novelraw Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Blaire.
I was heartbroken and damaged beyond repair. The two tragic news were worse than being placed in the gas chamber. I wanted to die. I was pregnant with Zach...my baby, the fruit of our love...but I lost it.
I freaking lost my baby! I didn’t even have the chance to see it, kiss it, fondle it, and hold it in my arms! Hell! I didn’t even get a chance to acknowledge its presence.
Then Zach disappeared. Really? How could he do that? He abandoned me because I had a miscarriage? Whose fault was that?
I was back to my senses but still in the hospital ward. The doctor neutralized my hysterical outburst earlier. The same people still stayed with me–my parents and my friends.
Jessie and Marie stood by my bedside, consoling me as I sobbed softly. Marie stroked my hair and Jessie patted my legs. I felt better but still shaken.
I sniffed and looked at my parents again with my bloodshot eyes. They were tired, sad, and gloomy. I still couldn’t understand their sudden change. Now they’re playing the good-parents card for me.
“What really happened before I was rushed here? Apart from the miscarriage?” I asked. Saying the word ‘miscarriage’ stung so badly.
My father heaved a sigh and pocketed his hands. His beard had grown bushy, an obvious sign that he hasn’t been shaving for days. “You lost a lot of blood...well...besides your injuries, of course,” he began. “The doctors recommended surgery and a blood transfusion. Your blood type is very unique and difficult to find...” He paused, as if thinking of what to say next.
I stared at him to continue. He looked helplessly at my mother. “Please, tell her the rest,” he pleaded.
Mom pursed her lips and nodded. “Someone came to the hospital to donate his blood for you...” Pain and resentment flashed through her eyes. She was struggling with something.
Who could that be? I asked myself. And
“Who is he or she?” I asked. “At least, I need to know so that I can thank him when I leave here.”
Mom finally found her strength to mention the name of her ex-boyfriend. “Your father...Ewan Gibson.”
***
I was discharged that same week and I returned home. My friends also took a train back to their towns. I miss them already.
I locked myself inside the room until the next day. Damien and Ben also called to ask how I was doing and we chatted for a while but none of us mentioned Zach. I wasn’t sure if Damien already told Ben about the affair between me and Zach but I dreaded the possibility of that.
The next day, Dad announced that we would be going over to HavenStar Hotel for a meeting with my real father, Ewan Gibson. The meeting was scheduled at 3 pm. He explained that they agreed to meet in a neutral place rather than at their private homes. I guessed they wanted to avoid unequal advantages between the two parties involved which may occur if the meeting will be held at either our home or Ewan’s residence.
I wasn’t looking forward to it but I know that I must be there. I felt uneasy with the prospects of coming face to face with Ewan, the famous millionaire bad boy in the city and one of my dad’s worst nightmares in the business world. I wonder how I would react or what I would do when I see him. Would I be happy or angry? He saved my life – yes and I was grateful for that but the unsettling feeling in my stomach wouldn’t stop.
By 2:30 pm, we were on our way to the hotel. My dad’s driver, who usually drove me to school before Zach took over, is my chauffeur while my parents rode in another car. Zach’s absence affected us all despite not mentioning his name.
I will deal with his issues later. Now, I have a mysterious father to meet.
We arrived at the grand hotel shortly before three. HavenStar Hotel is one of the top hotels in the city which is patronized by the wealthy and famous people. The members of staff were always on their uniforms of white tops over maroon and blue skirts for the ladies and pants for the gents. I’ve never been inside the premises before, but I’ve passed here several times.
Our cars settled in the parking lot before we made our way inside the hotel. A tall and sexy female attendant dressed in gray suits and pants sauntered to meet us, a broad smile plastered on her face. She shook our hands and asked us to follow her.
I was positioned between my parents as we went inside the lush lobby. The attendant turned to us, and I saw the tag pinned to her chest: Barbara Houston.
“We have a scheduled meeting with Mr. Ewan Gibson at the garden,” Dad told her stiffly.
“Yes, sir, I am aware and I also know that you have booked the Heart Garden ahead for the special occasion, am I correct, sir?” Ms. Houston intoned, still smiling.
“Yes,” Dad replied impatiently while I and Mom looked on in silence.
“Great! First, you will register your details with the receptionist. Then, I will take you to your reserved spot at the Garden,” Ms. Houston said and gestured us to follow her.
We immediately followed Ms. Houston after registration. The Heart Garden is located at the western wing of the property.
It’s a lush expanse of field designed for relaxation and small parties such as picnics, tea parties, private ceremonies, and private official meetings. However, I heard that these informal occasions were only allowed on weekends.
If one wants maximum privacy with someone or alone, the hotel provides this luxury here. The green fields reflected the natural ambiance for peace and tranquility. Four water fountains erect at the corners of the field overlooking about 60 metal chairs. Small glass tables stood in between the chairs, carrying different colors of flower vases and small glass bowls filled with colorful pebbles. The scene is breathtaking.
During weekdays, the crowd there is not usually heavy, like today. We only met a handful of people scattered all over the place, speaking in hushed tones.
Ms. Houston took us to a very quiet spot where six chairs and two tables were already arranged but no sign of Ewan. This was a perfect place for a serious and private meeting like ours.
“Take your seats, please, ladies and gentlemen,” she instructed us gently and we obeyed. I sat on one of the chairs, putting a gap between me and my parents who sat opposite each other.
“What would you like to order?” Ms. Houston asked.
Dad was about to say something when his phone rang. He raised his first finger for her to excuse him as he fished out his phone. He scowled when he saw the name on the screen. Reluctantly, he put it to his right ear.
“Where are you?” he asked coldly, looking pissed. He listened for a while, then he hung up.
“He’s here,” he announced to everyone around him, then turned to Ms. Houston. “Let them order first, please. Mine will come later.”
I asked for a bottle of Breezers and Mom asked for brandy. Ms. Houston nodded and left. We waited in silence, our hearts beating fast as the clock ticked. Ewan would appear soon.
My heart wouldn’t stop slamming against my ribs in anxiety. I felt beads of sweat forming on my forehead and I wiped it. At that moment, a man in a black shirt, denim pants a pair of black sunglasses entered the garden. He looks like he is in his forties. He’s holding a silver-colored iPhone and a burgundy leader watch is displayed on his left wrist.
I almost collapsed in shock. What caught my eyes as he approached us was his ash blonde hair and small lips--exactly like mine. His glowing bright skin looked like a cut-out from mine too. Could this be Ewan? I used to hear his name, but I've never seen him before, not even on TV because I wasn’t a TV fan.
This is my father?
He reached our spot and stopped right in front of me. He removed his shades and stared intently at my face. I gasped. His eyes are amber–just like mine!
Mom and Dad sat still on their chairs while I was busy staring at this man. Suddenly, a wide grin spread over his face, and he opened his arms wide.
“Won’t my beautiful daughter give me a hug?” he said in a tone I couldn’t decipher. I don’t have to look at my parents to know that they are probably pissed right now. I can feel the tension rising.