People are talking, by you know, they say it's not right for you to be here so soon after your wife's death."

I knew my words sounded cold and indifferent, but no one except me knew how much I suffered from Aretha's death.

A steely gaze took over her soft features. "This is not you. You've become a cold, unfeeling bastard, Mr. Moore."

She turned on her heels and walked out of my office, banging the door in the process.

Some time later, I found myself at my lab and the same shocked looks from my employees there. I was already over it. I walked through security, nodding curtly as they stammered out greetings. Luckily, no paparazzi had assailed me at the gate. That's probably because I gave Hugo some of my clothes to wear in order for him to paint the town red by visiting different bars.

So the tabloids were going crazy, painting me as a reckless, heartless bastard with no morals whatsoever.

That suited me just fine.

I placed my key card against the door and it beeped me in.

All around, employees, hard at work in various postures, stopped what they were doing and gaped at me, shock lining every corner of their faces. No doubt, the news must have gotten to them as well.

Simon broke away from his post and approached me. "Good morning, Mr. Moore, please accept my condo"

"What's the progress with Exceva?" I cut him shut with a wave of my hand as I kept walking towards the section of the lab where I knew the solution that would eventually become Exceva was.

He jogged to catch up with me. From the corner of my eyes, I noticed a splash of red had risen on his checks but it quickly faded. "As you know, we changed the other compound which was unstable to thymoquinone because we found out it had hepatoprotective, antiinflammatory, and "

"Antioxidant properties. Yes, I know. Tell me something I don't know." I stopped directly in front of the shelves where the final solution was bottled.

If this thymoquinone remained stable with the other compounds in the solution, then I had on my hands a miracle working drug that would beat cancer in the early stages without causing any long or short term effect to the human body.

The solution had first been injected into rabbits with early stage cancer and it had stopped the growth. Next, we tried it out on monkeys who had been injected with cancers cells, and the solution had also stopped the growth.

We had yet to try it out on any human being, but I was informed by the team yesterday that we already had ten men willing to be injected with the solution. They had been diagnosed with cancer and it was still in its early stages. I already knew without a doubt, it would work.

As Simon reeled off the other reasons, I looked round at the lab.

This is it, Aretha, it's coming to life. We did this, baby, yet you're not even here to see it take shape.

" Mr. Moore, Mr. Moore, can you hear me?"

As if from far away, I heard Simon call my name. I blinked and his face came into view. "Yeah. . . yes, I heard you, I just. . .good work, Simon. So when do you think we can send it to the manufacturing section?"

He squinted his eyes in thought. "All things being equal, if Thymoquinone keeps behaving itself, two weeks, tops, and in a month's time, we would have Exceva ready for the world."

He beamed proudly and I managed a smile. I was happy I had hired him. His expertise as head molecular biologist was invaluable. Infact, my whole team was highly invaluable.

My joy was however tainted when I remembered how I had messed up last week with the Department of justice's drug enforcement administration.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, startling me out of my thoughts. "Yes, Kelly, what is it?"

"I just got off the phone with Mr. Hendricks. He said the DEA will give you a second chance. In his exact words Don't fuck it up this time around."

"Good job, Kelly, you'll get a raise at the end of the month." But she had already cut the call.

Bitch!

". . .so I punched him in the face."

"But why did you punch him in the face, Mr. Moore?" The policeman cocked his head like he was expecting to hear something along the lines of well, because after x and y, the next alphabet wasn't z.

I stifled the look of irritation creeping up on my face and answered tiredly. "Because he was badmouthing my wife and talking about her in a disrespectful way. You don't get to talk bad about a man's wife and expect not to get punched in the face."

The five police men looked at each other and nodded. "He's right." One of them announced.

"But where were you exactly?" The one in the middle asked.

I lifted my hands that were propped on my knees and put them on the table. The policemen close to my left must have thought I was going to bring out a weapon or something, because his hand went to the waistband of his trousers and hovered there. When he saw all I did was change posture, he relaxed, but I noticed his attention was drawn to my knuckles.

Part of the skin on them was scraped and they were caked with blood.

The paparazzo's blood.

It gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I opened my mouth and began to relay exactly why I was sitting in front of a fiveman panel at the police station.

Three hours earlier, I had just left my lab. You know that feeling that comes with a sense of accomplishment?

Best feeling ever!

It bubbled to the surface and pushed the grief that kept plaguing me to the back burner. But it wasn't just a sense of accomplishment I felt, it was of relief as well. Relief that what I had set out to do would finally come to an end, and all my expectations would be established.

After ten long years of back breaking research and holing myself up with my team in the lab day in and day out, it was finally here.

The end result.

Exceva would be birthed.

Finally.

What tied everything up was the call I got from Kelly.

Naturally, the first person I thought to got to with the news was Aretha. I remembered she loved the colour yellow, and fresh yellow tulips were her favorite flowers. When she was alive, I always got them for her. I wasted no time, for once I left the lab, I went straight to the nearest florist.

Luckily, there was one on the same street the laboratory was situated at, so I headed there.

To my disappointment, the florist said she had just sold the last batch of yellow tulips and would I like to take the red or the pink one's?

I told her I didn't want any other colour apart from yellow. She advised me to go for the yellow roses instead, because they technically represented the same things which were peace, love and joy. I agreed and picked two bouquets of yellow roses.

While she was ringing them up, I noticed a coy smile appear on her face and I knew what would happen next. She looked up at me and smiled. "Forgive my asking this, but these roses are for a special someone, I believe?"

"Yes, they are." I replied a little curtly but followed it with a smile to tamper down my words.

She was quiet for a bit. Even though her fingers practically raced across the keypad, I wondered why she was taking so long in registering the flowers. I had the sneaky feeling she was stalling in order to ask me further questions. Then she looked up, and that coy smile sat wider on her face. "She must be something special."

It was my turn to smile coyly. "Oh, my wife definitely is, but now she's dead."

As her mouth fell open, I picked up the bouquet of flowers from where they lay on the counter and walked out. I wasn't ready to listen to her sympathy. Once I got into the car, I told Eric to take me to Rose garden cemetery where Aretha was buried. Some minutes later when we got there, I took out the package beside me as well as the two bouquets of yellow roses and left the car. Eric proffered his help in carrying them but I shook my head.

This was something I needed to do on my own.

As I walked forward, I felt the unwelcome presence of despair once again. It's cloying tentacles rose to take root in the centre of my chest and I felt the beginnings of a headache at my temples. I saw the caretaker in the distance but avoided his eyes. I didn't want anyone's company except Aretha's.

As I walked my way to the back where she lay, I saw a couple to my right. They spoke quietly as they knelt with their heads bowed low in front of a tombstone. I knew it wasn't any of my business, but I looked anyway. Anything to keep the despair at bay that was making it's way to my throat and clogging it.

My mouth fell open when I saw the year on the tombstone I closed my eyes in pain for them. The person in the grave must have been their child. I shook my head to try to clear it of my sad thoughts and kept moving forward.

Aretha's tombstone reared up suddenly and I realized I had spaced out on the short distance here.

"Hello, my love." I placed the package on the ground and put the yellow roses on her tomb. "Short time no see." I chuckled mirthlessly.

"So I wrote a little something for you." I took out a piece of paper from inside my jacket. It was all crumpled and the ink had run into each other, messing up the words.

I couldn't for the life of me remember what I had written on it, but I'd be damned if I didn't try. I threw the crumpled paper away and cleared my throat like I was about to audition for a role in 'America's got talent.'

"Roses are yellow, violets are blue, you left me suddenly, but I'll always love you."

I shook my head, trying to rid it of the tears that sprang to my eyes. I smiled through them and got down on my hunches. I removed the bottle of wine and two glasses from the bag. After pouring a reasonable amount in each glass, I clinked the glasses and put her's on her tombstone.

"I got the best for you, babyDon perignon. Remember you always liked to take it with strawberries. I didn't bring any through."

I took a sip from my glass and grimaced. "You know I'm more of a hard liquor person." I chuckled once again.

