Chapter 10 What the Doctor Found
656 Words
Outside, the thunder cracked again. A flash of white lit up Vivienne's face through the window, making it look worse.
When the lightning was gone, the room went dark again, lit only by the hallway.
Edward hit the light switch, but the bedroom bulb was dead.
He didn't think. He shoved the bodyguard aside.
He wanted to reach out and touch Vivienne, but Emma was still in his arms.
These past few days of unexplained unease — the answer was here.
Edward's eyes bled red, staring at the mother and daughter.
This wasn't what he wanted.
Vivienne was lying to him.
She had to be.
He set Emma down on the bed and looked at Dr. Pierce.
"Check them. They're faking. All of this is fake." His fists were tight, his voice low.
The people behind him, seeing him like this, went still.
They looked at each other, then kept quiet, not daring to speak. The smell of rot was spreading. Everything was clear, even without words.
Actually, Dr. Pierce didn't need to examine them to make the call.
But he steeled himself, examined both bodies in the dark.
After a moment, he said to Edward, "Mrs. Hale — time of death, approximately five days ago. The child — within the past few days."
Edward felt his head buzzing. He roared, "Get out. All of you, get out!"
Hearing that, everyone backed out fast, not looking back, afraid of being caught in the blast.
In an instant, the room was still.
Edward stood there for a long time before he walked to the bed.
Looking at the two of them, not breathing, he felt like his own breath was being choked off.
Edward admitted it — to himself — he hadn't loved this daughter much. But she was still his kid. He couldn't say he felt nothing.
As for Vivienne — he loved her. Otherwise he wouldn't have married her.
He just couldn't understand why she wouldn't understand him. He was just marrying someone else.
If she'd just stayed quiet, he'd have kept her comfortable. He'd have kept loving her.
He thought of what Emma had told him — Mommy was sick. And what Vivienne had said — that she'd be taken away.
All those words he'd thought were crazy, lies.
Now they were b****y reality, telling him — they'd never lied to him. Not once.
Edward felt his mind being torn into pieces.
One part told him to admit it — he'd killed them.
Another part blamed Vivienne — why hadn't she said more, pushed harder.
And another part wanted to lie to himself — this isn't real, it's all fake.
The smell of them hit his nose, jolting him back.
He looked at Emma. The filth on her had dried, caked to her thighs.
Edward felt a sudden, sharp pang of guilt.
Maybe unable to face it, he picked Emma up. "Daddy's going to give you a bath. Get you all clean, and then we'll come back and sit with Mommy."
He paused, surprised at his own words. Then he went on as if nothing had happened.
He didn't dare look at Vivienne on the bed again. He carried Emma out.
The dark and his own churning mind made him almost fall a few times.
He got Emma to the bathroom, and then he just stood there, not knowing what to do.
He'd never given Emma a bath. He didn't know where to start.
A heavy discouragement rose in him, and he slipped back into his own thoughts.
The water in the tub kept running.
It overflowed, soaked his Tom Ford shoes, before he snapped to and turned it off.
He set Emma in the water. The filth and the sharp smell spread through the bathroom.
Edward didn't last long. He rushed through the rinse.
He frowned, unconsciously. But seeing Emma, all skin and bones — his heart jumped, hard, out of his control.
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