THE CONTRACT BRIDE

MY CHEST HURTS

CHAPTER 4: MY CHEST HURTS

SOPHIE ANDERSON:

All through the weekend, I wondered why Damien Sinclair gave me his business card and invited me to his office.

Well, today is Monday and I have to honour that invitation.

I woke up early and indulged in a luxurious bath, before I got dressed in a corporate outfit. My hair fell over my shoulders in a loose waves and my makeup was neutral. I wore a pair of high heels, grabbed my handbag and my car keys and left.

New York City was always busy, but today was just different. The streets seemed peaceful and the vehicles on the road seemed a bit scanty.

I planned on going to Mr. Sinclair's office first before heading to work. I will do my best to negotiate that repair cost with him. Otherwise, I won't be able to afford it.

As I turned onto Fifth Avenue, my attention was drawn to a luxury black Mercedes-Benz that had stopped in the middle of traffic. I slowed down and peeped inside.

The driver was a well-dressed elderly man who clutched his chest and twisted his face as if he was in pain.

My instinct told me to stop.

I pulled over to the side and stepped out.

"Sir? Are you okay?" I knocked on the window, but he couldn't turn his head as he continued to breathe heavily.

I panicked and yanked the door open. I crouched beside him and whispered, "Sir, can you hear me?"

He managed a weak nod. "Chest… hurts…"

A heart attack. I had no medical training, but I knew time was crucial.

"Hold on, okay? I’m getting you to the hospital!"

I managed to get him out of his car and took him to mine. I locked his car doors and drove him away while he groaned in pain, his hand gripping his chest.

"Just hang in there!" I said, speeding toward Lenox Hill Hospital.

The moment we arrived, nurses rushed to get him onto a stretcher.

"Ma’am, what's wrong?" a nurse asked.

I hesitated. "I think… it's a heart attack."

She nodded. "You brought him just in time. We’ll take it from here."

I followed closely behind as they wheeled him away.

I waited at the reception while they took him to the emergency ward. A few hours later, the Doctor came out. I rushed over.

“Doctor, how’s he doing?”

The Doctor slowed his movement but didn't stop. “He's still critical but stable. You brought him in just in time. He's your Dad?”

I shook my head and then realised that I didn't even know his name. “No, I saw him in pains on my way.” I responded politely.

“We need to contact his family. Do you have his phone?” the Doctor enquired.

I pressed my palm on my forehead. “No, I don't have his phone. It's probably in his car.”

The Doctor took a second look at me. “Where is his car?”

“Somewhere in Fift Avenue.”

The Doctor paused.

I stepped closer. “Did you check his pockets?”

The Doctor locked eyes with me and shook his head.

“Then let's go and check.”

We headed back to the emergency ward and behold, his phone was in his pants pocket.

The Doctor browsed through the phone contact and stopped when he found the one stored as ‘Son’. He dailed the number and spoke briefly with the person on the other side.

He dropped the call and turned to me, “His son will be here soon.”

I heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness! Doctor, please take care of him. I have to leave now. I have an appointment to catch up with. I will come back to check on him in an hour or two.”

The Doctor nodded and asked me to drop my contact, just incase.

I left my contact with the hospital receptionist and headed to the Sinclair Group building.

I took the elevator ride to the top floor but was told that Mr. Sinclair just stepped out of the office after he got an emergency call.

Very typical of my day to always go wrong.

I didn't bother to wait as I headed back to my shop.

Luckily, I got a client today as soon as I got to the shop, who wanted me to organise a birthday party for his one year old son and paid upfront.

I went back to the hospital to visit the elderly man with a bag of fruits in the evening.