SUSANA MOHEL
The Salvation Society Acknowledgments About the Author Books by Susana Mohel
Copyright © 2021 by Susana Mohel
Cover Design by: Sue C. Hoffman
Editing by: Sisters Get Lit(erary) Author Services & Virginia Tesi Carey
MamáJuanita, IwillcarryyouwithmeuntilIseeyouagain.
CHAPTER ONE
Fuckmylife.
Fuckity,fuck.
I know what they say about life being a gift and all that shit. Life is beautiful, but oh-so-complicated, and right now, mine is a shitshow.
I’ve been married for just over three months, to a man who swept me off my feet. We met when he stopped to buy some of the honey products I sell in a stall at the side of the road. From that moment, we became inseparable. Well, as inseparable as you can be when your man has to travel for work and spends at least four days out of the week on business trips.
Lionel was charming, loving, and romantic—the perfect gentleman. But nobody knows just how similar Cinderella’s story and mine are. In her story, the carriage turned into a pumpkin at midnight. In mine, Mr. Charming turned into someone else over the course of our honeymoon weekend.
The smiling and carefree boy I fell in love with became a jealous, controlling man with a clear agenda in mind, which is to knock me up.
And that brings me to the dilemma I’m in right now. After holding my breath for three days and waiting for the damn test to come back positive, I got up to find a red stain on my underwear.
Dammit.
HowinthehellamIgoingtotellLionel?
He has told me his workload is driving him crazy. An ambitious man, he dreams of being more than a regional sales representative for a wine company. He says that management sees potential in him and a promotion is just around the corner, and after saving for a while, we’ll be able to buy the old vineyard that brought him to Carrollton, my hometown. In the meantime, I must be patient and take care of the duties and tasks he demands of me.
After tying the knot, my husband insisted I take his name. After waiting for the appointment and filling out the paperwork, I officially became Mrs. Stella Annabel Kral, my maiden name Lambert, was left behind. As an only child, I would have liked to have kept my old last name or hyphenated it at least, but I decided to go with the flow to avoid another fight as hyphenating just wasn’t an option. Compromise also isn’t in Mr. Lionel Kral’s dictionary. That’s just one instance of his controlling nature. It should have acted as a red flag to what was in store for me.
The bad thing is this has become a habit in our household. For Lionel, it’s his way or the highway, so to avoid problems, I’ve had to yield more times than I would like.
Lionel has also notified me in the event of something happening to him, a prestigious lawyer in Louisville has the papers with his last wishes. That night I fell asleep disheartened. Crying my eyes out. Who can think of death just a few days after marriage? My husband. He told me he wanted to be cautious, with all the traveling he does, and he didn’t want me to worry, especially with a baby. And when it came down to taking care of our family, I had to agree with him.
I should stop overthinking it. I should get up and head to my mother’s house to take care of the bees. After the tragic accident that took my father’s life when I was eleven years old, I had to take over the family business. I was forced to grow up early because my mother could hardly function; she hardly ever opened her eyes or accepted to eat anything I placed in front of her. A couple of years later, my mother found solace in religion; the church helped to fill the void that was left behind after my father’s death.
Hopefully, I’ll have plenty of extra honey and royal jelly, which means I’ll be able to make some soaps and lip balms to sell at the
“Have you seen the news today?” Wow, thisisweird.Usually, she doesn’t spend much time in front of the black box, as she calls it.
“No, why?” I don’t like to start the day by stressing out about all the madness going on around the world.
“Why haven’t you turned on the TV?” she asks as she looks around again. “Have you talked to Lionel today? When was the last time you spoke to your husband?”
I raise my brows… This is weird, my mother has never been interested in my relationship with Lionel.
“We spoke yesterday afternoon.”
“Do you know where he is?”
Anxiety claws at my gut. Whatisthisabout?
“In Dallas.”
She looks at me, raising her eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
I’m usually calm, but something in her tone raises the hairs on the back of my neck.
