Chapter 9 – Twist Of Fate

Anna After a long silence, I finally opened my eyes—only to find the grinning doctor watching me. That charming smile and those glistening grayish eyes had me captivated for a moment. He really was… quite charming. “You okay?” he asked, pulling me back from my trance. I nodded quickly, flustered for having stared. “Yeah.” “What did you wish for?” he asked. “It’s a secret,” I said with a small smile. “What about you? What did you wish for?” “I didn’t,” Dr. Anderson replied. “Why not?” I asked, genuinely intrigued. “Because it doesn’t come true,” Dr. Anderson replied solemnly. “Traumatized,” I noted. “How do you know?” he sighed. “Can you be any more obvious?” I laughed. He shrugged. “So, what’s the story?” I asked, intrigued. “It’s a secret,” Dr. Anderson said with a small smile. “Copycat,” I whispered. He chuckled but then suddenly paused. “You know, this is the longest conversation we’ve had since we met.” “True,” I agreed. “I’m curious… do you come up here often?” “It’s my getaway spot. When I feel down, depressed, or overwhelmed, I come here to let it all out,” he confessed. Ah. So I really am intruding… “Did something happen today?” I asked gently. I was careful not to intrude. “I lost a patient,” he said, his voice heavy with grief. “She didn’t have much, but her fighting spirit was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. No one expected her to relapse.” I could feel the pain in his tone—raw and genuine. “Can I ask what kind of illness?” I hesitated, not wanting to pry, but it seemed like he needed to talk. “Brain tumor,” he replied quietly. Cancer never has mercy on anyone. “If you look on the bright side… at least she’s not suffering anymore. You said she didn’t have much financially, right?” I offered gently. “For someone who’s lived so long in the dark, you sure know how to find the light,” he said, glancing at me with a faint trace of a smile. “If you only ever focus on the dark,” I replied, “you’ll never be able to see the light in life. It’s something I learned the hard way.” When you live in the shadows for too long, it's hard to miss even the faintest glimmer of light. “Wise words from a wise woman,” he muttered. “You might as well have just called me old,” I tutted. “Can I?” he teased. “Wanna try?” I challenged, raising a fist in mock threat. He raised an eyebrow, leaned back, and chuckled. “You’re so easily triggered. Here I thought you didn’t get mad at anyone,” Dr. Anderson teased again. “I’m no saint—just immune to certain people,” I said proudly. “Excluding me,” he pointed to himself. I nodded. “For some reason, my anger decided it doesn’t like you.” “You’re funny,” he said. “Your face is funny,” I joked, and we both laughed. This was the most relaxed I’d felt in a long time. But that was all—it was just a moment. I wouldn’t dare be greedy, or it would come back to bite me. I had fun—but all good things eventually come to an end. A chilly breeze sent a shiver down my spine, and I used it as an excuse. “Take your time. I’m heading back,” I said, turning to leave. “Wait,” he called out. “Can we be friends?” I froze. “No… we can’t.” I smiled sadly. “I’ve already ruined your life once. I won’t risk doing it again. The damage is more than I can carry.” With that, I gave him one last smile—a quiet wish for his happiness—and turned my back on him for good. Truth be told, in the short time we interacted, I could feel my walls beginning to crumble. Love runs deep—too deep and far too painful if I were to ruin it again. So, I tried to avoid Dr. Anderson as much as possible. But in a weird twist of fate, the more I tried to run from him, the more I ran into him—be it in the hallway, the canteen, the family bathroom, or even now. I was on my way back from a job interview and craving some coffee, so I stopped by a small shop just outside of town. And there he was, sipping from a steaming cup like he’d been waiting for me all along. When our eyes met, he smiled and waved me over. “Hi,” Dr. Anderson greeted. “Hello,” I replied, awkwardly. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Just finished a job interview,” I said. “What about you? What are you doing all the way across town?” “Just grabbing some coffee. The coffee here tastes amazing,” he praised casually. “Okay.” I nodded, still feeling a bit weirded out by the coincidence. “Number 44,” the lady at the counter called out. “That’s me,” I said, hurrying over to the counter with a quiet sigh of relief. Not planning to linger, I turned around and smiled politely. “Enjoy your coffee, Dr. Anderson,” I said, already plotting my quick escape. But, of course, nothing ever goes my way. “Join me,” Dr. Anderson offered casually. “I’m fine, I already have a ta—” I stopped mid-sentence, glancing around. Every table was taken. As if to emphasize the point, the lady at the counter called out, “We’re full!” loud enough for half the café to hear. Embarrassed, I turned back to him, smiling sheepishly. “Have a seat,” he offered again. This time, I accepted without hesitation. Once I settled in, I pulled out my phone and began scrolling through job listings. So far, every reputable company had turned me down. The ones that did offer me a position? Bottom of the barrel. The pay was miserable, the benefits nonexistent—and don’t even get me started on the octopus-armed boss who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Ugh. Just thinking about it gave me