2:22 A.M.

“Are you familiar with Osteomyelitis?” The Bossman was curious.

“Excuse me, what?” William was confused.

“Your father is an orthopedist, and you don’t know what that means?” The Bossman questioned Willy.

“Not me, but my dad. I work as a makeup artist…..” The kidnapper cuts him off.

“I understand you work in a salon as a professional. But I am sure your new friend is mindful of this illness, don’t you, Ivy?” I nodded in agreement.

Osteomyelitis is an inflammation of the bones. If not treated promptly, it will weaken the bone to the point that you have no choice but to cut it, and in the worst-case situation, amputation is the only option.

“Since you have decided not to speak, I will explain. Osteomyelitis is an infection that spreads or contaminates the bone to the extent where it is as good as dead. There is no other way but to get rid of it.” The Bossman elaborated.

“How does that relate to us?” Willy inquired.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why we are here.

“You are Patterson and Anderson’s, children.” The Bossman stated.

Patterson and Anderson. It’s not just a name but a brand. One just can’t go without another in the medical industry. These two are the best Orthopedists that the world has ever seen, and there is no place in the world that they haven’t seen.

Best friends, partners; they are an inspiration to many, respected by all. People kiss the feet they walk on because of the successful surgeries that they have performed. They are remembered in the prayers of those to whom they have brought new meaning to life. They are everything to every patient and their relatives they have treated. Still, they are nothing more than a moneymaking scum bag in their own families.

I respect and love all doctors in the world, but when it comes to my own father, the only feelings I have for him are sadness, frustration, disappointment, and anger. That’s not because he had to spend more time in the hospital to help others, which is one of the noblest things a human can do, nor is it because, instead of promoting my dreams, he was teaching others to dream. But he couldn’t even do the most fundamental of fatherly duties, which is to love and protect his own child.

I always hear tales from my customers’ children about how their father catches the beast at night so they can sleep comfortably. My dad, on the other hand, was a beast in his own right.

This is the irony of my life, and it’s likely that of Williams’ as well.

“So, what does that have to do with us?” William asked again.

“Everything has to do with you two. You are the offspring of Jim Patterson and Nathanial Anderson. Ivanka, Jimothy’s 26-year-old daughter, and you, Nathanial’s 25-year-old homosexual son. Patterson and Anderson; world-famous successful doctors whose hands are considered nothing short of magic, but you two just can't bear them near you, do you?" This caused us to look down.

In one way or another, both of us have been victims of our father. One might ask how I have never met Anderson's son if our fathers are best friends. Their bond is so strong that one name is incomplete without the others.

We may have known each other's fathers, but our fathers made sure that our families were never connected in any way. The explanation is simple to us yet cynical to the rest of the world. My family is in Washington, and William is in Australia, so we live in two separate parts of the world. Despite this, our fathers meet and work with each other more often than they do with us. Whereas our mothers are regarded, they are nothing more than trophy wives. They are mere puppets of their husbands.

“Are you Jim’s daughter?” It’s no surprise you’ve agreed to remain silent. I have had a sneaky suspicion since day one that he’s a Frankenstein monster. As for you, Bossman, are we bait for you? An operation that went bad on somebody you care for, and you want an act of revenge? You’re out of luck, friend. Knowing Jimothy and Nathanial, they won’t spend a dime to save us.” William informed him of the facts.

"Oh, they'd pay any penny I demanded from them if I wanted them. But that's not what I'm looking for. What I want from your father is much more valuable. They are going to put their abilities to good use because I want them to treat my brother. The treatment that he needs and deserves. The treatment which your fathers are not providing." The Bossman began softly, but his rage grew with each word that came out of his mouth.

"You should find some other doctor," William told him. He knew that their father was no saint. They might have skills, but they have done their fair share of unfair deeds and can be as cruel as a demon.

"Don't you think I tried? The surgery is too risky, and your fathers are the only one who can save him. My brother deserves the best, and it was your father's doing that his conditions worsened." The Bossman told him harshly.

Then something happened that none of them nor anyone else expected.

“What exactly did he do? What exactly happened?”

I spoke.