LEWIS GORDON: RETURN OF THE FORGOTTEN HEIR

BETWEEN BILLS AND BLOODLINE

Lewis rushed out of Louis TechHub, his shoes crunching against the pavement. The late afternoon air slapped his face with cold, reminding him how much time had slipped through his fingers. His chest tightened, not just from the sprint, but from the weight pressing on his mind.

His pockets were empty except for the money Mr. Louis had given him, money that belonged to his mother’s treatment, not a single dime to waste on transport. He bit his lip, jaw flexing in frustration.

No options left. He lowered his head and started trekking. The streets of Buffalo were alive, with taxi horns blaring impatiently, buses coughing smoke, and pedestrians dragging shopping bags across zebra crossings.

He had barely gone a few blocks when a bike rider slowed beside him. The man gave him a curious look. Lewis’s pride wanted to stay silent, but desperation overpowered.

“Dude please,” Lewis said honestly, his voice carrying both urgency and sincerity. “Can you give me a ride to Clinton Clinics?”

The man squinted, then nodded. “That’s my route. Hop on.”

Relief washed over Lewis like cool water on parched skin. He quickly climbed onto the backseat, gripping the metal rail tight as the bike sped forward. The wind slapped his face, carrying the sharp scent of gasoline.

Around them, traffic was chaos, taxis honking like angry geese, pedestrians darting across the road, and neon signboards flickering half-dead above stores.

Forty minutes later, the bike screeched to a halt outside Clinton Clinics. Lewis climbed down quickly, brushing the dust from his jeans. He pressed his palms together and bowed slightly.

“Thanks very much! My heartfelt regards and appreciation.”

The young rider gave a calm nod and accelerated away, the roar of his engine fading into the city’s noise. Lewis didn’t waste another breath. He rushed into the hospital, waving quickly at two familiar nurses who had often helped during his mother’s treatment. Their smiles were tired but genuine.

Inside the ward, he pushed the door open and froze for a second. His mother was awake, sitting upright on the hospital bed, her frail fingers tapping at her old Motorola phone. Seeing her conscious and alive made Lewis’s shoulders sag with relief.

She looked up, eyes brightening instantly. “Son, are you back? Hope you’re alright?”

Lewis forced a smile, masking the storm inside him. He walked closer, voice gentle. “I’m absolutely alright, Mom. How are you feeling now? Have you recovered fully?”

His mother chuckled softly, weak but proud. “Hopefully, I’ve recovered! One hour ago, the doctor came in and gave me the drugs he promised. Since then, I’ve felt stronger. Positive changes everywhere.”

Lewis touched her arm, pressing lightly to check her temperature. Cool. Stable. A sigh of relief escaped him.

“Glory be to God! That’s a great testimony,” he said, eyes soft. “What drugs did he give? Any CT scan or lab tests?”

She laughed faintly. “Analgesics, IV fluid injections, and yes, a CT scan. The doctor sent nurses several times asking for you to come back with payment. He hinted we might leave today if bills are settled.”

Lewis smiled again and nodded. “That’s fantastic news. Hopefully, we’re leaving today. How much did the doctor say?”

“He didn’t tell me,” she replied. “He’s waiting for you.”

Lewis stood, straightened his jacket, and walked out into the corridor. A nurse in white scrubs was coming his way. Lewis stopped her politely.

“Please, kindly tell the doctor someone needs his presence.”

The nurse nodded and hurried off. Lewis returned to the ward, sitting by his mother’s bedside, hands clasped. His mind raced, numbers, debts, and hope all clashing.

Moments later, the doctor entered. His polished shoes clicked against the floor tiles, his expression businesslike. Not because of care, but because he smelled money in the air.

“Welcome back, gentleman,” the doctor said, voice firm, almost rehearsed. “I’ve given her the full treatment. She’s fit enough now. We’ve been waiting on you.”

Lewis’s face hardened. “Doctor, how much did we agree on for her treatment?”

The doctor adjusted his glasses, his face as stiff as a banker counting checks. We didn’t agree, I told you the amount is $5,000. I can’t discharge her until full payment is made. That’s hospital policy.”

