A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss novel Chapter 4

Madison

The shrill ring pierced through our conversation like divine intervention. I almost wept with relief.

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “That’s your phone.”

Oh. Right. My phone. The one currently screaming from my pocket like a banshee with its vocal cords caught in a blender.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Knight.” I fumbled my phone, almost dropping it before answering. “Hello?”

“Is this Madison Harper?” A clinical voice cut through the line.

“Speaking.”

“This is Metro General Hospital. Your mother, Sarah Harper, was brought to our emergency room-”

The world tilted sideways. The pristine office, Alexander’s expensive desk, the Manhattan skyline – everything blurred into meaningless shapes.

“What happened? Is she-”

“She’s stable now, but we need you to come in immediately.”

I shot up from my chair. “I’ll be right there.”

“Madison?” Alexander’s voice snapped me back to reality. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom—she’s in the ER. I have to go —” I gestured vaguely at the door.

“John will take you.”

“What? No, I can’t-”

“John,” Alexander spoke into his phone. “Meet Miss Harper downstairs. Take her to Metro General.”

“Mr. Knight, really, I can-”

“Go.” His tone left no room for argument.

The elevator ride felt endless. John, Alexander’s driver, waited by the sleek black car. He opened the door without a word, his usual stern expression softened with concern.

Traffic crawled like molasses. I bounced my knee, checking my phone every thirty seconds. John caught my eye in the rearview mirror.

“We’ll be there in five minutes, Miss Harper.”

The hospital smell hit me first – that distinct mix of antiseptic and despair. I rushed to the reception desk. “Sarah Harper? She was brought in-”

“Room 304.” The nurse pointed toward the elevator. “Dr. Matthews is waiting to speak with you.”

Mom looked small in the hospital bed, tubes snaking from her arms. But she was alive. Breathing. The monitor’s steady beeping became my favorite sound in the world.

“Ms. Harper?” A doctor materialized beside me, clipboard in hand. “Your mother experienced severe complications from her condition. We managed to stabilize her, but she’ll need specialized medication moving forward.”

I nodded, relief making my knees weak. “Whatever she needs.”

“The treatment plan…” He hesitated. “It’s rather extensive. The medications alone-”

My stomach dropped as he quoted the figure. The number had more zeros than my bank account had seen in its entire existence.

“I understand.” My voice came out steadier than I felt. “I’ll handle it.”

The doctor nodded and left me alone with Mom and my spinning thoughts. The amount he’d quoted could buy a luxury car or a designer handbag if you shopped where Alexander did.

The hospital bill loomed over me like a cartoon anvil, ready to drop. My savings wouldn’t cover half of it. My credit cards were already maxed from the last hospital stay.

I slumped into the plastic chair next to Mom’s bed, designed to make visitors uncomfortable. Maybe they thought discomfort would make people leave faster. Joke’s on them – I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Of course, we can set up a payment plan,” the billing specialist chirped, way too perky for someone dropping financial nuclear bombs. Her badge read ‘Janet.’

“Great.” I forced a smile. “I’ll definitely handle that.” Handle it how? By robbing a bank? Starting an OnlyFans? Selling my organs on the black market?

Janet slid the paperwork across the table, her French manicure tapping against the forms. “Just sign here, here, and… here.” She pointed to various dotted lines like she gave directions to Disney World instead of financial ruin.

I scribbled my signature, trying not to think about how each stroke of the pen was basically signing away my firstborn child—and possibly my second and third—just to cover the deductible.

“Perfect!” Janet beamed. “The financial office will contact you to set up the payment schedule.”

“Can’t wait,” I muttered, watching her bounce away in her sensible shoes. I bet she had great health insurance.

Mom stirred in her sleep, and I reached for her hand. The monitor beeped steadily, each sound representing another dollar I didn’t have. At this rate, I’d need to win the lottery. Too bad I couldn’t afford lottery tickets anymore.

When I finally got home, my apartment felt empty and cold. I’d stayed at the hospital until visiting hours ended, watching Mom sleep and trying not to hyperventilate over the mounting bills.

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