Chapter 3. Mrs. McCall

White ceiling, blue themed room. I blink a couple of times.

“I am alive.” I murmur to myself.

The last thing I remember is falling at the middle of the road after a car hit me. I thought that was the end of me and my miserable life, but it seems my time is not up yet. I don’t know whether to be happy about that or not, though.

Wait...where am I?

This sure is not a hospital bed. This heavy duty mattress, how many inches is it anyway? And this expensive white bed, I think it’s what they call king or queen size? Did I wake up in paradise or am I in the afterlife? My head hurts, but I pull myself up and sit up, leaning backwards to support my bandaged head. I am glad I don’t have fractured bones, but a side of my hip hurts, alongside my bandaged head and arm.

The door opens, which is quite a distance from the bed because this room is enough to accommodate five more beds of the same size. A man walks in. Adorable height, medium size body with finest jaws. This is a bit confusing now. If I got into an accident, wasn’t I supposed to wake up in a hospital or in my house? Who is this, cold rich-stinking guy? His eyes are cold enough to command anybody to submit to whatever sin he may summon, and I bet his voice would hold such demeanor too. His stand and composure speaks confidence and authority. Where am I again?

“Who are you?” I ask as he walks to stand beside me, giving me the honor of breathing in his richly sweet seductive scent. I have never smelled something as sweet as this, that is why the butterflies in my stomach are aroused.

“Your husband!” His voice is as I expected — icy, cold, but sweet.

I swallow hard!

First, I have never had a boyfriend, let alone a husband. Second, even if I was to be married, it would definitely not be to this fine rich god here. I cannot fit in his world, and he can’t stoop so low to my own. We are like water and paraffin, or two parallel roads, better yet, heaven and earth. Thanks to that expensive joke he just pulled there, I am smiling bitterly. My husband my left foot!

“How long have I been dead?” I ask, looking into his dark brown eyes.

“What?”

“Yeah! If I am married, that means I am in the afterlife. I did not have a boyfriend, not to talk of being married before I got into that accident.” I say, looking to this beautiful but confusing stranger.

How can he say I am his wife?

“I am not a bad person. I just did what I had to do. What I felt was right.” He speaks, his cold tone of voice as calm and soft as it can ever be, presumably.

“What do you mean?” I ask as he pulls out an envelope from the drawer beside the bed and hands it to me. “What’s in it?” I ask, without showing any interest of accepting it. This rich people are annoyingly weird.

“Check it.”

I kick the blue duvet aside and get out of bed, grabbing the envelope from him and slightly limping to the table near the window. I empty the contents of the envelope on the table, and the first thing that catches my attention made my heart skip several beats.

My mother’s ID? What is happening here? Did something bad happen to my mother?

“Why do you have my mother’s ID? Where is she? Is she alright?” I rant nonstop to the stranger. My heart feels so heavy all of a sudden. “Tell me she is okay.”

“Relax. Your mother is perfectly fine. I just kept that as part of the agreement until you wake up so that I can confirm that she really is your mother.” A calming explanation, but more confusing.

“She is my mother.” The shock on his face, huh! I smell a rat here. What just happened in the few hours I was unconscious? I am starting to tremble. Man! I hope she didn’t screw you too! Yack! “Why? What did she do? And why am I here? Who are you and what is this place? What about the agreement you are talking about?” If ranting was a person... Tessa Angeline would be that person.

“Everything is well explained in that contract.”

“Cont... what?” I query.

What does me getting hit by a car and waking up in a strange house with a strange person got to do with a freaking contract? It would have been self-explanatory if I woke up in a police cell, for mistakenly being accused of intentionally getting myself hit by a car so that I can demand for some compensation. I would also have understood it if I woke up in a mental hospital, because I am sure I looked like a crazy on the road yesterday. But here? What can explain all these?

“Please, read it and understand every clause in it. It is important. Your.. mother signed her part. But it’s entirely your decision to agree to sign yours.”

Whoa! I have a very bad feeling. What did you do mother? Why do I feel hurt already even without knowing what this damn contract is all about?

