"My husband cannot come to the phone," she said, sitting in a desk, with a pen in hand. "Yes surely," and she laid back, phone to her ear, twirling the pen around and about her fingers. "The company is not up to sale anymore but if you're interested in stock, or shares, we might sell." Pause. "Why?" She shrugged. "The Adinov name isn't coming down. We realized it was ours, and we're not putting up another name on a company that is, by blood and sweat, Adinov." She chuckled. "Seriously? Just because I am not Ivaan doesn't mean you're going to buy a chunk of it with a fucking penny. The world is changing Mr. Hassan, just because I am a woman doesn't mean I'll let fraud slip."
Then she got the question. Final, desperate, hurried. "How much do you ask?"
She had her answer. "A hundred million."
The man was silent for a moment. "Ninety five."
"Sold." She smiled. "Lovely talk Mr. Hassan. We'll have a lovely partnership I am sure. Papers will be managed by our lawyers and I'll inform my husband as soon as he's home. Kisses my dear," she blew a kiss and hung up.
The share was worth thirty million. She stared down at the paper and wrote ninety five next to it, gaining sixty five million in one call. Yes, she might've been the fraud, but with this gain, she could reinvest into the company, bring back more workers, more production, faster, higher quantity, and therefore, what he bought for ninety five million, will once again be worth half a billion.
She grabbed her forearm crutches and got up and away from the desk. Gently, she was escorted by a guard beside her, and she returned to his bedroom.
He hadn't woken up yet. He woke up once, saw her, but something kept him from actually waking and he was back to sleeping. So Soo-young kept track of his meds, reduced them, and predicted he'd wake up any moment now.
"Bring me his breakfast," she told one of the ladies who's been supporting the... cause.
She was so used to saying my husband that she could only smile as she looked at him. She couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop imagining, couldn't stop being happy that God had blessed them with her life, and her child's, which as fragile as it was, remained in her womb.
She had prayed it'd be a boy. But now, after living what has happened, from it being a risk-pregnancy from the start, she knew only a girl could survive. Only girls survive what men cannot.
She leaned down and kissed him, a peck on his lips, which had now returned in color.
"Here ma'am," and the nightstand's lamp was moved aside and used for a breakfast table. She made sure it was his favorite: blueberry pancakes, and strawberry and banana smoothie.
His leg moved first, and she sighed in excitement. The hand she was holding now was holding hers, and he opened his eyes slowly, and brought her hand up to her lips.
YOU ARE READING
Rewriting the Game
ChickLitTattoos, body chains, and dark lipstick. Ina and Amé are two women who rewrite the game. Follow them into their never ending world. Written by Ina Seele and Amé Fengári