This Isn't A Game

Mariana’s eyes widened in surprise and relief. “Oh my god, that’s great news, Carmi! When is the surgery?”

Carmen’s smile faltered, and she stared down at the table, her heart weighty. “That’s the issue, Mari. The cost. It’s…it’s too much. Even with the money Diego saved up, and the little I’ve earned from this job, it won’t be enough. Not nearly,” she responded.

“How much are we talking?” Mariana asked gently, leaning closer.

Carmen heaved a heavy sigh. “Sixty-five thousand dollars.”

Mariana gasped, her eyes grew large. “Sixty-five thousand? For the surgery?”

Carmen nodded, nibbling her lip to keep calm. “And that’s just for the transplant itself. There’s aftercare, medications…the bills are to pile up. I don’t know what to, Mari. Time is running out, and I feel so… helpless,” she said, her voice laced with sadness.

Mariana reached across the table, squeezing Carmen’s hand. “The cost is quite ridiculous. But hey, there has to be a way to save your brother. Maybe there’s a fundraiser or–”

“I’ve thought of that. But that doesn’t make any sense. We can’t wait for people to start donating to my brother. Diego’s condition will only get worse. I don’t even like the idea to start with,” Carmen interrupted, her voice breaking.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away quickly, unwilling to break down in public. Mariana’s grip on her hand tightened.

“We won’t let anything happen to Diego. We’ll find a way. I’ll help you,” Mariana said, her voice filled with quiet resolve.

Carmen smiled weakly, grateful for her friend’s support. But the burden was still crushing on her. “I just wish I could do more,” she whispered.

“You’re doing everything you can, Carmi. I admire how brave you are. We’ll get through this together,” Mariana assured her.

Carmen nodded, though a part of her still felt lost amidst everything going on in her life.

Mariana’s eyes glinted, and she leaned forward. “And what about Mister Monteiro? Do you think he might come around eventually? Perhaps if you told him about Diego, he could–”

“Nothing. He could do nothing, Mari,” Carmen cuts in quickly, shaking her head. “That man wouldn’t care. To him, I’m just another employee. He doesn’t want to get involved in anyone’s life, let alone mine.”

Mariana raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that? People like that are usually kind though, they just need someone–”

“Let’s not even think about him as an option. I have to figure this out on my own,” Carmen interrupted again. “Speaking of him, I have to return to my duty. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Mariana nodded, flashing her a smile. “Okay. Take care. And don’t worry about Diego, I have my eyes on him for tonight. My shift was in the morning.”

Carmen's cheeks spread into a sincere smile. “Thanks so much for looking out for my brother when I’m not around. It means a lot to me.”

“Come on, it’s nothing,” Mariana waved her off, smiling.

They both stood up and shared a brief hug before Carmen left the café. As she boarded a cab heading to the Monteiro mansion, her mind churned with thoughts of how she could possibly gather the money. The stress and uncertainty crumbled her.

When she alighted from the cab, she took a deep breath before entering, mentally preparing herself for another long evening with Romero. She couldn’t afford to let him see her emotions slipping.

The house was eerily quiet when she entered. Carmen made her way to the east wing where Romero’s room was. As she approached his door, muffled voices drifted down the corridor. Carmen pause, then slowed her pace, straining to listen.

“I’m telling you, Romero, if you don’t act now, those shareholders and your so-called partners will seize control of everything! They’re vultures, waiting for you to stay weak and distracted,” came Pablo’s sharp voice, his frustration evident.

“I’m not distracted, and I’m not weak. I don’t have time for any business drama that is going on in KRM. If you can’t handle it, then let it be,” Romero growled.

“Can you hear yourself? What do you expect an ordinary PA like me to do in your absence? KRM has been in existence for fifteen years, Romero, fifteen good years! Now you want it to go into the hands of those who didn’t even labor for it. You think your father would be proud of you wherever he is?” Pablo argued, his voice linked with bitterness.

“Don’t dare mention my father in this!” Romero snapped.

“Of course, I will. You’re too stubborn to see what’s right in front of you! Those people have already started plotting, this isn’t a game,” Pablo shot back, his chest heaving with rage.

