Hired for the Billionaire's Son

DANTE

Dante was aware that his son was full of surprises. The little boy said the most unexpected things, words that would jumble one's thoughts and leave one tongue-tied.

Today, during their drive back home, the kid had asked a rather innocent question; yet, Dante had no answer for his son. Even as he scanned some documents in his office, the question still floated in his mind, disturbing his peace.

"Daddy, when will I have a new mommy?" the boy had inquired from Dante.

This question was rather different and milder than the intricate questions the little boy normally asked. But Dante would rather answer a million of those than the one thrown at him at that moment.

So, he had glanced at his son briefly and focused back on the road ahead before he responded, "El, let me focus on driving."

He was fortunate enough that Elon did not prod any further even after they had gotten home. If the kid had given up or had just forgotten, he did not know. But one thing he knew was that he would be cornered with the same question again, sooner or later.

As he stacked papers neatly, he decided that that would be a problem to worry about later. But as he strode out of his study, he heard the most heart wrenching scream he had heard in his life, one that felt like a bullet in his heart and sent painful shivers down his spine.

That was his son's voice. His Elon had let out that scream filled the darkest of terrors. He did not even realize it when the movement of his strides gained speed and he was sprinting down the hallway.

As soon as he reached the flight of stairs, he stopped right in his tracks. The sight before him had rendered him stiff and unable to inhale. Nothing in this world could have prepared him for the gore he was beholding. And his son was right in the middle of it all, looking like every source of life had drained from his body.

When Dante managed to croak out a question, it was, "what happened?"

With quivering lips, one of the housekeepers responded, "he slipped from the top of the stairs."

'From the top of the stairs,' he reasoned to himself. A flight of stairs that had over fifty steps, his son had slipped from there. And that was when a sense of urgency sparked in his head, numbing the waves of shock he was feeling just seconds ago.

He lifted his son from the pool of blood and ran as fast as he could out of the door and into his car. Against the steering, his fingers shivered. He had never been that scared in his life, not even when he witnessed his deceased wife at gunpoint. And he, Elon, was the only piece of her he had left.

His world would crumble into dust if anything should happen to the boy.

He must have violated a thousand speed limits that night, maybe a thousand and one, but they had reached the hospital within a few minutes. And as he watched nurses gather his son, rolling him into the emergency room, he sent a silent prayer to heaven.

If God were to any of his prayers, this should be the one to consider.

•°•°•

His knees were beginning to hurt from pacing to and fro in front of the ward. Nobody had come out to give him any update, and all the staff he had asked all told him the same stupid sentence,

"Sir, you need to calm down."

But how!? How was he supposed to be calm when it felt like there was only a thin chance that his son would come out of this? The only tinge of hope he had to hold on to was that silly little prayer he made moments ago. And now, he was seriously fighting the urge to burst through those doors to see things for himself.

With his sleeve, he wiped the little dots of perspiration that had formed on his forehead; despite the air conditioner on full blast, sweat still broke through his skin.

Just when he was about to stop another passerby nurse to bombard with questions, the double doors opened. That expression the doctor's face carried, he did not like it; the man looked downcast, and when Dante's eyes met with his, they held an emotion Dante both hated and feared: pity.

And for the first time in a while, Dante felt weak, helpless even. Within him, he hoped that that would be a prank, the way that doctor was looking at him, just like those tv series his wife used to watch.

"He's alive." the doctor started, and all the air trapped in Dante's lungs escaped with a sigh, it was a little easier for him to breath now.

"But,"

That one word from the doctor siezed Dante's breath again. Buts were never good news; at least, not one that came from a doctor staring at him with utmost pity and concern.

"He has sustained a series of injuries," the doctor let out a heavy breath. "Contusions, dislocations, and..." the man pursed his lips for a moment, and Dante's heart missed a beat in that moment, too. Then he continued, "he also has an injury to his spinal cord."

Dante staggered backwards, his knees had suddenly grown even weaker, so much so that he had to support his weight against the wall. He knew what that meant, even before the doctor said it to him.

"Your son may never be able to walk again."

DANTE

[A few days later.]

"El, I know you can hear me." He, in fact, did not know that, but he could only hope so. He held on to that tinge of hope with all he had. He could not bear the thought of living without his son. Even though the kid frustrated him sometimes, he was still his favourite person on earth.

The boy had only opened his eyes twice since the accident, and he could only smile with his eyes whenever he locked gazes with his father. Even his gaze looked weak, one could tell that his vision was hazy. Dante hated seeing him that way.

