RENT A HEART

EVE's POV

Long before the city had even properly woken, the driver was already whisking us away to the Presidential Estate, where Chris's father resided.

The drive took a solid hour, but we eventually arrived at the sprawling property. The surroundings were breathtaking. Towering trees lined the sides of the road, their long, intertwining branches forming a natural canopy overhead. Delicate blossoms cascaded from the branches, painting the landscape with vibrant hues and creating a mystical, almost enchanted atmosphere.

I lowered the car window, inhaling deeply as the sweet, heady fragrance of the flowers wafted into the car.

"What a beautiful environment," I murmured, lost in the moment. But then I felt Chris gently squeeze my hand, drawing me back.

"I can get a house here if you want," he whispered in my ear, his breath warm against my skin.

"I would love to, but it's a bit far from the city and the office," I said, practicality overriding my romantic inclinations.

"I can arrange for a chopper to take you to the office every day, beating the traffic with ease, if you like," he countered, winking playfully. I leaned in, about to reward his thoughtfulness with a kiss, when my father made a loud, theatrical sound with his mouth, as if clearing his throat.

I looked up, a playful roll of my eyes, and saw that he was watching us through the rearview mirror. A mischievous glint danced in his eyes.

"Really, Dad?" I said, feigning exasperation.

"Can't you two hold off until I'm no longer here?" My father asked, making a ridiculous face at me.

"Of course, Sir," Chris replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

A few minutes later, the gates of the estate swung open, and we drove onto the grounds, finally arriving at Chris's father's mansion.

It was as vast as our own estate, if not larger. The architecture was strikingly modern, yet exuded a timeless elegance. The entire structure seemed to radiate power and sophistication.

"What a gorgeous building," I murmured, awestruck, as we made our way into the compound.

Suddenly, a middle-aged man came hurrying towards us, his face beaming with genuine warmth.

"Young Master, welcome!" the man greeted, his voice full of affection.

"Good morning, Alonso," Chris said, embracing the man warmly. It was clear they shared a close bond.

"Eve, Mr. Adolf, meet Alonso, my friend. Alonso, meet my fiancée and my father-in-law," he said, and we exchanged pleasantries.

"Is my father home?" Chris asked as we approached the imposing mansion, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension evident in his eyes.

I was surprised that Chris hadn't mentioned our visit to his father, but I trusted he had his reasons.

"Yes, sir. He's currently in his study… this way, please," Alonso said, leading us deeper into the house.

The interior of the castle-like mansion was even more breathtaking than the exterior. Each.

We arrived at his study. The butler bowed slightly before leaving us alone.

Chris knocked softly on the door before we entered.

"Chris… Eve! What a pleasant surprise. No one told me you two would be coming," Chris's father said, his face lighting up with genuine excitement.

He came around the large mahogany desk to greet us, giving me a light hug and then patting his son affectionately on the shoulder. But the moment his gaze fell upon my father, a deep frown creased his brow, telling me that he recognized him instantly. I stepped back slightly, drawing Chris with me, as we waited with bated breath for the impending confrontation between the two men.

"What are you doing here, Adolf?" Mr. Lionel asked my father, his voice laced with a mixture of anger and barely suppressed emotion. From the rigid set of his jaw and the tremor in his voice, it was clear he was struggling to maintain control.

"Long time no see, my friend," my father said, offering a sad, almost apologetic smile.

"You ceased to be my friend the moment you abandoned me decades ago, leaving me to rot in prison," Mr. Lionel spat, his voice dripping with bitterness. The force of his words triggered a small coughing fit, his hand flying to his chest.

"Father, are you okay?" Chris asked, concern etched on his face. He moved to step towards his father, but Mr. Lionel held up a hand, stopping him.

"I am sorry, Lionel. You have every right to hate me, to be angry at me, to loathe me. But you have to listen to me," my father was saying when Mr. Lionel barked a sharp, cutting laugh.

"I don't have to listen to you, Adolf..." The harshness of his words belied the deep undercurrent of pain that resonated within him, breaking my heart.

"You were supposed to be my friend, Adolf. My best friend… yet you sided with everyone else and helped throw me into prison for a crime I didn't commit," he went on, his voice rising with each word, the decades of hurt and betrayal pouring forth. My father stood before him, his head bowed, his face etched with remorse. He seemed utterly incapable of refuting the accusations, his silence an admission of his past failures.

