Page 5 of Embrace Me Forever

I drive home, my usually methodical mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear. Coco cries in her car seat, her tiny face contorted in agony. I keep glancing back at her, murmuring soothing words that I hope will bring some comfort, though I know they do little to ease her pain.

“I know, sweetie. Your head is hurting, isn’t it?” My voice cracks, wishing I could take the pain for her.

At last, we reach home. I give her the medications, praying they’ll bring the relief she so desperately needs. I sit by her side, stroking her hair, watching her drift off to sleep. The thought of her taking her last breath is more than I can bear.

As the pressure threatens to crush me, my sister Anne arrives home from work. On paper, Georgia-May Williams is a single woman with a Denver address. But in reality, Coco and I live with Anne in Colorado Springs.

One look at my face, and my sister knows the news is bad.

“Oh, Gi, I’m so sorry,” she whispers, pulling me into a hug.

We stand there, holding each other, until I finally pull back and wipe my eyes. “She needs another surgery, and I need to find the money fast.”

“I’ll get us a loan,” she says resolutely.

Anne knows I’ve been desperately trying to find a way to earn more, even before today’s news. But she doesn’t know the full story of what happened in England. The less she knows, the better for her safety. I’ve only been looking at math-related jobs—stable but low-paying. A lucrative position, the kind that could cover Coco’s medical expenses and keep us afloat, would mean sacrificing our anonymity.

We’re facing an impossible situation without insurance, a bitter irony indeed. But I’m under no illusion about Bertram’scontinued interest in me. They’re cunning, and I can’t risk exposure.

I shake my head at my sister’s offer to help. “Anne, they rejected you last time. It won’t be any different now. Let me handle it. You’ve done so much for me already.”

“Hey, I’m your sister.”

Not wanting to dwell on my emotions, I shift into solution mode. “Help me brainstorm, then. Where can I get the money? And just to be clear, I’m not looking for a marriage proposal, okay?”

Her giggle fills the room, reflecting her usual tease about me finding a billionaire, steering clear of her so-called ‘commoner’ path. She’s overdosed on love stories!

“All right, no need to walk down the aisle,” she quips. “Maybe you could hustle a job with someone like Musk or Zuckerberg and turn the cash faucets on full blast. I know Bertram was a shark, but this time, you could be the one in control, sis.”

I shudder, the thought unappealing. “Nah, they’d probably drain me dry before they handed out a cent. I just don’t have that cutthroat vibe in me.”

Anne pauses, tapping her chin. “How about your university? Aren’t there any ridiculously wealthy benefactors who might be desperate for a slice of your brainy pie?”

Restraining a smile, I shrug. Most people think mathematicians huddle in ivory towers, scribbling formulas that unravel the cosmos. Sadly, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing to support myself and Coco. Not exactly the big bucks, and my allocated hours keep declining each month.

“I’ve got that computer science degree gathering dust somewhere…” I trail off.

“Maybe it’s time to dust off those old powers. What’s stopping you? Old coding flings haunting your hard drive?”

I let out a small laugh. “Something like that.”

The thought of dealing with machines again gives me the creeps—too many memories of Sebastian and the dangers of diving back into programming. It’s a small world, and a few keystrokes could tip Bertram off to my location. Besides, if I’m honest, my math skills have been in the spotlight for so long that my coding abilities are practically in hibernation.

Anne’s voice drops to a covert murmur. “Sounds like it’s time for a geeky awakening, Gi. Let’s reboot the system!”

Her enthusiasm brushes on me. The risk I’m considering doesn’t seem as daunting compared to Coco’s health. Pondering her wild ideas, I muse aloud, “So, what might billionaires need?”

“Fast cars. Beautiful women.”

I give a self-deprecating laugh. “Guess I’ll be no use, then.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. Cars exist because of numbers, right? People are obsessed with speed. Today’s fast is tomorrow’s slow. Plus, you’re an attractive mathematician. That’s the ultimate package.”

I roll my eyes. “Right, because every billionaire’s dreaming of solving equations with a hot math nerd.”

Anne bursts out laughing. “Exactly! You’re their ultimate fantasy. Those big gray eyes, full lips—totally natural, no filler—and those athletic legs. Though, maybe a trip to the salon wouldn’t hurt for a little hair makeover?”

I can’t help but smile. She always knows how to pull me out of my sorrow.

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