CHAPTER 2

MILES:

“Grenada, I told you that I’m fine. I don’t need babysitting. If I’ve lived this long, survived a heart transplant, recuperating shouldn’t be an issue.”

“I’m just doing my job, Mr. Pierce. Besides, you signed an agreement to allow me to handle your health for life. Now, you’ve to follow my guideline for six months, and you can fully go back to doing what you want.”

It was getting annoying that after my heart transplant and successfully getting discharged two weeks ago, everyone has been treating me like a vegetable. No one seems to be listening to my instructions or following my orders. As a matter of fact, I came back to meet my security team tripled and when I confronted my head of security, he said that it was an instruction I had given before the surgery. They made it look like I had partial amnesia because I couldn’t remember initiating numerous changes that were made to my schedule, house, and staff.

Not to worry, in a little time and things will go back to how it was. Meaning that so many people will be losing their job. Do they think that I’ve changed or something as minor as this would slow me down? If I was prepared for death, and yet life gave me a second chance, the least I can do is make the most out of it.

For those who don’t know me, my name is Miles Pierce. The most feared thirty-four-year-old billionaire in California. I have dominated the business aspect of California and the world, building numerous companies that rake in roughly a billion dollars in a year after tax. When it comes to looks, I know that I’m a rare work of creation and my workout routine has helped me to maintain it. Although one can never have everything and that was my case until an unexpected miracle happened.

Three years ago, I had a perfect life and everything was smooth until they found a lump in my heart during one of my health checkups. Initially, I was told not to worry and that it wasn’t something to worry about. After a few medications and minor surgery, it should be gone. At least that is what my doctor told me. With reassurance, I went back to my normal daily activities, listening and following instructions.

As the universe had other plans for me, I was scheduled for a follow-up checkup to know about things.

“Mr. Pierce,” I remembered vividly, that was how Grenada called me. A moment that changed everything.

“Shoot. Good news or Bad news? Don’t give me that pitiful look,” I admonished her as I sat on the examination table, buttoning my suit.

“It’s bad news. A really bad one.” She hesitated to continue.

For goodness’ sake, she knew how I hated one stalling. “Out with whatever it is already. It’s getting on my nerves. I have an important meeting to attend.”

Exhaling, she zoomed in on the image before me. “You might as well reschedule your meeting. The lump has grown worse, As it is, it has occupied eighty percent of your heart. It appears to me that it grew immune to the treatments and fought against the antibiotics instead.”

“I am lost. Can you break it down for me? Because all I hear is how incompetent my personal doctor is. What do you mean by it seems? I don't pay you well for things to ‘seem’ to you. If you don’t know your job, I’ll educate you on it.”

Standing to my feet with a swift force, I felt queasy and that cost me to almost trip on my own feet. Readjusting myself to get a better stand, I finally settled on the vacant chair close to me, trying as much as possible to regain my strength. At that moment, it dawned on me that I was truly sick, and it was no joke.

“Miles,” Grenada called me once more. When she calls me by my name, it is always serious business. “You don’t have much time left.”

“Instead of giving me more insight into the problem, I want a solution. Lots of it. How much would it cost to get this over with?”

“I am afraid money can’t fix this one, We need a heart transplant as soon as possible or you will die.”

Death existed, that I was aware of. However, I never thought that I would be in a situation of it staring in my face so soon. Of all people, it chose to attack me and render my guard defenseless. For what it’s worth, it could have taken some random person who was complaining about life. Or, better still, an ungrateful human trying to commit suicide. Yeah. Those were better options. Not me. I loved life so much because it was great for me. So, to have something tamper with it, I was beyond perplexed.

“Did you hear me, Miles?” Grenada was swirling her chair like she just hadn’t announced my own death to me. Looking all too comfortable and happy. How could she have a stupid glowing face when I was about to die?

“I heard you. Do you have one ready to use? I mean the heart, of course.”

She shook her head a bit and put on her dead-serious face once more. “It doesn’t work that way. We need to put you on the waiting list. Moreover, it isn’t something you can buy off a shelf. It is a heart that needs to be relinquished by a donor.”

“All I hear is a problem without a solution. Tell me a solution.”

Linking her hands on top of the desk, she stared into my eyes without blinking for a second. “We need to run a comprehensive test to find out what donor you need. Wait and pray that you get a match. It’s the only thing we can do.”

That was the last time I heard anything positive from my doctor until two years and three months after. It was always a negative answer. “Sorry, Mr. Pierce, we haven’t heard from the other hospitals yet. Sorry, Mr. Pierce, this one wasn’t a match. We are doing our best, Mr. Pierce. There’s nothing else for us to do. We’ve exhausted all our options, Mr. Pierce. We can only hope for a miracle.”

I heard more apologies and got numerous disappointments throughout those terrible two years and three months, making me give up. I accepted my fate of dying young and quick, started fixing things for after my demise, and plotted revenge on my enemies.

Nevertheless, something different happened. I never believed in the fiction of miracles. I was the kind of guy who preferred scientific explanations to religious or spiritual ones. When the impossible happened, I was moved to retrace my stand on miracles.

Seven months ago, as I angrily swallowed the tons of pills I had in my hand which were now keeping me alive, my phone buzzed on the bedside table. Ignoring the furious buzzing of the phone, I dropped the glass of water I had in my hand and cursed. “Who the fuck is blowing up my phone this early?” Reluctantly, I picked up the phone, preparing myself to shout the living daylight out of whosoever it was.

Immediately I answered the call, I heard a voice and news that made me freeze. “Mr. Pierce, we’ve found a donor!” Grenada’s voice announced with an overwhelming excitement in her tone.

That was really an end to a beginning.