The Mafia's Plaything: His To Ruin

Brinda's POV

“…That’s it. There’s nothing more I can do.” Dr. McMasters’ voice was calm—too calm—like the words didn’t just tear through the last thread of my sanity.

My vision blurred, not from tears—those had long dried up—but from the sheer weight of his finality.

It felt like he had just sealed my fate.

Have you ever been in a situation where it feels like everything you’ve ever known—everything you’ve ever loved—is slipping away right before your eyes?

Have you ever had a near-death experience so real, so raw, that you looked up and asked the heavens why you were still here?

Have you ever searched for answers or for a way out of the storm in your soul—only to find silence?

That… is life.

That… is fate.

Yours can never be mine, and mine can never be yours—not even if we share the same blood. Not even if we were born on the same day.

No matter how hard we try, fate always takes its course—leading us either to destruction or to salvation.

The truth can be buried in the darkest grave. Flesh can burn in the cruelest of flames. But reality… reality always rises. And when it does, it comes to collect.

“You need to start looking for the money, Brinda. There's nothing much the hospital can do.” He said, his voice dropping drastically. I watched closely enough to see that he couldn't stop the tears that he was trying so hard to control.

“Please… I have no one. Who will I turn to?” I asked him, my voice gentle.

“I can't help you. You've just worked with us for a month. Your salary can't cover it nor can the hospital cover your expenses. You have to find a way to save your mother yourself.”

The room fell dead as he threw his words at me before he staggered into his personal bathroom while I gripped the hem of my scrub.

My knees buckled as the door shut behind him. I stood there, caught in a silence so thick it choked me. My thoughts spiraled—how do you process the kind of news that rips your soul from your body?

I pressed my back against the cold wall, willing myself to breathe. My mother... The one person I had left in this world. And now…

She has just been diagnosed with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease. A condition so cruel, it crushes your lungs while you’re still alive. And she needs surgery. Seventy-two hours. That’s all I’ve been given.

A month ago, I started working in Greenfield hospital after my graduation from college. I was hoping to receive my salary then go on some shopping spree with my mother but that was a dream that would never come true.

Earlier today, I ended my shift and bought some food on my way home. Stepping into the living room, I met my mother coughing and holding on tight to her chest at the same time.

I had to rush her to