Her Lion Billionaire(14)

Charlotte bounced up onto her heels and her enthusiasm was rewarded with  a slight feeling of vertigo. The world spun and twirled like the inside  of a snow globe. She clutched her head and stayed still until she found  her equilibrium.

Her eyes darted toward the door, which now stood slightly ajar, where  the delightful aroma wafted and enticed her to get up. She followed the  temptation without hesitation. Her stomach rumbled, and suddenly she  felt very, very hungry. Famished almost.

She pushed the door open. The scenery changed.

She found herself in the old house. Grandmaman's old farmhouse in  Wisconsin, where she and her mother had lived for the first few years of  her life. She'd forgotten about it, but now it all came back vividly.  The peeling wallpaper. The scent of the recently waxed wooden floor. The  rickety noises when she walked in certain parts of the house.

It felt like …  home.

And it was good.

Charlotte hadn't felt such peace in a long time.

She followed her nose and arrived at the kitchen.

A tall man with long black hair, dressed in a simple white shirt and  brown khaki pants, was bustling around in front of the stove. With a  spatula in his hand, he deftly juggled between flipping pancakes and  juicing freshly cut oranges.

She'd never met him, and yet he seemed so familiar.

The slender man looked ageless. He had a beautiful face, too pretty for a  man, and he looked inhuman. His dark brows were lush, his eyes inky  black. A smile curved at the corners of his lips, and peace radiated  from his being. At the moment, he emanated an aura of pleasantness, like  a perfect summer day on the lake, but it wasn't everlasting. At any  moment, it could change, and a terrible storm could rage and wipe away  everything in its path.

The man sensed her presence. "Hello, sleepyhead. I see you finally woke  up. Get a seat and have your breakfast before it gets cold."

The pancakes looked yummy. The milk in the tall glass practically begged  to be drunk. She felt a compulsion to run to that man and hold him  tight.

Charlotte fisted the fabric of her dress. "Who are you?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

The man paused. He beamed at her. "I'm your father. Don't be silly."

Ah. This explained everything. Well, kind of.

Charlotte obediently trudged to the table and took a seat. She'd just  noticed that her hair was in twin pigtails. Red checkered ribbons  adorned each one. One of the ribbons was undone, and the man who claimed  to be her father fixed it with fatherly affection.   





 

She blinked. She remembered the last thing recorded in her mind. About a  car that had sent her flying into the rose bushes. The shock and the  pain. The last moment of her life on Earth. Her throat tightened all of a  sudden.

It took her dying to finally meet her father.

"Where were you all this time, Dad?" she asked. "I've missed you."

The man, the Sandman, the Lord of Dreams, paused and smiled. His eyes were hooded. Sadness and sorrow were palpable.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, for not being around in your life. I wasn't  allowed to see you in person as much as I wanted to. But I have always  been watching you. Looking after you from the Dreamscape. You don't know  how happy I am to finally see you face to face." He stroked her hair  gently. "My precious daughter. You have your mother's eyes."

Charlotte grabbed her father's hand and pressed it against her cheek. It felt warm and comforting.

She'd resented this man her entire life. She'd vowed she wouldn't  forgive him even if hell froze over. Now she realized that she'd carried  all that anger because she'd yearned for this moment. She'd grown up  without him, with no father figure to look up to.

Charlotte Winters didn't know she'd been starved of her father's love.





Daniel Addington climbed down from the helicopter, eyes steely and face  grim. His entourage in tow was equally perturbed. His silence made his  underlings uneasy, and it showed on their faces. He'd worked them to the  bone since he'd decided to petition a judge to grant him power of  attorney for Charlotte. His staff had lobbied some politicians, judges,  hospital administrators and some important people that could help smooth  things over to help Charlotte's cause. From his underground network,  Daniel had also put a reward on the black market for organ donors in the  event his quest to obtain them legally was unsuccessful. Daniel didn't  want to take any chances. He had to save Charlotte no matter what it  cost.

And, he vowed with vehemence, if this accident wasn't merely a  coincidence, the guilty person would have hell to pay because he'd  personally deliver the punishment.