I had suddenly become sweaty so I removed my jacket and draped it across my knee. "Remember when we went baby shopping because we found out you were expecting junior?" That was actually the beginning of our troubles. "We both had baby fever, because we just found out it was a boy, so you dragged me yes I dare say it."

I lifted a finger in the air, smiling as I remembered. "You dragged me to that store. Not the one close to the house, the big departmental one on district road where they sell wholesale baby stuff. You said since we were going to be rich anyway, thanks to Exceva, we should buy a year's worth of baby things."

The smile faded from my lips. "Good thing we never made it there. The call came just on time, the call that changed everything, the call that was the beginning of the end."

I shook my head, remembering it all. The memories flowed into my head like hot larva, smouldering everything they touched. "Perhaps it would have been better we never got married, just like mum said." I shook my head, annoyed at the words I had just uttered. "I've never been able to understand why certain people are so hooked on the colour of people's skins."

I looked down at her tombstone. "To me you were perfect, my love, and you would always remain perfect in this life and beyond."

I looked up and noticed the glass I poured for her was still full. "Drink, my love." I stood and poured it in front of her tombstone.

"My condolences, Mr. Moore."

I turned round sharply to see a man pointing a camera at my face. A flash went off, momentarily startling me. "Are you for real now? Can't a man mourn in peace?"

"Sorry for your loss, once again, but just to be clear, was your wife African American, 'cause I wasn't quite sure when I saw her pictures. She looked quite light to me. I had an argument with my friends that she was probably a mixture of a white dad and a black mum, but between you and I, maybe she was just using a lightening cream?"

The audacity of this man was ludicrous.

I didn't think, I just acted. I flung myself across the short distance to him and unleashed all my pent up anger on him. Each time my fist landed on his face, anger surged through me. Anger that Aretha had not lived long enough, anger towards myself for being angry, and anger towards a society that couldn't just live in peace with other people irrespective of the colour of another person's skin.

Over and over again, my fist met with his face until someone pulled me away. By then, his face was a bloody mass of pink and red.

When I looked up to see who still held my hand, it was the man who I had seen kneeling in front of his child's grave.

"Wow!" One of the policemen exclaimed when I finished relaying what happened.

Lesson number one: Money and power earns respect. That was probably why I wasn't in a jail cell right about now.

"He shouldn't have said those words." One of the policemen shook his head.

"No! He definitely shouldn't have." Another one reiterated.

"Would you like to press charges?" Another one piped up suddenly.

I sighed and shook my head. "That won't be necessary. I just need to go back to my wife. We still have a pending discussion." I shrugged.

"Of course, of course." They all chorused.

And I walked out into the waning sunlight.

Could this morning get any messier?

Twice, I had spilt tea on two different ties, and twice, I had changed them. Two charcoal grey ties that would have immediately screamed elegant.

I blamed the two cups of tea I had bingedrunk in a fit of anxiety. The offending items sat on my bedside table looking deceptively innocent.

The question that had been creeping into my head after I removed yet the second tie, was what was I going to wear?

I was meant to meet with some members from the DEA today at my laboratory and I didn't want to mess it up like I had done the last time. The first impression was nothing to write home about, so the second one had to be nearperfect.

"Why don't you wear another tie?" The robot asked from behind me.

I had put back the microchip I removed back into it's head because I felt guilty and wanted to apologize. Not to the robot, but to Aretha, my wife. I knew she wouldn't like me shutting down the gift I bought for her.

I stood in front of the full length mirror and looked hard at the charcoalgrey colored blazer I had on. Underneath it was a white shirt. Since the two ties that would have gone with the blazer had been stained, I didn't know what to do. I had planned this outfit in my head since I woke this morning but now it had fallen apart.

One of these items I had on had to go.

I moved to my wardrobe and began to check for another replacement. Behind me, the robot approached. "You have twenty different shades of grey ties, ten different shades of red, five shades of blue, and fifty different colors of mixed ties. Surely, you can choose one from any of them."

"You've been going through my things?" I turned round to face it, shocked it knew so much about my clothings.

It laughed an eerily human laugh, and its hands rose into the air. "Aretha made sure I memorized all of your things."