Carmen’s heart pounded. She shouldn’t have been listening to this, but her feet refused to move. The tension between the two men was not to be taken lightly, and the gravity of the conversation hit her like a cold wave. Romero’s company, the Monteiro empire, was at risk. And from the sound of it, Romero’s state had made him vulnerable to betrayal.

Carmen’s phone buzzed in her pocket, loud in the silent corridor. “Shit!” she muttered, fumbling to silence the phone, her fingers trembling, but it was too late. The door to Romero’s room flew open, and she almost dropped her phone in her haste to shove it away.

Pablo’s eyes met hers. “Carmen? What are you doing here?” Pablo’s voice was low, but the accusation in it made her stomach twist.

“I–I just got here. I wasn’t–” Carmen stammered, her heart skipping a beat as she tried to come up with a plausible excuse. “I didn’t hear anything, I swear. I was coming to check if Mister Monteiro needed anything, sir.”

Romero’s eyes narrowed behind Pablo, in his wheelchair. “You were supposed to leave earlier. So why are you standing outside my door, listening?” he demanded, gritting his teeth.

“I wasn’t listening, sir. I…I was just walking by. I didn’t mean to overhear anything,” Carmen lied, her voice unsteady.

The room seemed to shrink under the tautness. Pablo jabbed his hands in his pockets, his gaze flicking between Carmen and Romero. “It seems like she’s telling the truth, Romero. Besides, what does she want to do with the company’s information?”

Romero’s glare deepened, and Carmen shivered. “She had better tell the truth. Because I don’t appreciate eavesdroppers,” he said flatly.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping. I just wanted to check if you were okay,” Carmen insisted, though the words felt weak even to her. She felt her heart hurdling in her ears, and she could feel her palms growing damp with sweat.

“Just let her be, Romero, and let’s continue our conversation,” Pablo spoke up.

“We have nothing else to talk about,” Romero said, looking away. “And as for you over there, next time, don’t hover around my door. There’s nothing here for you,” he added, not sparing Carmen a glance.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Carmen said, bowing slightly.

Pablo sent Carmen away, and turned to face Romero. “We’re not done talking, young man. You need to get up from that wheelchair and take charge of the family business as soon as possible.”

Romero squinted at him, his eyes cold and challenging. “And what if I don’t?”

Pablo stared into the dark mystery of Romero’s eyes, his jaw clenched tightly. “You’re about to find out,” he murmured.

Pablo stomped out of the room, his anger boiling. “That punk!” he grumbled under his breath, marching to the wine cellar. He grabbed a bottle of his favorite vintage and a glass, then walked to the living room, swearing softly as he uncorked the bottle.

He threw himself onto the couch and poured himself a glass. Pablo took a long, deep gulp. His eyes suddenly landed on Carmen sitting quietly on the other side of the room. She was curled up in a chair, scribbling something on her notepad with her phone resting beside her.

Pablo hadn’t noticed her before, probably because his mind had been too clouded with frustration. Right on time, Carmen looked up and saw him, her pen pausing midair. Slowly, she started to rise, clearly intending to leave.

“Don’t go, Carmen. Sit with me. Have a drink,” Pablo said, gesturing at the bottle.

Carmen paused, biting her lip. “I shouldn’t, sir. I’ve got things to finish before the night’s over.”

“Come on, just for a minute. I could use some company. It’s been a long day,” Pablo insisted, slurring slightly as the alcohol already began to work through him.

Carmen stood there awkwardly, clearly torn between refusing and keeping the peace. Finally, she relented with a sigh. “Okay, but I’ll get a glass.”

Carmen disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments later with a small glass in hand. Sitting across from him, Pablo poured her a modest amount and refilled his glass. They raised their glasses in silent toast before Carmen took a careful sip.

Pablo stared at his glass for a moment, swirling the liquid inside. “Fifteen years,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I’ve worked with the Monteiros for fifteen years, Carmen.”

Carmen glanced at him, not sure where he was going with that.

