Prologue
Writer's Note:
"In the caverns of opulence and grandeur, where the mighty beams of success sometimes blind our vision, there lies the daunting chasm of expectation, pushing one to crave for more, at the expense of love, ethics, and relationships."
New York
The opulent ballroom of one of New York's most lavish hotels, The Princeton, was abuzz with excitement. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings, casting a golden glow over the room. Large bouquets of red roses adorned every table, their petals glistening and fragrance permeating the air. The unmistakable murmur of hushed conversations filled the room, coupled with the soft rustling of expensive silk dresses and the clinking of champagne glasses. The rich scent of expensive perfumes mixed with the anticipation in the air.
The crowd was a blend of the elite from various fields: authors, publishers, celebrities, and passionate readers. All eyes were fixed on the grand stage, where the Booker Prize award announcement was about to be made. The soft hum of the orchestra added to the aura of suspense.
Feeling nervous but trying to maintain a calm exterior, Carina DeLuca, with her lustrous black hair falling perfectly over her shoulders, scanned the room. Her heart raced as she awaited the announcement. She wore a floor-length emerald gown which accentuated her Italian features and complemented her deep black eyes.
Beside her, Dr. Arizona Robbins, in a breathtaking ice-blue dress that matched her radiant eyes, squeezed Carina's hand reassuringly. Her golden locks framed her face, and her lips curved into a nervous yet hopeful smile. Their fingers interlaced, both women felt the weight of the moment.
"The winner of this year's Booker Prize," the announcer began, his voice echoing throughout the room, "is the incredibly talented Carina DeLuca for her New York Times best-selling novel, 'Tempting Fate'!"
A wave of applause and cheers erupted. The deafening sound was exhilarating. Arizona's cheers were the loudest, her blue eyes shining with tears of pride. She pulled Carina into a tight embrace, whispering words of congratulations into her ear.
Stepping onto the stage, Carina's heels clicked against the polished wood. She approached the microphone, her gaze sweeping the audience.
Taking a deep breath, she began her acceptance speech.
"I am truly humbled," her voice shook slightly, betraying her emotions, "This award isn't just mine. It belongs to every person who believed in my story and in me. To my readers, my publishers, and to my beautiful wife, Arizona, who has been my rock and inspiration. Grazie!"
As the crowd continued their applause, Carina stepped down, the weight of the golden trophy in her hand a testament to her hard work. Arizona wrapped an arm around her waist, both sharing a look of profound love and gratitude.
The skyline of New York stretched majestically outside the vast windows of Carina and Arizona's upscale apartment. Nestled in one of the city's towering skyscrapers, the residence boasted a panoramic view of the city, the lights shimmering and casting a soft glow throughout the living area. The décor was a beautiful blend of modern chic and Italian elegance, bearing host to the couple's tastes and Carina's heritage.
Carina clutched the golden trophy close, the reality of her victory slowly sinking in. She paced the vast living room, the marble floor cool beneath her bare feet. Her mind was a flurry of emotions — triumph, gratitude, excitement, and a hint of disbelief.
Arizona watched her wife, an affectionate smile playing on her lips. The soft glow from the overhead chandelier added a touch of warmth to her golden hair. "You look like you're about to burst with happiness," she commented playfully.
Carina laughed, her deep brown eyes sparkling. "I still can't believe it, Arizona. This... this is a dream!"
Arizona stood and approached Carina, her blue eyes soft with pride. "It's real, Carina. And you've earned every bit of this joy."
Emotions threatened to spill from Carina's eyes, and she was about to respond when Arizona added, "Speaking of joy, I have a surprise for you." With a mysterious twinkle in her eyes, she held out her hand.
Intrigued, Carina took the offered hand, allowing herself to be led towards their bedroom.
The door opened to reveal a sight that left Carina speechless. The room was bathed in the soft, flickering glow of countless candles, their flames dancing and creating a mesmerising play of light and shadow. The scent of lavender and vanilla wafted in the air, adding a layer of sensory pleasure. Delicate wind chimes hung from the ceiling, producing soft melodic sounds every time a gentle breeze flowed in from the open window.