He stood on the tarmac of the helipad on top of the Manhattan skyscraper  he owned. His men waited, ready to escort him to his next  destination-Bellevue hospital. Daniel wanted to meet Charlotte's mother  and personally ask for her help to save her daughter. The doctors at  Bellevue had informed him that Mary-Anne had been in a catatonic state  these past few years, but Daniel wanted to try anyway. Even though they  wouldn't be able to communicate, he wanted to pay respects to the woman  who'd given birth to Charlotte.

The drive to Bellevue took almost an hour. It was past visiting hours  when Daniel arrived. He was denied entrance by the security guards even  though prior arrangements had been made with the facility director  himself. His aide flustered as he took a hold of the situation. It  turned out that the shift rotation had caused the problem; the fresh  guards had no knowledge of the arrangement.

When Daniel brusquely headed to Mary-Anne's room, the tension was high.

"Mr. Addington, excuse me, are you Daniel Addington?" called a man in a  doctor's coat when Daniel walked by the nurse's station. His nametag  read Dr. L. Greene. He was Mary-Anne's doctor.

Daniel stopped. "Yes, I'm Daniel Addington."

"It's really you. We've talked on the phone. I'm Laurent Greene," said  the doctor. "It's nice to finally meet you in person. Is there something  wrong?"

"I've come to see Mary-Anne Winters. I believe you authorized my visit and approved the patient transfer."

The doctor was flummoxed. "I don't understand. Your assistant picked up  Mrs. Winters about fifteen minutes ago. I signed the release myself."

Daniel went rigid. "My assistant picked up Mrs. Winters in person?"

"Yes. Is there some kind of problem?"

"I did not order any of my men to pick up Mrs. Winters."

Dr. Greene's face became pale.

"How did this happen?" Daniel let his irritation leak into his tone. "I  believe I clearly stated in our phone conversation that I would see Mrs.  Winters in person."

"Ah, yes. But then your assistant-"

"What's his name?" Daniel interjected.

"Jackson. I just know him by his last name. Look, his credentials were  properly documented. He wrote down his name in the visitor's book-"

"I don't employ an immediate assistant named Jackson. What does he look like?"

Dr. Greene became very uncomfortable. "Regular gentleman. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Normal build … "   





 

Daniel signaled his security executive to handle the rest. "Dr. Greene,"  said Daniel. His voice was kinder. "Would you show me Mrs. Winters'  room?"

"Absolutely." The psychiatrist collected himself. "This way, please."

Daniel followed Dr. Greene with firm strides. "How is Mrs. Winters' condition as per your last assessment, Doctor?"

"Fairly healthy, I'd say. All vitals were within normal range considering she'd relapsed into her previous catatonic state."

Daniel glanced at him. "Mrs. Winters still isn't mentally coherent?"

"She's in a catatonic stupor. She's shown very little reaction when we  introduced some stimuli. Although she has shown some symptomatic relief  when we gave her the first line treatment of benzodiazepines. However,  she needed a higher dose each time and soon her body became immune … "

She won't be able to say anything if I ask her to help her daughter,  thought Daniel, ignoring Greene's rambling. "Doctor," he cut the  psychiatrist short. "Can Mary-Ann Winters be a candidate to be an organ  donor?"

Dr. Greene thought for a second. "I wouldn't recommend it considering  her age and the complications from the medication she is taking. Here's  Mrs. Winters' room."

One step in and a sense of dread smothered Daniel. The room was barely  furnished. The table, chair and bed were bolted to the floor. No  personal belongings were present anywhere. "Rather bare, don't you  think?" Daniel commented.

"A precaution we take considering her state of mind, and that she was institutionalized in the first place."

The phone in Daniel's jacket rang. Unknown number. He answered it nevertheless.

"Alpha," greeted a familiar voice on the other end.

It was his brother, Jeremy. "Whatever you want, make it quick," said  Daniel curtly. He hadn't forgotten the last time Jeremy had defied him  in front of the family and members of the pride.

"You will make time for me, brother." Jeremy's voice was sly. "I believe you're missing something-somebody actually."