"Hmm!" I turned and began removing my blazer. "But she didn't teach you about colour coordination, obviously."

I removed the white shirt I had on and changed it to a navy blue one. I kept on the charcoal grey blazer and opted to go without a tie.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, I picked up my phone and the robot bid me goodbye as I walked out of the room.

The next few hours I spent briefing my staff at the lab about the DEA and how they needed to comport themselves when they came. If you knew scientists, you'd know we liked to stay in a relaxed environment while working, which meant jotters filled with notes were usually splayed all over the table, and some petri dishes and magnifying glasses were also jostling for space as well as various other canisters used in mixing various compounds.

Sometimes, explosions would take place, exactly as one did last week, due to the explosive properties of a particular compound, and well, it wasn't exactly a pretty sight for external eyes.

So repairs had been underway ever since Kelly dropped the bomb on me three days ago about the DEA giving me a second chance and guess what instead of coming on the day they said they would come, which was tomorrow, they decided to come today.

I tried not to lose my shit, and it worked mostly.

"Why is this place messy?"

Raymond, one of my Chemists, looked at me with eyes that were red and smarting. "We just cleaned that area twice."

I looked at it again and nodded. Sure enough, it looked clean. The coming of the DEA had gotten me hallucinating. I needed everything to be in tip top shape.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. "Hello, Kelly."

"They've arrived. They need to be cleared by security. For goodness' sake, Alex, nothing can go wrong today."

I nodded, like she could see me, and placed a call to the head security to give free clearance to the DEA. Five of my staff and I stood at the entrance of the door wearing big smiles as three of them approached. I recognized Mr. Hendricks and the other two, but I didn't see the rest.

I looked behind therm wonderingly, expecting to see more of them pouring in.

"Oh, it's just us three." Mr. Hendricks proffered. "We have a lot of inspections to do today so we had to divide ourselves."

My smile wavered. Did that mean their attention was being vied for in other laboratories, and for the same thing as well?

I couldn't answer that question. My team were already leading the three of them inside the laboratory. I followed behind, my initial ardor reduced. I felt like a deflated balloon and my attention had to be called back a few times by Mr. Hendricks when it wandered.

Simon took the lead as he led them around the research laboratory, pointing out the different equipments and giving them a little background story of how he was hired. As he spoke, his eyes lit up from within and they sparkled. His whole face transformed into something I had never seen.

That was when it hit me.

Simon was proud. As my head molecular biologist, I hired him when I had absolutely nothing except a big dream. Over the years, he had seen the myriad of trials and attempts it took before we finally settled on the final solution that would be called Exceva.

I heard pride in his words, but I wasn't the only one who heard it. My attention was drawn to Mr. Hendricks and the rest of his team. They listened avidly and asked questions as we moved round.

The laboratory sat on the entire length of one end of three plots of land to the other end. It was divided into three sections, namely the research, development and the testing section. Simon had just finished explaining to them about the different research going on as well as the different containers where the second and third solutions to follow Exceva were in. He further explained to them that it would be in three batches, starting with Exceva.

At the next section, my head chemist, Collins, took over. He talked about how different solutions were developed using both stable and unstable compounds in order to see how they would interrelate amongst themselves. I must say, I couldn't have explained to Mr. Hendricks and his team any better.

To say I was proud was a gross understatement.

The last and final section in the laboratory was the testing section which was basically the last and final stage. I stepped in and showed them round the cages where the rabbits and monkeys were kept. I talked about how we had injected only those who had cancerous growth with Exceva solution and how they had responded positively.

Even as I spoke, I was informed that five out of the ten people who were in the beginnings of various cancer growths, were around and waiting to be injected.

I turned to Mr. Hendricks. "Would you, by any chance, like to witness the first human specimens being injected with Exceva solution?"

"I believe I speak for all of us when I say we would very much like to see this." He looked at the other two who were already nodding vigorously.

Simon led them to a section of the laboratory that was cordoned off from the rest of the testing lab. It had a floor to ceiling wide screen. As we watched, five men were led inside to seats. They still looked healthy, which meant the cancer cells in them were still at an early stage.