"Please, come out of this for me." He pleaded as a drop of tear escaped his eye. But as he heard the door of the ward swing open, he immediately wiped that tear off. Nobody was allowed to see him cry.

"Sir." He heard the doctor say as he approached. He decided he was not going to respond, because any attempt to speak would have had him breaking down again, he could not let that happen. Instead, he acknowledged the man with a stiff nod and pursed lips.

He watched as the doctor examined his son and took notes. He tried to scan the man's facial expressions for any sign of progress, but it was useless, the man's face was as blank as a white wall, no expression.

And when the doctor looked at him with his lips stretching in a small smile, something in his chest tingled. That had to mean something good. Doctors did not smile when it came to announcing bad news.

"His vitals are now stable," the doctor said to Dante.

A breath escaped Dante's lips at that moment, it felt like something heavy had been lifted off his back. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Elon's forehead.

He had missed his son a lot, especially those tricky questions of his. At home, it felt really weird knowing that his son was not even there. It felt empty, like it was just a house, not a home. It only dawned on him how much he actually loved listening to the boy's endless questions now that he was not able to do so.

So, he asked the doctor, "is it possible that he continues his recovery at home?"

The doctor seemed to be reasoning for a while, weighing some options. Then he replied, "if you're able to provide all the equipment that he'll need, I don't see why not." he shrugged. "We'll also assign a nurse that will watch over him at your house."

"Fine." Was all Dante said. By now, it should have been obvious that money was not a problem for him; at least, not when it came to his son. He was ready to pay anything.

"I'll begin with the arrangements." The doctor announced before leaving the ward.

Dante felt like he could finally breathe air again. The past few weeks, he had felt like he was choking, and sometimes, he would not even be able to breathe. Elon was his source of strength, he was surely going to die too if the boy did. That boy was his lifeline.

Still hoping that his son could hear him, he took the boy's hand and whispered, "You're coming home, El."

•°•°•°•

Elon's room had lost the life it used to have. There used to be colours, art, and his bright presence to bring everything together; now, the room had been converted into a ward and the air in the room sometimes smelled of medications.

It was a sickening and depressing sight for Dante to behold.

At least he is here, Dante thought. He was going to have comfort in the fact that his son was home and was in the best conditions to recover properly.

Now, the boy was able to stay awake, although he could not yet talk like he used to. The smile in the kid's eyes always warmed Dante's chest and sparked hope in him, that was what kept him strong.

"His joints are almost completely healed." Someone had spoken. Dante's eyes moved from his son's face and landed on hers. He had even forgotten that she was in the room at the moment.

Genesis was what she had called herself, the nurse assigned to take care of his son. Genesis Cruz.

"He's making progress." She added as he still had not responded, she was smiling as she spoke.

"Good." was all he said to her, with a firm nod.

She gave a tight-lipped smile, an awkward one, and walked past him with a steel tray. He was now alone with his son.

His eyes raked the boy's room and that dark feeling returned to him. And then his eyes landed on a photo of her, right beside Elon's bed. Evelyn. His heart still called out to her, and that longing grew even more with each passing day.

Sometimes, he wished that he would wake up one day and find out he had been living a bad dream all the while, that she was actually still there with him, and he would see her face again and hold her in his arms. He hoped for that. But, deep down, he knew all too well that that was his reality.

She was gone. Forever.

And as he stared at the piece of her that he had left, his heart bled.

"You have to bounce back." He whispered to his son. "Please."

He buried his face in his palms, elbows hoisted on his knees. He had not felt this weak since he lost Evelyn.

He heard the nurse walk back in the room and immediately straightened his posture, adjusting his tie and dusting invisible dust off his sleeves.

His eyes stinged but he did everything to fight back the tears that threatened to pour out of his eyes. And then, without a single word to the nurse, he got up and exited the room.

DANTE

He had taken to having dinner with his son. The dining table was cold without Elon there with him.

The boy was recovering beautifully, Dante could tell from the way he freely swallowed the spoonsfull of beans that the nurse was feeding him. A while ago, he would have moaned in pain and spat the food out.

He even spoke more often lately, like now, he had faced the nurse with his prickly questions. At first, he had asked, "can I call you Jenny?"

Dante thought this quite unusual. Not because his son was a broody, no. But because his son was not one to give out nicknames, not even he had a nickname from his son.

