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His Half Brother Wants Me Novel Cover

His Half Brother Wants Me

For nine years, Yolanda Monroe has loved Reed Statham—first as her high school senior, then her college mentor, and now her boss. But when Reed announces his engagement to another woman, Yolanda's world shatters. She quits her job, determined to move on, until her mother is diagnosed with cancer and the medical bills become impossible. Desperate, Yolanda turns to a loan agency owned by Waylon Hemsworth, Reed's menacing, cold half-brother. He offers her the money, but on one condition: she must marry him until the debt is repaid. She refuses—until her mother's condition worsens, forcing her to accept. What Yolanda doesn't know is that their marriage is just one part of Waylon's devious plan to possess her completely.
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Chapter 2

Yolanda's POV

“Here, sir,” My right hand shook as I handed the cab driver my fare.

At that moment, the blood in my veins had been replaced by fear, as I could do nothing but fear the worst.

How could something like this happen to my mother?

“You gave me more,” He said, giving me a thirty dollar bill, concern prominent in his gaze, “I hope everything turns out fine. You seemed spaced out during the entire ride.”

“My,” I began to say before tears clogged my throat, “T-Thank you.”

Stepping down from the cab, I bounded past the glass doors of the hospital, my entire body awash with anxiety.

It was only then I realized I didn't even tell anyone before leaving work, as I'd been consumed by my thoughts.

But then again, was it even necessary?

Especially since my resignation letter was currently on my desk.

Pushing down every Reed related thoughts, I raked my fingers through my hair frantically, as my mind strayed to my poor mum.

She was the only family I had, and the only parent I had ever known my entire life.

According to her, her sperm donor, because I could never bring myself to call him my father, had abandoned us, a month before I was born.

My mum was the strongest woman I knew, especially since I had never once seen her cry over him.

She had only told me the story when I was eleven, as I wouldn't stop bugging her about why I was the only person in my entire class without a dad.

And ever since, I knew better than to bring up the matter again.

Now, I certainly knew that my mum and I were unlucky with love.

“Yolanda?” A middle-aged woman clad in teal scrubs called me as I walked to the nurses' station, and my panic heightened.

Had my mother's condition worsened?

“Y-Yes, I'm her,” I nodded fervently, “Where is my mum?”

“She is in the recovery room,” The woman replied, offering me a handshake, “I'm Miss Alice Peters, your mum's colleague and friend.”

“Oh,” I replied, as we shook hands, “Mum told me about you. It's sad we are meeting this way. What happened to her?”

“I have no idea myself,” She replied, “I found Giselle laying lifelessly on the floor of the storage room.”

Just how much was the universe going to torture my mum?

My mum was a cleaner at the hospital.

At times, I couldn't help but wonder if her sperm donor suddenly up and leaving us, and subsequently, my birth, had derailed my mother from pursuing her life's goal.

Sure, being a cleaner was a noble job, but I knew my mother must have definitely had other passions.

In the past when I had asked if she had a dream career, she had somehow managed to change the subject, instead of answering the question.

A year had barely even passed since my mother started working here, and I hadn't even had the chance to even meet the kind Miss Alice she was always raving on about in person, until now.

“Thanks for finding her,” I said, and she waved it off.

Giving my hand a firm yet reassuring squeeze, Miss Alice said, “The doctor wants to see you.”

My heart plunged as goosebumps enveloped my entire being, “It's serious, isn't it? Is she in coma? Is she bleeding from her brain?”

“I honestly don't know anything because she has refused to speak to anyone who isn't Giselle's family,” Miss Alice replied, and I nodded, trying my best not to have a breakdown.

My mum had no one but me, and vice versa, thus, I had to be strong for her.

“Aren't you going in with me?” I asked, when Miss Alice stopped at the door.

“No, she specifically asked to see her family,” The older woman divulged, and I felt chills race down my spine.

“I see,” I muttered, absentmindedly fiddling with my fingers.

Sensing my distress, Miss Alice took my hands in hers, “But don't worry, I will be right there at the nurses’station, okay? I will wait for you.”

“Okay, Miss Miss Alice,” I croaked, swallowing the lump of tears clogging my throat.

“Just knock and go in. I wish you the best.” She replied, before giving me a gentle shoulder pat.

Thereafter, she left.

Inhaling sharply, I followed Miss Alice's advice and gave the door a light knock before turning the doorknob open.

Walking into the office filled me with a dreadful sense of apprehension, that sent chills racing down my spine.

I did my best to remain calm as I came face to face with the doctor; a surprisingly young woman.

“Good day, doctor…,” I paused to read the nametag on her coat, “Jones.”

“Hello, Miss Monroe,” She said then motioned to the chair in front of her desk, “Please sit down.”

“Thank you,” I replied, inwardly hoping that I appeared as calm as I thought as I was, at that moment.

“Did you know that your mum has cancer?” She asked, and my eyes widened in horror.

Fervently, I shook my head in negation, “N-No, I didn't. My mum didn't say anything about that to me. How long has she had it? What type of cancer does she have? Wi-”

“Please calm down and take a deep breath, Miss ,” The doctor said, her eyes brimming with concern, “I'm your mum's oncologist, so I'll explain everything to you, okay?”

“O-Okay,” I nodded, my voice a shaky rasp, as I did as she said.

After a moment, my chest felt less tight, however, panic still thrummed through my veins.

“Good,” She replied, “Back to your questions. Your mum has liver cancer, which according to the test that was conducted earlier, has now unfortunately metastasized to her ovaries, lungs, and uterus. She has known about this cancer for the past three months.”

“Oh, god,” I whispered, as my hands flew over my mouth in shock.

Three months was such a long time for her to have been carrying that news, without sharing it with me.

Why would she even think keeping it to herself was the best solution?

“S-So, what's next now?” I asked.

“Miss Giselle was supposed to start chemotherapy as soon as the biopsy revealed a cancerous tumor on her liver three months ago, but due to lack of funds, she couldn't,” The doctor divulged, and my heart sank, “Given how things have escalated, she needs to undergo a surgery to remove that tumor immediately. After that, chemotherapy will follow.”

“How much will everything cost?” I was near tears as I asked.

“This is a breakdown of the fees, miss,” Doctor Jones replied, before sliding a piece of paperwork toward me.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I beheld the magnanimous amount.

Five million, three hundred and seventy thousand dollars with nine cents.

This had to be a nightmare.

Even if I worked for fifty years, I wouldn't be able to save a quarter of that amount.

How and where was I supposed to even get a huge amount of money like that from?

At that moment, I felt a sudden need to get out of her office, as I felt suffocated.

I wanted to go for a walk to lessen the torrent of thoughts ravaging my mind at that moment.

Standing up, I said, “I-I will be right back.”

Before the doctor could respond, I exited her office in a rush.

“We will talk later please,” I told Miss Alice as she opened her mouth to speak.

“Alright.” She nodded, seemingly understanding my plight.

I could feel my heartbeat on the tip of my tongue as I dragged myself out of the hospital, completely worn down by the new development.

As I walked down a quiet alleyway, a large colorful poster caught my attention, pulling me out of my discomfiting mind bubble.

“Need a loan? Look no further. Just ring us at +1 (212) 555-0199. At Stanford loaning services, we offer financial help, without asking you for a collateral or a guarantor.”

There was absolutely no way that this was real.

Who lent someone money without asking for anything?

Nowadays, human trafficking rings would masquerade as shady businesses like this one, and people who were desperate and unfortunate enough, would end up falling into their trap.

Without sparing the poster another glance, I continued walking, the phone number unfortunately branded into my mind.

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