After taking their statistics and checking their blood pressures, they were told to roll up their sleeves and one of my lab technicians cleaned the tender area on the inside of their arms. I held my breath as I watched Exceva solution being injected into each of them.

Mr. Hendricks and his team were meant to observe the men for at least an hour. They watched for half of that time before they said they had seen enough.

As I escorted them out, Mr. Hendricks turned to me. "I heard about the death of your wife, please accept my condolences." He looked at his other two colleagues as they walked on and moved closer to me. "When I heard about it, I felt we needed to give you another chance, and I'm glad we did." He looked back at where we had just come out from. "You'll definitely be hearing from us."

I shook his hand and watched as he joined his colleagues, my heart heavy at the mention of Aretha's passing.

Help! I need an antidote for anxiety.

It had been one week. One week of twiddling my fingers and wearing my carpet thin. One week of not hearing back from the DEA.

I was almost foaming at the mouth. Everyday like clockwork, I would get to the office before anyone, because I was going stircrazy at home amongst my staff. I probably checked the company mail about ten times every hour. When that didn't yield any fruit, I shifted my attention to my personal mail, and then it was back to the company mail once again.

And then I began to ruminate.

Maybe they got some alphabets mixed up. It had happened to me once when I sent a mail to a company and waited for weeks for a reply. They had eventually called saying they hadn't gotten any mail from me. Turned out I had mixed up an n with an m.

So maybe that was what probably happened.

Mr. Hendricks did seem impressed, so what was the big holdup about?

A thought occurred to me. Perhaps they wanted to send me a personal text message but didn't have my number. But even as the thought was conceived, I shut it down.

That would have been highly unprofessional of them. And there was the fact that I guarded my phone number like a vault. Only a handful of people knew it. People I could literally swear wouldn't give it out.

I consoled myself with the saying that no news was good news. But the silence from their end was jarring to say the least.

The muted ring of my phone sounded off, taking me away from my scrambled thoughts. I patted my pocket but it was empty, then I remembered I had put it on my desk earlier on after receiving a call. Now, it was buried amongst the myriad of files on my table.

Not wanting it to ring off, but not able to find it, I pushed all the files to the side big mistake because I watched in horror as they slid across the desk. It was like slow motion, or maybe it was my mind that tried to slow things down.

Unfortunately for me, that only happened in movies.

All the papers in the files landed in a pile, with all the papers strewn all over the floor and my phone right alongside them. With the agility of a two year old, I dived for it. Unfortunately, it stopped ringing before I was able to get a hold of it. Even as I stared at it, upset with myself for being such a doofus, it rang once again.

This time I picked it immediately. "Alexander Moore, here."

As soon as I heard the chuckle, I mentally slapped myself for not checking the caller ID first.

"Is that anyway to answer your phone?"

I closed my eyes and curled my fist around the edge of my chair. "Hello . . . mother."

There was a pause on the line before she spoke. "Hello, Alex, son. Sorry I wasn't able to come for your wife's funeral, I had some important things to take care of."

I tightened my hands around my phone and tried to swallow a lump that had suddenly erupted in my throat. Oblivious of what I was going through, she continued speaking.

"Anyway, now that that woman is dead, when do you think you can remarry? And this time, it has to be to a woman that suits your status, especially one that can give me a grandchild."

I squeezed my eyes shut and then flexed my neck. My breathing had increased, along with the beating of my heart. I opened my eyes once more and silently counted to ten before I replied. "I was in the middle of a meeting. I'll call you back when I deem it fit to." And then I cut the call.

I knew I had just asked for it, because my phone rang again almost immediately. I picked the call quite alright, but left the phone on the table.

She could talk to herself for all I cared.

Was it a crime to be an only child?

Maybe it was an anathema to marry whomever I pleased?

Oh! This was a good one.

Was it my fault she couldn't accept the fact that Aretha had captivated me from the get go against her wishes?

Whatever way I looked at it, it definitely didn't give her the right to treat Aretha shabbily. She had never liked Aretha, not even when Aretha (who was a professional chef), regularly made her sumptuous food to eat, and would drive to the other side of town to give it to her. Now she had passed, she dared to mock her even in death?