“Are you sure he’s in Dallas?”
“Stop beating around the bush, Mom, tell me what’s wrong.” A bead of sweat drips down my forehead.
“The television, you have to turn on the television.”
I take her by the wrist and park her in front of the giant screen that Lionel bought a few weeks ago.
“The news channel,” she says in a rush.
The headline appears on the screen. I gasp, the floor beneath my feet shaking. I can’t breathe, can’t think.
No!
‘Lionel Kral has been attacked and is clinging to life.’
It can’t be him. Not Lionel. I only saw him yesterday. My entire world is spinning, I’m about to faint.
This is impossible. They’re nottalking about my husband.
“I don’t believe it,” I whisper as I drop onto the couch, my legs giving way beneath me. “It can’t be. What was Lionel doing in Los Angeles?”
Mom sits next to me, holding my hand. “Try to call him, maybe it’s someone with the same name, a namesake. Didn’t you say your Lionel is in Texas this week?”
I dash to the kitchen to grab my phone. As my screen comes to life, I notice that I’ve had several missed calls; seven from my mother and two more from my friend Alison.
I head back toward the living room, my hands are shaking so much that I drop the damn thing twice before I manage to dial Lionel’s number, and while I wait for him to answer—I keep watching the news. I can’t look away, I need more information.
Answer,Lionel,answerandtellmethisisallalie.
The reporter’s talking. Renowned architect… Large West Coast construction company… Death’s door.
My heart hammers against my rib cage, thudding loudly in my ears.
Lionel doesn’t answer. Isheinameeting?
Itcan’tbehim,itcan’tbe.
MyhusbandisinDallas.Myhusbandisanemployee.
My husband isn’t the millionaire they’re talking about on the news.
It’snothim,it’snotLionel.
“He’s not answering,” I mumble.
The only response I hear is the hateful sound of the call going to voicemail.
“We’ve been informed that the thirty-four-year-old businessman is in the intensive care unit of Cedars-Sinai Hospital. We also know his mother is there with him, however, the family has not made any statements and the doctors are being silent. This is all the information we have at the moment,” says the man ending his report, standing in front of a building with several broken windows and the walls stained with spray paint.
Hismother?Hisfamily?
Whatfamily?
Lionel grew up in the system. He didn’t get adopted. He has no one. I’m his wife, the only family he has. He’s told me this several times.
“Thanks, Max,” a blonde woman with a grim face answers. “CBX News, with the latest update. The business world has woken up to
the news that one of the most renowned entrepreneurs on the West Coast was attacked last night, Lionel Kral…”
I have no idea what she says after that because a photo fills the screen and time stops.
It’s Lionel.
They’re saying it’s him, but I can’t believe it.
My world collapses.
Lionel, my husband, the love of my life. The man they call a tycoon… is fighting for his life.
I’ve entered an unknown dimension.
I don’t have a compass, and it’s dark.
Lionel, the man I promised to love until death do us part—is a liar.
grounds. A man is driving and a blonde woman sits in the passenger seat. I can’t see much of her since one hand covers her mouth, and large sunglasses hide the rest of her face.
“Stella, it’s him, baby. The man in that hospital is your husband.”
I know it’s my mother’s voice saying those words, but they seem so foreign.
“You have to go,” she insists.
It takes me a while to process that information as my body continues to tremble, but those words fall on my shoulders like an avalanche.
“You need to find out what’s going on with your husband, Stella.”
On shaky legs, I get up to look through the cabinet drawers where the television sits. I’ve seen some business cards in here before.
“We’re going to clear this up right now. I’m going to call their office and they’re going to tell me where Lionel is. This has to be a mistake, Mom. A big one.”
When I turn the cabinet upside down, a framed photograph falls out, mocking me. Lionel and me at City Hall’s stone staircase, smiling, after the happiest day of my life. In one hand I’m holding a red rose bouquet that Lionel surprised me with, while he had his arm raised in a sign of victory.
Right now all that seems like a distant memory.
