CHAPTER 2: Bad news

MILES:

"Grenada, I told you that I’m fine. I don’t need babysitting. If I’ve lived this long, survived a heart transplant, recuperating shouldn’t be an issue."

"I’m just doing my job, Mr. Pierce. Besides, you signed an agreement to allow me to handle your health for life. Now, you’ve to follow my guidelines for six months, and you can fully go back to doing what you want."

It was becoming irritating; after my heart transplant and successful discharge two weeks ago, everyone treated me like a fragile being. No one seemed to heed my instructions or follow my orders. I returned to find my security team tripled, and when I confronted my head of security, he claimed it was an instruction I'd given before the surgery. They made it seem like I had partial amnesia, as I couldn’t recall initiating numerous changes to my schedule, house, and staff.

Not to worry, in a little time, things will return to normal. Meaning that many would lose their jobs. Did they think I had changed or something as minor as this would slow me down? If I was prepared for death and life gave me a second chance, the least I could do was make the most out of it.

For those unfamiliar with me, I am Miles Pierce, the most feared thirty-four-year-old billionaire in California. I've dominated the business realm, building companies that rake in roughly a billion dollars yearly after tax. When it comes to looks, I know I’m a rare creation, and my workout routine has helped maintain it. Although one can never have everything, and that was my case until an unexpected miracle happened.

Three years ago, I had a perfect life until they found a lump in my heart during one of my health checkups. Initially told not to worry, a few medications and minor surgery should suffice. With reassurance, I returned to my daily activities, listening and following instructions.

The universe had other plans for me, so I scheduled a follow-up checkup to learn more.

"Mr. Pierce," I remembered vividly; that was what Grenada called me. A moment that changed everything.

"Shoot. Good news or bad news? Don’t give me that pitiful look," I admonished her as I sat on the examination table, buttoning my suit.

“It’s bad news. A terrible one,” she hesitated, causing my impatience to rise.

“For goodness’ sake, out with whatever it is already. It’s getting on my nerves. I have an important meeting to attend,” I snapped, irritated by the delay.

Exhaling, she zoomed in on the image before me. “You might as well reschedule your meeting. The lump has grown worse. As it is, it has occupied eighty percent of your heart. It appears to me that it grew immune to the treatments and fought against the antibiotics instead.”

“I am lost. Can you break it down for me? Because all I hear is how incompetent my personal doctor is. What do you mean by 'it seems?' I don't pay you well for things to ‘seem’ to you. If you don’t know your job, I’ll educate you on it.”

Standing to my feet with swift force, I felt queasy, almost tripping on my own feet. Readjusting myself to get a better stance, I settled on the vacant chair close to me, attempting to regain my strength. It dawned on me that I was truly sick, and it was no joke.

“Miles,” Grenada called me once more, her serious tone cutting through.

“Instead of giving me more insight into the problem, I want a solution. Lots of it. How much would it cost to get this over with?”

“I am afraid money can’t fix this one. We need a heart transplant as soon as possible, or you will die.”

Death existed; that much I was aware of. Yet, I never thought it would stare me in the face so soon. Of all the people, it chose to attack me, rendering my guard defenseless. For what it’s worth, it could have taken some random person complaining about life or, better still, an ungrateful human trying to commit suicide. Yeah. Those were better options. Not me. I loved life so much because it was great for me. So, to have something tamper with my life left me beyond perplexed.

“Did you hear me, Miles?” Grenada swirled her chair as if she hadn’t just announced my impending demise. Looking all too comfortable and happy. How could she wear a stupid glowing face when I was about to die?

“I heard you. Do you have one ready to use? I mean the heart, of course.”

She shook her head a bit and put on her dead-serious face once more. “It doesn’t work that way. We need to put you on the waiting list. Moreover, it isn’t something you can buy off the shelf. It is a heart that needs to be relinquished by a donor.”

“All I hear is a problem without a solution. Tell me a solution.”

Linking her hands on top of the desk, she stared into my eyes without blinking. “We need to run a comprehensive test to find out what donor you need. Wait and pray that you get a match. It’s the only thing we can do.”

That was the last time I heard anything positive from my doctor until two years and three months later. It was always a negative answer. “Sorry, Mr. Pierce, we haven’t heard from the other hospitals yet. Sorry, Mr. Pierce, this one wasn’t a match. We are doing our best, Mr. Pierce. There’s nothing else for us to do. We’ve exhausted all our options, Mr. Pierce. We can only hope for a miracle.”

I received more apologies and faced numerous disappointments throughout those terrible two years and three months, making me give up. I accepted my fate of dying young and quickly. It led me to start putting things in place to make it easier after my demise. I also plotted revenge on my enemies.

Nevertheless, something different happened. I never believed in the fiction of miracles. I was the kind of guy who preferred scientific explanations to religious or spiritual ones. When the impossible happened, I was moved to retrace my stand on miracles.

Seven months ago, as I angrily swallowed the tons of pills keeping me alive, my phone buzzed on the bedside table. Ignoring the furious buzzing, I dropped the glass of water and cursed. “Who the fuck is blowing up my phone this early?” Reluctantly, I picked up the phone, preparing to shout the living daylight out of whoever it was.

Immediately I answered the call, I heard a voice and news that made me freeze. “Mr. Pierce, we’ve found a donor!” Grenada’s voice announced with overwhelming excitement in her tone.

That was truly an end to a beginning.