I shook my head and released a sigh that helped calm my erratic heart beat.

I didn't want to be rude to her but I couldn't stand her attitude any longer. Even after sending word to her about Aretha's passing, she had not come, neither had she called to commiserate with me. Not one time.

What kind of mother was that?

A knock sounded off, cutting off my angry thoughts. The door to my office opened, and Kelly walked in. There was a look on her face I couldn't place. She wove something in the air and it took some seconds for me to realize it was a letter.

"This just came by courier. It has the stamp of the DEA on it."

She placed it on my desk and all I could do was stare at it. They didn't send a mail or place a call after all. They did it the oldfashioned way by letter.

After a few seconds of staring dumbly at it, I lifted it, the same way one would, precious stones. I've never used glasses before, but suddenly it seemed difficult for me to read what had been boldly emblazoned on the front.

At least, I was able to make out a long slip of paper snugly fitted inside.

"That's right, keep staring at it and it just might open itself." Kelly drawled from in front of me.

I had completely forgotten she was still standing there.

Without wasting anymore time, I took a hold of the paper knife and slowly opened up the edges of the letter. This time, I was clearly able to see the logo of the DEA at the top left.

I skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the body of the letter.

It is with great thought I....... this letter ..... in all honesty, I had known...... beginning......that .......Exceva .......the one. When we first talked......the phone..... your passion .......and I........

I cut off all the unnecessary information and jumped to the end.

A big congratulations, Mr. Moore, The Department of Justice's drive enforcement administration hereby endorses Exceva. . .

My mouth fell open and the letter slipped from my hands.

Kelly was beside me in some seconds. "What's wrong?"

She picked the letter from where it had fluttered to the floor and began to read from the beginning.

It is with great thought I type this letter to you. In all honesty, I had known from the beginning that Exceva was the one. When we first talked on the phone, your passion and drive were palpable to me. You almost bunched it up when you walked into your boardroom looking like you had just stepped out from a whorehouse

"Wait! Is he allowed to type this? Kelly looked at me with wide eyes.

I couldn't reply. I was too much in shock at that point. She shook her head and continued reading.

. . . But then I saw on the news about the passing of your wife, and I understood clearly what you were going through. Accept my condolences once again. So back to the matter at hand, without further ado, the department of Justice's drug administration hereby endorsed Exceva as a cure for killing cancer cells in the early stage. A big congratulations, Mr. Moore, you did it.

Kelly looked at me with eyes that had gone big and round. Her mouth opened up in a wide smile and then she hollered, pumping her fist in the air. "Yes. Yes! You did it. Exceva is live!"

My initial shock gave way and I was finally caught up in the excitement pouring out from her. "Fifteen years, and now it's finally here." I smiled widely.

"This calls for a celebration." She turned to me, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "And I know just what to use."

She flounced off and returned a few minutes later, smiling from ear to ear with one hand behind her back. She stopped in front of my desk and within a jiffy of an eye, whipped a bottle out from behind her back.

"Champagne, for this momentous occasion." She announced it like she was the MC of an event.

She popped it open and the cork flew off and landed somewhere on the floor. She took out two flute glasses from my cabinet and poured a healthy amount into each one. We cheered and I took a sip of the bubbly drink.

We did it, Aretha, baby, this is for us.

I smiled against the rim of my glass.

"Congratulations, once again, Alex. I never doubted you could do it. You are my hero." She smiled coyly. She traced the rim of the glass with her fingers and then slowly dropped it on my desk, all the while maintaining eye contact.

As she walked towards me, a glint entered her eyes. She stopped within an inch of me and I waited, waited for her to make a move so I could show her I was interested in no one but Aretha.

Her hand lifted in the air, settled on the back of my collar and I froze. Turned into a complete icicle. I closed my eyes, swallowed hard and opened them again, only to see her face had moved closer.

The invisible bonds that bound me, loosened.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I removed her hand from around my neck and side stepped her. "'I've got to get to the lab. Exceva needs me now."

With that admission, I walked off, leaving her drilling holes in my back.

"So, Mr. Moore, what can we expect from Exceva in the long run?"