I feel like someone else, someone strange, is telling me the story of my life, and I’m watching in horror from the sidelines.
Dammit,Lionel,whoareyou?
I cling to the small cardboard placard in the same way that I do to what little hope I have left.
I take a deep breath before I dial, the first attempt failing. I hit the green button and wait for someone to answer. It rings, and rings, and keeps on ringing.
“The door was open.”
I glance up and meet Alison’s worried face, her red hair awry, tumbles around her pale complexion.
“You’ve already found out.”
Like my mother, it seems Alison ran out of her house to come to mine at full speed. Ali is the most impulsive person I’ve ever met, but also the most loyal and optimistic. She pushes me to act because I tend to be an overthinker. All the kinds of craziness I’ve gotten myself into by letting her take the lead, my teenage years would have been boring otherwise.
My mother looks at Ali almost rolling her eyes. She’s never liked her, thinks she’s a bad influence. The truth is that without Alison’s support, I don’t know where I’d be. She’s the only person who knows all my secrets. She’s also the one that encouraged me to take some classes at the local university. I actually followed her advice and am more than happy that I did.
“I’ve been trying to reach his office, but no one is answering the phone,” I explain.
“That’s what the internet is for.”
I’m far from being tech savvy. It was Alison who convinced me to open up an Instagram account. The same one in which Lionel is addicted to. Each one of our milestones is proudly published there, from photos of our first date to our wedding, to even a few days ago when we went out to dinner and took a walk alongside the river.
Everything is properly documented on the web.
Another of my husband’s obsessions.
“Here’s the number,” she squeals proudly, showing me the flat screen of her phone. “Let’s call.”
I hug the thick robe over my body, using it as a shield, bracing myself for what’s to come.
“I’m looking for Lionel Kral, one of your sales representatives.” Alison frowns “Are you sure? His name is Lionel Kral, Kral with a K.” More tortuous silence. “I understand… yes… thank you, ma’am. Sorry.”
She ends the call and closes her eyes.
“Please tell me, Ally…” I beg.
“Stella.” Alison takes my hand, and looking straight into my eyes, she finally says, “They don’t know anyone by the name Lionel Kral. Babe, I’m so sorry.”
My lungs compress, and I gasp for air. My chest feels so heavy, it constricts my airways.
“No. That’s not true, it can’t be true. Lionel works there, I’ve called the number on the card before.”
I hand the card to her. Alison looks at it for a moment, then snorts. “This isn’t the same number I called, Stella. Anyone can do this with the help of a computer and a good printer. This may be part of the deception.”
Deception for what?
I have no money. Why would a rich guy go to all this trouble? An easy lay?
Lionel and I had already had sex when he proposed. He didn’t need to marry me to get me into bed. Ours is or was a normal relationship.
Someone pinch me, please, I need to wake up from this bad dream.
“Jesus, take control of this situation,” says my mother, and Alison rolls her eyes.
“Right now Jesus needs to do more than take the wheel, ma’am.” Alison turns to me. “How come you aren’t packing? You need to go to Los Angeles and find out what’s going on.”
No,no,Idon’twanttothinkaboutitrightnow.Ican’t.
“Open the window, please, Mom.” My eyes burn with tears. The dam is breaking, and I’m about to drown.
She runs to do what I’ve asked, but not before shooting Alison a pleading look.
“What kind of evil game is this?” I cry, without speaking to anyone in particular.
My mother takes my hand, stroking my knuckles gently with her thumb. “We are going to pray that God gives us guidance because we are in the dark.”
A breath of air finally fills my body. I want an answer. I needan answer.
More than I need my next breath.
“You know what you have to do.” Alison tugs on my other hand. “Maybe Lionel had a reason, but he’s the only one who knows the
spinning. I’ve never gotten sick while riding in a car, but today is different, and nausea churns in my stomach.
Ignorance is bliss, but in this case the truth shall set me free.
I’m going to Los Angeles, and I’m getting the answers I deserve.