goosebumps. “Why are you looking for a job?” he asked. “I need money,” I answered bluntly. “Why? I thought your father had money,” Dr. Anderson said flippantly. “That’s their money, not mine,” I replied. “But you’re his biological daughter. Whatever he owns should eventually be yours,” he said, as if I were part of some fairy tale where love and blood were enough. I scoffed. “I’m his illegitimate blood daughter. He left me with nothing.” I said it like it was the most casual thing in the world—like it didn’t rip me apart inside every time I had to say it out loud. That shut him up. For a moment, he just sat there, leaning back in his seat, trying to make sense of it all. “I don’t get it,” Anderson muttered, confusion clouding his usually unreadable expression. “Fair enough,” he said, surprisingly calm. “What’s your degree in?” I paused and looked up, wary of the sudden interview energy. “Master Jeweler,” I replied flatly. “Any experience?” he asked. I frowned, not liking where this was going. “A couple years in design, competed in a few competitions… wait—” I narrowed my eyes. “Are you trying to hire me?” “Profile?” he asked, holding out his hand, but I hesitated. “Come on,” he urged again. “No,” I said firmly. “I won’t apply to Anderson Corp.” “Why not? Don’t you need the money?” he asked, confused. “I do,” I admitted, “but I don’t want to get a job through connections.” “Is it really such a loss to get a job through me?” he challenged. “No,” I replied quietly. “I just don’t know how to face everyone at the company. I’m already at the lowest point in my life. I don’t want anyone stepping on me any more than they already have. Please… just allow me some dignity.” I lowered my gaze, ashamed of my past and afraid of what they’d say if I walked through those doors again. “If that’s the case, then I have a solution. Let’s go.” Dr. Anderson stood up and motioned for me to follow. “To where? Don’t you have work?” I asked, reluctantly. “No, it’s my day off,” he replied. “Then why are you here?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I was…” He paused, eyes darting around. “…here to get coffee.” He hesitated, so I pushed further. “All the way across town? Very suspicious.” I eyed him with growing suspicion. “Oi, why are you asking so many questions? Let’s go already,” he tutted, clearly annoyed. “I haven’t even eaten yet,” I argued, holding my food protectively. “Take it to go,” he said—and then, without another word, practically shoved me into his car. He drove us straight to Anderson Corp and parked in the president’s spot. The man hopped out enthusiastically and came around to open the passenger door for me. But I wasn’t having it. He opened the door—I slammed it shut. He opened it again—I shut it again. “What is it this time?” he asked, clearly annoyed. “Let’s go in separately,” I suggested. I let my guard down for one second—and he took the chance to yank the door open, pulling me out in the process. “We’re already here. Let’s just go in together,” Dr. Anderson said firmly. I shook my head. “You’re really not going to go?” he asked one last time. I nodded. “Then I have no choice but to carry you. Just imagine the attention that’ll attract,” he said. I bit my lip and cursed him to hell. “Ugh! What is wrong with you? Why are you always inserting yourself into my life?” “You leave me no choice.” Dr. Anderson bent down, reaching for me. Panicking, I scurried away. “Stop, stop—fine! I’ll walk!” I snapped. “That’s it. You don’t have to complicate things,” Dr. Anderson said, satisfied. As we walked in, every pair of eyes in the building seemed to lock on us. Maybe it was the rare appearance of Dr. Anderson, or maybe it was the fact that he was walking beside his ex-wife. Either way, I felt completely out of place. Though he rarely visited the company, he had access to everything—including the president’s elevator—thanks to his status as a shareholder and family member. He took me straight up in that elevator, all the way to Tyson’s office door. “Anna…” Celine chimed when she saw me. The woman was still as beautiful as ever. “This way. Tyson is expecting you.” “He knows?” I asked, confused. “Max called earlier,” Celine said. I nodded. I should’ve known. I followed her, dread crawling up my legs with every step. After three soft knocks, we were granted permission to enter. The moment Celine stepped through the door, the once-intimidating CEO’s expression softened—his gaze filled with affection and adoration as it landed on his wife. A look I couldn’t help but envy. “Your guest are here.” Celine said and offered us seats. “Thank you, served us water please,” he said to his wife. Celine agreed with a smile before walking away. “Can I see your profile?” Tyson asked. I hesitated, then slowly slid the folder across the desk. Tyson took it, flipped through the pages briefly, then said, “Max, leave us alone.” Dr. Anderson didn’t look pleased, but he begrudgingly stepped out of the room. “Do you have anything you want to tell me?” Tyson asked, his tone sharp and unreadable. “No,” I replied quietly. “Then why are you here?” he pressed, voice firm and unrelenting. “Dr. Anderson dragged me here,” I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral. “Is that all… Crimson Nova?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he scrutinized me. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, suddenly feeling exposed—like he could see right through me.