"Mr. Moore, how many people do you perceive will be cured using Exceva?"

"Mr. Moore, will you. . . ?"

I mentally shut out the words of the third reporter. At that point in time, I was about ready to keel over. My eyes had become blurry and red and they stung, but I lifted my shoulders a little higher and pasted on a smile that didn't reach my heart. "As you all know, my wife was diagnosed with womb cancer. Unfortunately, she wasn't diagnosed on time, and as a result. . ." I looked down and shook my head, valiantly trying to keep the tears which threatened to swim to the surface, at bay.

Silence reigned throughout the hall once I had finished speaking. And then someone behind me began to clap. The next person to my left took it up. Another at my right continued, until, like an echo, everyone in the hall was clapping and giving me a standing ovation.

Even though I had just sat through an eight hour press conference and my heart had been heavy, it lightened considerably. I stood and smiled. "Thank you all for the honor and the love, but that will be all for now."

"Mr. Moore, please, one more question, what about. . .?"

But I had heard enough.

I walked out of the hall, flanked by my bodyguards. The reporters were a balsy lot. They tried to oneup each other by shoving their microphones in my face and asking questions at the same time, but my bodyguards shouldered anyone away who dared come close.

All I wanted was to hit my bed and close my eyes forever.

Gross Exaggeration: I meant for a few hours.

I was led out of the hall and into the hallway. More reporters swarmed around, making it even more difficult for us to move. Luckily, Hugo and Bravo did a damn good job by taking the brunt of the crassness exhibited by them.

We finally made it to the compound of the hotel, and just when I saw freedom beckoning, Kelly ran up to me breathing heavily. "Whew! It's a zoo back in there. Thank goodness all that's left to do is pose for pictures. Have you forgotten?" She placed a hand on my forearm and moved uncomfortably close.

I felt the warmth of her body through her clothings and I looked away. Ever since that day in my office, Kelly had looked for ways to come close to me. Whether it was to give me a document or just some piece of information, she would come up close into my personal space and brush against me.

Now I didn''t know what she was looking for, but I wasn't so naive that I didn't know she wanted a shot at me.

Unfortunately for her, I wasn't up for grabs.

"Alex, Mr. Hendricks will soon be out. Remember we need to take pictures for the archives as well as to put on the walls in the office and labs. That serves as a. . ."

I stopped listening to her. I had to admit, she was good at her job. Always keeping me in line and on my toes, but that's what I paid her for though. To do exactly that.

We found a good spot in the compound of the hotel, some meters away from the pool. No one was there at this time. It seemed all of the action was taking place inside the hotel. My bodyguards took up positions at both corners of the exits ready to intercept anyone, reporter or otherwise that came close.

A few minutes later, and Kelly came back with Mr. Hendricks and the rest of his team in tow. There were twenty of them all together, key members of the Justice of the department of administration. To be honest, I felt one picture with all of them was enough, but Kelly had the bright idea to make me take pictures with each of them, and then according to their ranks and office.

She was ingratiating herself in the last picture beside me when my phone rang. I heaved a sigh of relief and excused myself.

"Hello, Mr. Moore, this is doctor Rogers, I'm calling with regards to the lady that was brought here three weeks ago, your personal assistant."

For some reason, I became silent as I drew a blank at who he was talking about. But as he continued speaking, it flooded my memory once again.

"The lady seems to be out of the woods now, but she's presently in an induced coma. She still needs a lot of healing. I felt I needed to update you, see if you're chanced so you could swing by. I know you're a busy man, but a few minutes spent talking to her will add to her healing. No one has come in to see her yet, I hear."

Where before I wanted to hit the sack, as I listened, the tiredness slid from my body and was quickly replaced with sadness. It settled like a heavy bag of rocks on my chest. I knew first hand, what it meant to have no one.

I made up my mind immediately."Thank you, doctor, I'll definitely drop by today. Same room as before?"

"No, she has been moved to another more comfortable room, thanks to the funds you provided."

I nodded, like he could see me and promised to come.

I turned round to see Kelly in an animated discussion with Mr. Hendricks, so I walked up to them. "Sorry, something came up, I've got to go."