Lionel Kral will recover, and when he does, I’m going to kill him for all the lies he told me.
CHAPTER THREE
“Don’t forget to call as soon as you arrive, Stella,” my mother reminds me as we arrive at the airport.
I kiss her on the cheek. “Roger that, Sergeant.”
My mother makes a mouth gesture that’s so characteristic of her before she starts to flutter around me, making a mental inventory of what I’m taking.
“Look at the security line,” adds Ali. “You have to go right now.”
After another round of hugs and blessings, I get in line behind a group of smiling young women excited for their vacation.
I appreciate their shallow conversation, their talk about bikinis and lipstick distracts me from my problems or the ones I’ll face when I arrive in LA.
I sit in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the terminal while I wait to board the plane for my first flight ever. Flying doesn’t scare me, but my mind is a mess because I don’t know what I’ll find when I get to my final destination.
I called the hospital, but they refused to tell me anything, even after I told them I’m his wife. Marriage is supposed to make everything stronger. In my case, it feels like I’m trying to run a marathon while carrying a tractor’s wheel on my back.
Mission impossible.
A thousand things go through my mind, thoughts bigger than me and I don’t even understand them.
Lionel got assaulted in the middle of the street in broad daylight.
Someone wanted to kill my husband, who turns out is a real estate mogul.
And now he’s teetering between life and death—at least that’s what the news anchor said.
It’s overwhelming and disturbing.
The worst part is I don’t know what I’m going to do if something happens to him.
I thought that we’d grow old together, buy an old vineyard, and bring it back to life while raising our kids.
He stole those dreams from me with his lies.
And yet my heart aches for him, for what’s happening.
Whatkindoftroubledidyougetyourselfinto, Lionel?Why were youshot?
What’sgoingon?Whathaven’tyoutoldme?
The first of the two flights leaves me in a confused fog between despair and anger. Thinking about how small everything looks from above, how minuscule our existence is.
How vast the world is.
And yet, my entire world is laying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life.
The layover becomes long enough to drive me crazy, and with each passing mile, my anxiety grows and grows.
“You’re a nervous flyer, right?” I turn to see the man sitting next to me. He looks like the stereotypical grandfather from movies, with white hair, rosy cheeks, and a pair of reading glasses on the tip of his nose.
“It’s my first time,” I reply.
The man doesn’t say another word and I’m grateful for it.
After two flights, a layover, and being graced with the infamous Los Angeles traffic, I finally arrive at the hospital. I run up to the intensive care ward where a nurse sitting behind a desk asks for my identification. I provide what she needs, and she takes me to Lionel.
Nothing could have prepared me for the moment when the nurse opens a glass door and draws back the thick white curtain.
Lionel, laying on a bed with a big bruise on the left side of his face and a thousand tubes and cables coming out of him.
She looks me up and down, pointing to my long skirt and the wrinkled shirt I’m wearing.
Well, what did she expect? After all, I had to leave in a hurry to come see him.
“Look, ma’am, I didn’t expect to meet you under these circumstances.” The truth is, I didn’t even know of her existence until a few hours ago, but I swallow those words. “But I’m here and I’m staying.”
She looks at me like I slapped her and the nurse chooses this moment to intervene.
“I think we should take this discussion outside, Mr. Kral needs quiet.”
We both look at each other, ready to continue this duel of titans.
We go out into the hall, it’s just a few steps, but it feels like a journey.
“I don’t know who you are or where you came from, but you need to go.” Mrs. Kral has said those words in a mellow tone, but I can’t help but notice they were more a warning than a mere suggestion.
“I have every right to be here and nobody, not even you, can request me to leave.”
“We’ll see about that,” she says before turning to a man in a black suit standing by the door of the room. “Tom, get her out of here.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Someone puts a hand on my arm, and it isn’t until that moment, I realize there is another person here. A beautiful woman with long dark hair, impeccable taste in clothes, and the owner of brown eyes who is looking at me full of concern.