“Fifteen damn years. First, it was Mister Monteiro, God rest his soul. He was tough, but fair. A real kind man. Now… now it’s Romero. That kid doesn’t give a damn. Not about the business, not about the legacy, nothing,” Pablo said, his voice wavering with exasperation as he downed another gulp of wine.

Carmen stayed quiet, not certain of what to say.

“I understand he’s grieving the loss of his family, but it’s a month already. He’s meant to be strong and pick back up,” Pablo mumbled. He glanced at Carmen, his eyes bleary. “You should talk to him, Carmen. You need to make him see what’s at stake. The family business… It’s slipping away. The vultures are really working in the background, waiting to take everything we’ve worked for.”

Carmen shook her head, setting her glass down carefully. “I can’t, Mister Pablo. That’s not my job. I’m just his caregiver, nothing more. He doesn’t listen to me, and even if he did… it’s not my place to tell him how to live his life,” she replied.

“He listens to you. You’re his ear more than anyone else is. You’ve seen him, talked to him. You have to make him understand how deep this is,” Pablo insisted, jabbing a finger in her direction.

Carmen sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I don’t know what gives you the idea that he listens to me, but it’s not that simple. Mister Monteiro is…very complicated. He’s going through a lot emotionally, and I don’t think me telling him how to run his family’s business is going to help in any way.”

Pablo groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “What do I do now, Carmen? I promised his father, even without knowing he’d be dying soon, that I’d look after him. But look at Romero… he’s drowning. I can’t even control him. I can’t get through to him. And if we lose the company, that’s the end. Everything his father built will be gone. I’ll be the one feeling guilty for the rest of my life because I couldn’t do anything to save it,” he laments.

Carmen stared at the defeated man in front of her, feeling a pang of sympathy for him. For just a while she'd been working here, she knew how much Pablo cared about the Monteiro family, how much the business meant to him. But this was beyond her control.

“Look, Mister Pablo. I’ll try to be there for him. But I can’t promise anything. Mister Monteiro has to want to change for himself,” Carmen said softly.

Pablo nodded weakly, his eyes glazing over as the alcohol took deeper hold. “Yeah… yeah, I guess you’re right. Just keep trying to help him recover both physically and emotionally, okay?”

Carmen gave a nod, offering him a small, sad smile. “Yes, I will.” She watched Pablo gulp from the bottle, making her heart sink. She stood up and stepped forward, gently snatching the bottle away from him. “I think you’ve had enough for tonight. Let’s get you to bed,” she said, helping him up.

“You’re such…a nice lady,” Pablo drawled, as Carmen led him out of the living room to his room.

Carmen’s lips parted into a smile at the compliment, but it quickly faded to a frown. “How I wish this was coming from Mister Monteiro,” she murmured, almost in a whisper.

***

The sunset filled the entire sky, Carmen is set to begin her caregiving duty with Romero again. She squats in front of him, ready to clean up his wounds. Carmen dipped a cloth in the bowl of water beside her, squeezing out the excess before gently pressing it against the cut on Romero’s arm.

Romero hissed, his muscles tensing under her touch. “Easy,” Carmen uttered, her voice gentle.

Romero’s sharp inhale did nothing to mask the tension growing between them, the proximity of their faces only adding to it. Carmen worked methodically, moving closer as she cleaned the cut near his neck. Her hand waffled for a moment, her eyes lingering on the strong line of his jaw, his lips just inches away. Carmen’s heart fluttered as she gazed intently at Romero’s lips.

“What are you doing?” Romero’s voice, low and laced with suspicion, snapped Carmen back to what she was doing.

Carmen blinked, shaking off the sudden haze of attraction. “Just cleaning the wound, sir,” she answered, quickly dabbing the cut on his neck.

Carmen tied off the bandage after applying ointment on the wounds, her fingers brushing his skin briefly. Her heart raced, but she ignored it, pulling away as if nothing had happened.

As Carmen worked, Pablo’s words from the night before echoed in her mind. The insistence of his plea was heavy, and she found herself glancing up at Romero, wondering if she should bring it up. Would he listen to her? She wasn’t sure, but she had to give it a shot.