And at the centre of it all, the large bed was adorned with an exquisite platter of gourmet cheese, fresh fruits, and wine glasses filled with deep, ruby-red liquid. The bedspread shimmered under the candlelight, and scattered rose petals added a touch of romantic extravagance.
Carina's eyes widened, and she whispered in awe, "Arizona... This is... incredible….how were you so sure about my win?."
Arizona's cheeks reddened, her eyes filled with a mix of pride and love. "Of course it was gonna be you Carina…..and I wanted to celebrate this milestone in a way that's as unique and wonderful as you are."
Carina turned, her eyes misting with emotion. "How did I get so lucky?"
Arizona stepped closer, her fingers brushing Carina's cheek. "We found each other in a world full of chaos. That's our luck."
They shared a deep, passionate kiss, putting all their emotions in it. Carina's fingers brushed the back of Arizona's neck, and they deepened the kiss, their feelings raw and unfiltered.
Finally breaking apart, Carina whispered, "Thank you for this. It's perfect Bella."
Arizona smiled, her eyes mischievous. "The night's just beginning….. Let's celebrate."
And with that promise hanging in the air, they stepped into the beautifully crafted ambiance, ready to commemorate a victory and their unwavering love for each other. The night held promises of deep conversations, laughter, and the kind of intimacy that only lovers shared.
Outside the window, the city lights continued to shine, mirroring the brilliance of the moment inside.
Botswana, South Africa
The sun hung low in the Botswana sky, casting an orange and pink hue over the vast expanse of the wetlands. The seasonal flood had transformed the usually arid terrain into an expansive network of waterways and lagoons. The distant chirping of African finches filled the air, complemented by the distant rumble of thunder that promised more rain. The overpowering scent of damp earth and blooming water lilies was pervasive.
In the midst of this scenic panorama, a medical boat navigated through the labyrinth of water channels, leaving a gentle ripple in its wake. The word "PEACE CORPS" was printed in bold on its side, signifying its noble mission in these remote regions.
At the helm of the boat stood a figure whose appearance was as striking as the landscape around her. Dr. Callie Torres, with her tall, statuesque physique, was a sight to behold. Her skin, a rich shade of olive, glistened with a light sheen of sweat from the African heat, making her seem as if she were carved from bronze. Her raven-black hair, usually cascading in lustrous waves, was now pulled back into a tight ponytail, revealing the sharp contours of her face.
Her deep-set, amber eyes, dark as the African night, exuded determination and passion. They were eyes that had witnessed the harsh realities of life in Botswana but were unwavering in their commitment. Her lips, full and inviting, were set in a line of concentration as she navigated the waters. The muscles in her toned arms flexed with every movement, hinting at the underlying strength that went beyond just the physical.
Though the simplicity of her khaki Peace Corps uniform did little to accentuate her curvaceous form, there was an undeniable allure about Callie that went beyond the physical. It was her aura, a blend of fierce independence and raw sensuality, that made heads turn.
As the boat cruised through the channels, Callie's mind wandered. She had always led a life of luxury, being an heiress to a vast fortune. Yet, her heart yearned for something more, something meaningful. Completing med school was a nod to her father's wishes, but her decision to join the Peace Corps was solely for herself.
Johns Hopkins in New York had extended a prestigious offer to her after graduation, an opportunity many would jump at. But her heart pulled her to the plains of Africa, to the tribes and communities that desperately needed her skills.
She had been here for months, working tirelessly with the peace corps to set up clinics and offer medical relief to the tribes and communities affected by the floods. While many would baulk at the idea of trading a plush life in New York for the challenges of Botswana, Callie had made this choice consciously.
Her decision had not been easy, especially given her background. This new life in Botswana was the antithesis of her earlier existence. Here, the days were long, the challenges numerous, and the comforts few. Yet, for Callie, it was fulfilling in a way her earlier life never was.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the boat's co-pilot, a local named Tumo. "Doctor Torres, we're approaching the next village," he called out.
She nodded, bracing herself for the scene that would unfold. Each village had its own set of challenges and heartbreaks.