“Johanna,” she says to Lionel’s mother, but her gaze is still glued on me. “I think we should take a moment and let this girl explain what is going on.”
I’m sure those words were said to calm things down, but Mrs. Kral looks like someone slapped her in the face. Hard.
“Catherine,” she says. “I appreciate your good intentions. I know your husband is a very dear friend to my son, but this is a matter that only concerns the family.”
The brunette—Catherine—seems to have been prepared for that answer, because it doesn’t seem to bother her, she doesn’t even blink. Instead, she stands firm, her hand still on my arm and determination in her eyes.
“Look, Mrs. Kral, I understand your confusion, that makes two of us. I had to find out through the news what happened to my husband. I’ve been traveling all day, and I’m tired. I would like to speak to the doctor, no one has told me anythi—”
Johanna Kral opens her eyes, surprised by what I just told her. It’s the truth, whether she likes it or not.
“I don’t know why you’re here,” she cuts me off. “But you’re just a liar—a con artist. My son isn’t married, I would know. He’s my
son!”
She can think what she wants, but in this case, the liar here isn’t me.
“Look, I didn’t know of your existence until today. Lionel told me he grew up in the system and was nev—”
She opens her mouth, clearly offended by my words.
“Of course he was adopted, by us.”
Well, I can see that now.
“Lionel and I got married in Louisville at the end of the summer. I’ve been living in Carrollton my whole life.”
I tell her part of our story as a peace offering. I couldn’t care less that she doesn’t like me. The only thing that matters now is Lionel’s health.
“Kentucky? What was mysondoing in Kentucky?”
That is a question I also want to know the answer to.
Catherine’s hand on my arm tightens, silently inviting me to continue.
“I asked myself the same question when I found out what happened, and in LA of all places. He told me he worked in the Texas ar—”
Johanna holds up a hand, stopping my words, clearly upset about the situation.
“Stop, stop this nonsense,” she tells me. “My son has never been to Kentucky, let alone to meet a woman from there and marry her. His life is here in California with his family, his home, his business.”
I’d laugh if it weren’t for the fact that we both have been deceived.
“You know very little about Lionel’s life,” I tell her, children don’t tell their parents everything, clearly Lionel has been keeping secrets.
“I know everythingabout my son’s life.” Clearly not. “It’s obvious this is a made-up story just to get some information. You better leave now and don’t you dare publish anything. Money can buy many things, among them is the best legal team.”
She’s so fucking wrong because I’m not moving from here. My placeishere.
I’m sitting there scrolling through my phone when someone touches my shoulder.
“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but you know I was listening,” the same dark-haired woman who witnessed the discussion with Lionel’s mother tells me as she sits down in the chair next to me. “I’m Catherine Cole, my husband is Lionel’s friend.” On her left hand is a stunning diamond ring that shines, her husband was definitely making a statement by putting that rock on her finger.
I hope this isn’t some kind of scheme, because I like this woman, she has a friendly face. Had we met under other circumstances, I think we would be friends.
“Stella Kral,” I reply.
“Nice to meet you, Stella Kral.” She smiles as she pulls out a state-of-the-art phone from her designer purse.
I turn my attention back to my phone. My plan is to search the internet for something about California law. Our marriage is perfectly legal, and Lionel isn’t underage, so I need to talk with the hospital management and let them know what’s happening here.
There are many lies brewing up between us like a storm.
I amLionel’s wife, and I deserve to be treated as such.
I’m not going to let them silence my voice.
“So what is happening? How is it that Lionel got married without telling Johanna? He’s the apple of her eye, I’m sure the news of him being married must have been like being drenched with a bucket of ice water.”
“I’m as surprised as she is,” I admit, a little embarrassed but it’s the truth. Also, it wasn’t my choice to lie. “Lionel told me he grew up in an orphanage.”