When the nurse expressed her approval with a gentle nod and a smile, the kid mirrored her expression and told her, "you look more beautiful when you smile."

Another unusual occurrence. Dante could not help but frown. Aside the fact that the boy had made a habit of asking the world's most uncomfortable questions, he also loved to indulge in what he called 'roasting'. Just a few days before his accident, he had told Dante that he walked like an upright toad.

Elon was not one to dish out compliments. The last person he did that for was his mother.

Again, the nurse smiled and responded with a thank you.

"But why do you always stay silent?" Elon shot another question at the poor nurse. Dante may have burst out laughing if his mouth had not been stuffed with food. "You are like a ghost, but alive."

The nurse's cheeks flushed red as let out a little giggle. "I'm on my own here." She said to the boy. "I have nobody to talk to."

"Well, my daddy can be your friend."

Those words must have forced Dante's food to take the wrong route, as he was now coughing and desperately hitting his chest. That kid was going to be the death of him.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breath. In, out, in, out, he breathed. And when he could finally inhale properly, he became aware of the soft taps on his back. He opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder, and saw that it was the nurse there, her face painted with worry.

"Stop." He did not intend to sound that rough. In fact, he almost apologized, but his ego was all too large for that. And the nurse had to understand that women were supposed to keep a certain distance from him.

"You're not allowed to touch me." was the next thing he said to her. Now, he looked at the rest of his food and it reppelled him; his appetite had surely flown out the window.

The room had even gotten hotter from the awkward silence that had ensued. Dante could no longer bear it, so he stood up and announced that he had some work to get to. But he only left the room once he had placed a soft kiss on his son's forehead.

GENESIS'S POV

A strange man he was, her patient's father. One had to be very careful around the man as it was impossible to tell what could upset him.

He was one hell of an unusual man, nothing like anyone she had ever met. Her heart usually ceased to beat whenever her eyes met his dark brown ones. It looked like a swirl that could suck her in if she got too close. Looking in his eyes felt like everything scary and gruesome. She did not like it, so she did everything to avoid his gaze.

She had already put the little boy to sleep and she was preparing to depart for her home. But the sudden chime of her phone interrupted her routine, causing her to jerk. Sara. Her best friend's name flashed across the screen. That alone was enough to stretch her lips in a wide smile.

"Where are you!?" Sara was practically screaming on the other end. Genesis's smile was quickly replaced with a frown as the noise from wherever her friend was invaded her ears. "You should join me out here. Jee Spot."

Of course, Sara was out partying. She should have known.

She sighed softly and shook her head. "No, Sara, I just clocked out and I am very tired."

"You're boring." If she had a dollar every time Sara had told her that, she would have had enough money to buy her own island by now.

"I'm aware." Was the response she gave her friend, and without waiting for any response, she dropped the call. Heaven knew she did not have the strength for Sara's nonsense at that moment.

And just as she turned around, she almost let out a screech. It had taken all of her self will to not scream as her eyes landed on the man. The boy had said that she was like a ghost, but it was his father that moved like one. Because how did he get in the room without making a single sound?

He was looking at her like she had just sprouted from the floor, his brows slightly furrowed. Meanwhile, she hoped that the floor would open up and swallow her. She hated being subject to his gaze.

She cleared her throat loudly, an attempt to fill in the awkward silence. It was always that way whenever he was around: awkward.

"Why are you still here?" He asked her out of nowhere. The question confused her a little bit as she was not sure why he would be asking such. Did he suddenly forget that she was his son's nurse? She could only gape at him as she wondered what the hell was up with him.

"It's already 11pm." He let her know, and her eyes immediately darted to the clock hanging right above the boy's bed. Seven minutes past eleven.

Her shoulders slacked as she slapped her hand over her forehead in frustration. She had not realized that it had gotten that late.

"I'm sorry." she began, foundling with her fingers. "The boy found it difficult to fall asleep." The kid had kept asking her questions that almost made her pull all her hair out. She had almost cried tears of joy when he had finally fallen asleep.

"All right." The man-Dante, as she had learned was his name-gave one of his usual firm nods. "My driver and two of my men will accompany you home."

"Th-thank you." She forced a smile a briskly rushed out of the room, making sure to not touch him.

She found herself able to breathe properly again once she exited the room, that man's presence had stilled the air. As soon as she finished descending the flight of stairs, she sighted a middle aged man in all black mounted at the door.

He must have called them already. She thought.

"After you, ma'am." The man gestured out the door with a little bow.