"I am sorry, Lionel. Truly, I am... I should have trusted you. I didn't know what I was thinking at the time," my father finally said, his voice soft, barely more than a whisper, filled with regret.

"You knew exactly what you were thinking. Don't give me that flimsy excuse, Adolf," he fired back, his voice laced with contempt.

"You stood on the witness stand and told the court that, yes, you believed I was capable of hurting your brother because of some childish fight we'd had weeks before… Your words put the nail in my coffin, Adolf! So, are you back now because I've finally been vindicated after all these years?" Chris's father demanded, his voice cracking with suppressed emotion.

The scene was heartbreaking, to say the least. I could feel, and almost hear, the decades of hurt and betrayal emanating from Mr. Lionel as he recounted the past. He spoke of how my father, his supposed best friend, had thrown him to the wolves. I could understand his anger; it was entirely justified. I couldn't imagine my best friend believing everyone else but me. It was truly devastating.

"No, Lionel. I'm here because I want to help," my father said, his voice low and sincere.

Mr. Lionel's gaze flicked between my father and us, confusion clouding his features. "Why would I need your help?" he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

I watched as my father took a deep, fortifying breath before letting the cat out of the bag. "I can perform your heart surgery. I can help save your life, Lionel."

"What are you talking about?" Mr. Lionel asked, his voice shaking slightly. He turned to Chris and me, seeking clarification.

"Give it up, Father. I already know that you're sick and only have a month to live," Chris said, stepping towards his father. Mr. Lionel's eyes widened in disbelief, his face paling visibly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Chris asked softly, his voice laced with hurt as he stood before his father.

His father remained speechless, his eyes filled with a profound sadness as he gazed at his son. Then, with a sigh, he rose and slowly made his way to a nearby armchair, sinking heavily into the cushions. We all took that as our cue to make ourselves comfortable. I went over and sat beside my father, offering him a reassuring smile.

"It's alright, Dad," I said, squeezing his hand gently.

"Why, Father? Why didn't you tell me?" Chris pressed, his voice laced with a pleading note.

"But I did, Christopher," his father replied, his gaze searching Chris's face for understanding, while Chris looked utterly lost and confused.

"The three times I went under the knife, I always sent you an email before the due date. It was a direct message, subtle, but you could tell from the underlying tone what I was saying. I guess you just didn't see it, Chris. But that's all in the past now," Mr. Lionel said, his voice tinged with regret.

I saw Chris's shoulders slump further with each word his father spoke, the weight of years of missed connections and unspoken feelings pressing down on him.

"I'm not doing any surgery, if that's why you came, Adolf," Mr. Lionel stated matter-of-factly, locking eyes with my father.

"Why, Father? Do you want me to lose another parent too?" Chris asked, his voice laced with desperation. He stood abruptly, running a weary hand over his face, the raw frustration and sadness radiating from him like a palpable force.

"Because there's no guarantee that I'll make it through the damn surgery, Christopher!" Mr. Lionel retorted, standing to face his son, his voice tight with emotion.

"The surgery is risky, dangerous, granted. But that's not what scares me. What scares me is not being there with you on your big day, at the altar. That's the most important thing to me right now, everything else is secondary," he said simply, his gaze fixed on Chris with an intensity that cut through the air.

My heart clenched painfully within my chest. I couldn't believe that that was the reason he was so adamantly opposed to the surgery. Beneath his gruff exterior, he was a deeply loving and thoughtful father after all.

I remembered Chris telling me how he'd spent the better part of his life believing his father had never truly wanted or liked him. Now, just when everything seemed to be falling into place, when they were finally forging a real connection, death was knocking on their door.

I couldn't stop the tears from trickling down my cheeks, moved beyond words by the poignant father-son scene unfolding before me.

"But you can do both, Father! That's why we moved the wedding… we moved it until after your surgery," Chris said, his gaze pleading as he turned to me for confirmation. I nodded silently, tears streaming down my face.

"Mr. Mikleson can save you, Father. He can extend your lifeline. And after that, you can attend the wedding, healthy and strong, as we wait for a matching heart… Please, Father," Chris begged, sinking to his knees once more.

"What are you doing, Christopher? Stand up this instant!" his father commanded, his voice laced with both exasperation and concern. He reached down, trying to haul Chris to his feet, but Chris refused to budge, his resolve unwavering.

"I need you, Father. Please… I can't lose another parent again," he pleaded, his voice cracking with raw emotion.