Catherine smiles. “And he did, as I understand it, that story isn’t a secret. The Krals adopted Lionel when he was just over five years old. Lionel’s father, Anton, passed away a few years ago and since then Johanna’s life revolves around her son.”
Boy, it seems Lionel and I have something in common after all.
“I had no idea about any of this,” I start to tell her. “I swear, ’til this morning, I didn’t know about his money and business.”
“My husband is on his way,” she informs me. “So we have about twenty minutes for you to tell me everything before he arrives, then we’ll see what can be done.”
I tell her the story as best I can, even showing her some of our photos together.
“That’s definitely Lionel,” she says as she takes a look at my Instagram account.
“My mother made me bring my marriage certificate,” and that was such a blessing. “I think she had a hunch this wouldn’t be a pleasant meeting.”
Catherine chuckles. “Mothers know it all.” Then she bursts out laughing. “Well, unless you’re Johanna Kral. Sorry, I’m such a horrible person.”
I laugh too. “It feels like this is my first breath of fresh air, Catherine.”
She smiles again. “What are you planning to do, Stella?”
I sigh before answering because I need a moment to give her an honest answer. “I don’t know, I really don’t. The first thing is to focus on Lionel’s health. Once he’s conscious, he better start talking, and it needs to be the truth, for a change. In the end, I think I’m going back home.”
“Are you going to leave Lionel?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.
“I don’t know. Sometimes love isn’t enough and I’m not sure what he feels for me is love.” The air leaves my lungs, taking my strength with it. “I grew up feeling loved, Catherine. My parents had to make many sacrifices to buy a house, to have a good life. I thought that was what I was getting when I married Lionel, but all I got was a ton of lies. Now I don’t know what to do with them.”
Catherine’s phone pings and she hurries to reply to the upcoming text.
“Jackson’s here,” she informs me.
A couple of minutes later a very handsome man with dark hair and impressive blue eyes stands in front of us, bending down to kiss Catherine gently on the cheek.
Then his attention is on me.
“Jackson Cole, nice to meet you, Stella Kral.”
“Jackson,” Johanna Kral gasps as we appear from the hallway to the room where she’s sitting drinking her coffee. “What are you doing here with thatwoman?”
Jackson greets her and then nods to the man who dragged me out of this place a while ago.
“This woman, as you call her, is your son’s wife. Whether you like it or not, you can’t take away her right to be here just because you resent not being informed of their wedding.”
She makes a disgusted face, knowing what she has been told is true. Even if Jackson wasn’t here, I would have still gone to speak to the hospital director myself if it had been necessary. According to the webpage I visited, California’s law protects my marital status.
Johanna Kral will have to swallow this pill, no matter how hard and bitter it is.
She’s not the only one who has had to learn some shocking news in the last few hours.
“How do you know she’s telling the truth?” she exclaims. “How do you know she isn’t a gold digger?”
Jackson shoves his hands in his tailored pants pockets.
“Because I had my people investigate her on my way to the hospital, Johanna. Their marriage is legal, and there is nothing you can do about it.”
I stare at him with my mouth open. In response, Jackson shrugs.
“I think I was wrong hiring you to take care of my son’s safety,” she replies.
“Lionel’s safety couldn’t be in better hands,” Jackson argues. “My priority is to take care of him to the best of my ability. That extends to his family, which includes you, and now his wife.”
This time it is she who looks at him with her mouth open. “This scammer is not my son’s wife, that’s impossible.”
“According to my research, it’s perfectly possible. Lionel did marry her.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Jackson and Catherine have no idea how much it means to me that they’re standing by my side at a time like this, although Jackson made it clear his primary interest is in taking care of Lionel’s safety. In this shitty situation, teaming up with a friend like him is a true godsend.
Catherine took care of my little suitcase and brought me some dinner. I gave it a few bites, more for her sake than mine. I don’t want to be rude to someone who has shown me nothing but kindness even though we just met, and in such a confusing situation. She has offered me a shoulder to lean on and thanks to her I don’t feel so alone. In the midst of all this, I feel like a fish out of the water.