“You know what, Mister? My head is aching so much and my vision is a bit blurry due to the pain. I may not be able to see well.” I lie. The pain is not even severe in my head. It is in my heart where the real pain is. I am so scared of what is in this contract. My mother has always had bad intentions for me, and I don’t know the intensity of her hatred. I know she can’t sign me off for anything good. “I suppose you know the contents in this contract. Tell me what it says. Explain it bit by bit and in the most simplest way possible. What did you and my mother sign me up for?” I look straight into his ice eyes, and he does not even blink as he does me the honor of giving me the shock of my life. No, actually, the heartbreak of my life!

“It’s a contract stating that you will be officially my wife for five months. I am paying you a hundred million for the five months you will stay with me.” Period.

The sky must be turning red for the very first time, that is why even the air I am breathing right now is not the normal oxygen. This one is suffocating. It’s choking me.

Someone bring me back to earth, because I doubt it’s where all these nonsense is happening. Since when did people’s lives had a price tag on them? Who at this era has such a huge amount of money to just give it away like that? And who at this age and era buys a wife?

What? Doesn’t he know how to court a woman? From his looks and the amount he is to cough, he must be freaking stinking rich. So why can’t he find a woman to marry? Is he a shape-shifting serpent that no woman can stand? Wait, who brought about this absurd idea to begin with?

“Who between you two came up with this fucking idea?” I ask, my eyes maintaining their stare at him, and him being as icy as he looks, he doesn’t blink still.

“I did.”

Well, at least it wasn’t my mother. Now I feel relieved, and the air is fresh again. But did she have to agree? That alone hurts, but it’s less painful than...

“Your mother proposed a different kind of deal first.” Shit! Wait, double that shit!

“What did she propose?” I shoot at him.

“Are you sure you want....”

“Yes.” I cut him off. “What kind of deal did my mother propose to you?”

“Just a million for your life. She wanted me to take you as whatever I wanted, for just a million!” Everything stands still, and I forget how to breathe for a minute. What…the…hell?

One drop. Two drops. Three drops. I have two streams of rivers flowing with tears down my two chubby cheeks.

What?

I had a feeling this was going to hurt, but I didn’t know it would be this much. I have gone through so much pain — the pain of her hatred, the pain of her insults, the pain of her slaps, the pain of always being on losing end. Everything has been painful for me in general. But this pain surpasses every other pain I have felt before. Even all of my pains mixed together cannot equal this one.

My mother sold me off to a stranger? And just for a mere one million? She was busy trading me like some filthy object while I lay unconscious on the hospital bed? I am sure she didn’t even care to find out who this man is. I was lying unconscious on the hospital bed and all she was thinking about was how to get rid of me? What did I ever do to this woman?

Trading me like mare garbage is the last straw. She doesn’t want me? She wants me out of her life? I am also tired of her. I am done hoping and wishing she will change. I am freaking done trying to be a good daughter that I will never be to her. This is the highlight of all your hatred towards me mother! I am so done crying for you. I am done caring for you. Today, you have given me enough reason to do what’s best for you and me.

I wipe away the tears, and look at this stranger. I don’t think I have words for him right now. What my mother has done is the only thing ringing in my head right now. I take the pen from his shirt, and he is shocked at that, but I don’t care. I open the contract, but he grabs my hand.

“Hey! If you don’t want go through with it, I won’t force you. You still have the chance to back down. I will pay your mother what she asked so she won’t cause trouble.”

“Don’t they say that parents, especially mothers, always know what is best for their children? This is what my mother thinks is best for me. I am an adult, and I have no objections whatsoever. I am righting her decision. I want this!”

“You are angry.”

“I am sober. I want this, so let me.” He let go of my hand unwillingly, and I sign on the spaces left for me. I close the contract and put it back in the envelope, returning the pen where I took it from. I hand him the envelope. “When can I get the first half?”

“By today evening.” He says.

“Good. I will go see my mother the day after tomorrow. Is that alright?”

“Sure. No problem.” He says.

“I need some rest.”

“Go ahead. The doctor will be coming to check on your wounds later on in the day.”

I nod my head, and walk to bed, while he makes his way to the door.

“Wait, my husband.” I call before he can walk out, and he turns around. “What should I call you?”

“Jerol O’Brian McCall. Call me Jerol from now on, Mrs. McCall.” I nod my head, and he walks out, closing the door behind him.

“Mrs. McCall.” I murmur to myself as I get under the blue duvet again.

Mrs. McCall, it is. For five months.