But his tone betrayed him. It was the voice of a salesman, and both Lewis and his mother knew it. Still, they chose silence. Picking a fight wouldn’t heal wounds.

Lewis swallowed, steady. “I have $120 for now. I’ll complete the balance tomorrow, as I asked you yesterday.”

The doctor frowned. “Unless you'll stay till tomorrow, then complete the payment. That’s the policy.”

Lewis’s brows furrowed, his voice firm but pleading. “My mother has recovered fully. We’ll leave today. I’ll return tomorrow to clear the rest. That’s my word.”

The doctor shook his head, his tone cold. “She’s recovered, yes. But leaving on half payment? Impossible. Policy stands.”

Silence stretched. Lewis clenched his fists, veins twitching. But before he spoke again, his mother raised her hand. Her voice was soft but resolute.

“Son, let me complete it. I’ve saved some money from the prison cleaning jobs before the accident. I have $4,880. Doctor, I’ll pay by transfer; I don’t have the cash.”

She paused, her frail fingers tightening around her purse. “Son… why such reactions. I’ve been saving this for two years. Every shift in that prison, every night scrubbing floors, I hid away a little, quarters, dollars, whatever I could keep.

"It wasn’t easy, but I wanted you to have something when the world finally gave you a chance. But if I don’t use it now, we’ll drown in debt or stay stuck in this hospital forever.”

Lewis’s throat clenched. His mother’s sacrifice hit harder than the doctor’s bill. Two years of pain and sweat, poured into this single moment. He lowered his head, shame and gratitude twisting inside him like a storm.

The doctor, however, showed no emotion. Not pity, not shame. Her two years of scrubbing prison floors, saving quarters and dollars, meant nothing to him — only numbers on a screen.

“Transfers are accepted. In fact, that’s better than cash.”

Lewis handed over the $120, but the doctor gestured at the charge nurse behind him. "Give the cash to Nurse Daniels, she’ll process the transfer and receipt.” Pretending professionalism. The nurse collected the money while Lewis’s mother asked, “Doctor, your account number, please.”

The clerks had clocked out for the day, leaving the charge nurse to handle late payments, so the doctor gestured to her.

"She’ll give you our account details and confirm the transfer." He said briskly and left.

Minutes later, the charge nurse returned, handed over the account details, and received the $4,880 transfer.

Lewis stood, relief flooding him. His mother swung her legs down, already dressed, purse in hand, Motorola phone tucked safely inside. The woman who had been unconscious days ago now looked alive, renewed.

They left the ward together, waving at the nurses. Outside, they stopped a taxi and climbed in. As the city blurred past, Lewis stared out the window, mind heavy. His wallet was drained, his spirit stretched thin.

When they reached home, Lewis tagged the driver to stop. “How much is the fare?”

The driver glanced back. “$35.”

Lewis stiffened, but before he spoke, his mother quietly pulled out the cash and handed it over. The driver nodded and drove off, leaving dust swirling in the snow.

Lewis turned to her, eyes moist. “Mom… you’ve really tried with the bills today. That was supposed to be my responsibility. I’m grateful for your understanding.”

She smiled warmly as the snowflakes fell over them. Behind, his battered Chevrolet Equinox sat half-buried under white powder. Together, they trudged through the snow to the old log cabin. Lewis unlocked the door, and they stepped inside.

The cabin smelled of wood and survival. His mother looked around at the worn furniture and the cracked walls. Pain flickered in her eyes, but she stayed silent. She knew her son was already carrying too much.

They settled on the couch. Lewis switched on the old Sony TV. The screen flickered, then blazed with a Hollywood blockbuster, Fast and Furious.

“Mom, are you satisfied with this movie, or should I change it?”

She chuckled. “Son, I’m okay. Don’t you know I’m a fan of Hollywood?”

Lewis laughed softly, though his mind drifted. Back to her revelations about his bloodline. Back to Gordon Technologies. Back to Bianca's betrayal, exile, and his father he had yet to face.

The movie played, but before peace could settle, a sharp sound shattered it.

KNOCK! KNOCK!! KNOCK!!!

The cabin walls trembled with the urgency of it.