“You know? A few years ago, before we got married, Jackson was wounded in a hospital in Germany. I almost went crazy waiting for him to wake up. I don’t even want to imagine how you must be feeling between the anguish and despair of knowing Lionel isn’t the man you thought he was.”
I understand her solidarity and I appreciate it very much. However, you can’t cover the sun with your fingers. They aren’t my friends, they are part of Lionel’s team. Right now, I have no idea what that means.
“Mr. Kral’s doctor will be here in a few minutes,” the nurse informs us.
We are still in a private waiting room in this fancy hospital.
I’ve heard many times there are things that money can’t buy. You can buy care, but not health.
Everything here is top-notch, but the coffee still tastes bitter. There isn’t a single plastic chair around, and yet they still can’t give us comfort.
And as diligent nurses roam the halls ready to take care of Lionel, none of them can assure us that he will get better.
And no matter how hard I try, I can’t find peace. It’s like being in a windowless room from where I can’t find my way out. I still have a thousand questions in my mind and the uncertainty isn’t helping.
The only good news that brings some light in this darkness is that Lionel is still here with us, and while I don’t know much about his condition, just the fact he hasn’t given up, gives me hope.
I feel like a truck ran me over, I don’t even want to think about how I look. I’m clad in the same clothes I’d been wearing before I left for the airport yesterday. I have puffy eyes, and I haven’t combed my hair in what seems like days.
And the wait continues, the clock says it hasn’t been more than fifteen minutes since the nurse came to make her announcement, but by the time the door opens again, I feel like hours have passed.
Endless hours.
And I don’t have a single tear left. When my father died, my mother said that like the stars, they were infinite.
Something must have changed since then, or maybe our love wasn’t as strong. Perhaps what has happened in the last few hours is a clear sign of that.
“Mrs. Kral,” calls out a man walking toward us in blue scrubs and a pristine white coat.
“That’s me,” says Johanna, rising from her chair.
But before she can beat me, I’m already in front of the doctor, extending my hand to introduce myself.
Last night she refused to go home, and she was drinking coffee until she couldn’t handle it anymore and fell asleep.
What she didn’t count on was that the time zones were in my favor, by the time she woke up a couple of hours later, I already had
double my normal dose of caffeine, and already pestered the nurses for information.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Stella Kral, Lionel’s wife.”
The doctor raises his eyebrows. He opens his mouth to talk, but he stops himself.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Dr. Wong. Mr. Kral is stable, breathing on his own. Although his pressure has been fluctuating, we’re optimistic,” he begins. “As I was saying yesterday to Mrs. Kral, to Mr. Kral’s mother, the first hours are critical. In medicine, nothing can be taken for granted, but we’re hopeful he will recover.”
Those words are like a weight has been lifted and relief flows through my veins.
He’s going to be just fine.
“Today we will keep him sedated, his body needs time to rest. We are also giving him intravenous medication to avoid any infections, which is one of the leading post-op risks. If everything continues according to plan, tomorrow we will reduce the sedatives. This morning they did a CT scan. The reports show no bleeding, just a slight swelling on the right side of his head.”
God, I thought he was just shot. Whoever attacked him was determined to end his life. I need to talk with Jackson again, there is so much I don’t know.
“Are you sure, doctor?” Those words come out of my mouth before I can stop them, this whole situation is terrifying.
“We don’t know for sure, Mrs. Kral,” he says. “But the medical team in charge has made a good prognosis. The neurologist working with me is a world-renowned doctor. Dr. Cifuentes is very experienced. He’s getting the best ca—”
This time it’s Lionel’s mother who stops the doctor. “What about the wounds on the chest and abdomen?”
The doctor makes a face that to some may seem like a smile. “Your son was very lucky, he has no organ damage. We were surprised. If one of the bullets were a bit to the left…”
Just imagining it makes my skin crawl. A few inches could have meant that the mystics with the proverbial scissors would have cut his silver thread.