Mr. Hendricks smiled and took a hold of my hand in a firm handshake. "Congratulations, Alex, I'll definitely be buying a few packs of Exceva. One never knows when this sneaky cancer disease will sneak up on one."

I cracked a smile. "Not to worry, I will definitely send some complimentary packs over to you and the rest of the team."

As I finished speaking, Kelly sidled up to me. Her hand got fixed on mine as I turned. "Where are you off to? I thought we could all"

"Sorry, rain check." I shook her hand off and walked off.

Stepping into the hospital took me back. I didn't want to go back. I didn't want to remember those times when the screams would wake me up. Screams of despair and pain. Screams that shook my very foundation. Screams that took the very foundation of the hope that Aretha and I had built.

All my aspirations came crumbling down the moment Aretha was diagnosed with womb cancer. This wasn't just any type of cancer though, it was the type that grew side by side with the child in her womb. Our child. A child that was being stifled with the deadly disease.

A child we had been expecting for almost eight years. A child that was loved and prepared for even before his inception.

Jacob.

We had given him the same name as Aretha's father of blessed memory. A man I had never met but still felt a strange, yet strong affinity to. I didn't know if there was anything like reincarnation but I kind of wanted him to come back as Jacob, my son.

I shook my head to rid it of the thoughts that spilled unbidden, into my mind and stopped at the front desk. "Hi, I'm looking for a lady that was brought in a few weeks ago. Mia Hernandez by name."

The middle aged woman didn't even bother looking up. She stared at the screen in front of her. "What's your name, sir?"

I told her and she nodded. "Visiting times for ICU patients are between 124pm." She looked at the time on her wrist meaningfully.

I got the meaning clearly. It was almost 4pm. I needed to hurry.

She directed me to the ICU section. As I walked, people crowded the hallway. Their faces told a story of woe and despair and I was hard pressed to continue. I gritted my teeth, steeled my nerves and kept walking until I got to the front of the room. There, I stopped because I heard it, the continuous mechanical beeping of a machine. A machine that indicated a life needed to be saved.

From the window, I saw a form lying on the bed. I didn't know what possessed me to do it. I just know I found myself opening the door and walking inside. From inside the room, the beeping sound was even louder and another noise accompanied it. Curious, I walked forward, my hands becoming sweatier by the second. I got to her bedside and stared.

She was a mess.

Aretha was in ICU before she passed, but what I saw before me was on another level. The lady lying still on the bed was hooked up to different tubes. One protruded from her mouth, while a cord was wrapped around her head and attached to a machine. A neck band was wrapped around her neck, possibly to stabilize it. An IV was set up on both side of her wrists, while an oximeter was attached to both her finger and toe.

The woman's face was bruised purple and swollen. Her skin matched the pale colour of the sheets she lay on. Amidst the gory picture she portrayed, something red poked out from the top of her head. I leaned closer to take a good look and couldn't look away.

Her hair. It was bright copper red. One word came to my mind as I stared in fascination at it.

Fiery.

Spellbound, I leaned closer, stretching my hand forward towards it. I needed to touch it so bad.

"Hello, Mr. Moore."

I felt like a kid who had been caught with his hands in the cooking jar. Except mine hadn't even made it there at all. My hand hung in the air foolishly, but I slowly retracted it and turned to see Doctor Rogers. He stood at the door, staring at me with a smile on his face.

I gave him a nod and a tight smile.

"I'm glad you were able to come." He moved closer into the room.

I turned to him fully. "Tell me, how is she really faring?"

He cleared his throat and moved away from me and closer to the woman on the bed. "There was internal bleeding in her brain, but that is now under control after the successful surgery."

I moved closer to her bed and was shocked to see part of her shock of red hair had been scraped off on one side of her head. A large gauze tape was plastered there with white bandaging. I stared at it, missing some words of the doctor.

". . . swelling which is normal and we are closely watching. The next three days are critical now. If she gets better and wakes up on her own, then all's going to be well, but if she doesn't, then. . . " He didn't say anymore. He chose to shake his head instead.