As they approached the village, children, their faces lined with worry far beyond their years, rushed to the banks. They looked up at Callie with a mix of hope and desperation. Their parents, too weak or sick to greet the boat, waited in makeshift tents, hoping for relief.
Callie stepped off the boat, her medical bag in hand. She was greeted with nods and murmurs of gratitude, their faces reflecting the weight of their ordeal. She took a deep breath, reminding herself of the promise she'd made – to serve and to heal.
Hours turned into days as Callie immersed herself in her work. Each patient had a story, each treatment was a fight against time and resources, and every recovery was a small victory. Her hands, though delicate in appearance, worked with a surgeon's precision and a healer's touch.
One evening, after an especially gruelling day, Callie sat by the water's edge. The tranquillity of the place was in sharp contrast to the chaos of her day. She remembered the recent call of offer from Richard Webber at Seattle Grace Mercy West. It was her safety net, an option she could fall back on. But as she looked at her reflection in the calm waters, she realised that she had found her purpose here, amidst the floods and the suffering.
SGMH can wait.
She had once become a doctor for her father, but here, in the heartlands of Botswana, she was becoming a doctor for herself. The path she had chosen was difficult, but it was also where she found her true calling.
New York
The conference room was bathed in a soft white light, rows of chairs meticulously arranged facing a dais adorned with microphones and the Booker Prize emblem. Plush carpeting covered the floor, and there was an air of excitement and anticipation. Cameras from various media houses were set up, their red recording lights blinking.
Carina DeLuca, the woman of the hour, stepped onto the dais, her black locks perfectly styled, her ruby-red gown flowing gracefully with each step. The applause was thunderous. Flashbulbs went off as photographers tried to capture every moment.
The press conference began with Carina expressing her gratitude for the award. She spoke eloquently, and the room was filled with reporters hanging onto her every word.
The floor was then opened to questions. Hands shot up, and a cacophony of voices echoed. One reporter asked, "Carina, with your recent success, we are sure many publishers are vying to sign you for your next book. Can you share with whom you will work next?"
With a gracious smile, Carina replied, "I've been fortunate to receive interest from various publishers. Right now, I'm focusing on the story I want to tell next rather than the logistics."
More generic questions followed, some about her writing process, others about her journey so far. But then, a question came that shifted the atmosphere in the room.
"Why do most of your books seem to mirror reality so closely?" a reporter from a leading daily asked, his gaze sharp.
Before she could answer, another chimed in, "Do you ever fear the lines between reality and fiction getting blurred in your works?"
Carina's confident demeanour faltered slightly. She took a deep breath, her fingers gripping the sides of the podium. "While it's true that I draw inspiration from real-life events, like most authors do, my stories are purely fictional. I believe in creating characters and narratives that resonate with readers, and sometimes that requires a touch of reality."
The conference wrapped up soon after, with Carina still feeling the weight of those probing questions. As she stepped down, she was greeted by Lexie Grey, Arizona's younger sister, and Carina's trusted lawyer. Lexie's deep brown hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, her tailored suit showcasing her professional style.
The duo made their way outside the hotel, where a lavish black sedan awaited. As they settled into the plush leather seats, Carina's restraint broke.
"Lexie, why the hell were such questions allowed? You should've screened them!" Carina's voice was laced with frustration.
Lexie glanced at Carina, her dark eyes calm. "I'm sorry, Carina. It was an oversight. But hey! you handled it well."
Carina's fingers drummed impatiently on the car seat. "I don't want those answers published. People concoct enough stories without me giving them fodder."
Lexie's brows knitted in concern. "Why are you so worried, Carina? You write fiction, there's nothing to fear."
Carina sighed deeply, her gaze fixed on the city lights zooming past. "It's just... there are parts of my life, aspects of our lives, that I want to remain private. And I fear that the more I expose through my books, even if they're fictionalized, the more vulnerable we become."
Lexie reached out, placing a comforting hand on Carina's. "We'll handle it, like we always do. You're safe."
Carina gave a slight nod, her anxiety evident.
The journey of an author was not always smooth, and the line between reality and fiction, though clear in her mind, was often blurred for the world.