Chapter 12
1076 Words
“She's awake, Mrs., But we are afraid she might not be herself like she used to be.”
The Doctor reported, tilting forward from her seat, leaning her elbows on the table, fixed both fingers to provide a resting spot for her jaw, in a bid to pose how harmless the topic of concern is.
“What do you mean, Doc? Tell me you're not professional enough with your job. Make me understand..?” Mrs Laurent demanded, letting out a grin of disgust. The Doctor let a not-too-excited smile court her lips as she proceeded with the briefing.
“She is experiencing a medical condition that appeals to the medical team as memory loss. We are still working to pick out what exactly must have triggered that. From our reports here,”
Stretches a blue cover file towards Mrs. Laurent.
“There's something suspicious happening in the hypothalamus of her brain. But we can't be too sure since we have little or no information about our patients.
Okay, Mrs, I may not be appealing to you in appearance, or you may have had ugly experiences in the past that may have tampered with your trust for letting off information to strangers.
But you've got this, I am a professional medical expert who's trained to maintain confidentiality of patients. Your help is paramount if you deeply wish for a quick recovery for your daughter.” she said, sending her palm patting Mrs Laurent's backhand gently, passing signals that spell you can confide in me.
We all feel like pouring our troubles into a sac, tying it to a heavy stone, and lowering it to the bottom of an ocean.
At that point, Mrs Carter couldn't hold back the pain she had been hurdling in her heart. She felt she had to let it off her chest and cast it into the ocean.
The stranger and doctor have to be the perfect ocean. Vulnerability was never her thing. She held it back.
“I have a lot to say, Doctor, but unfortunately, I am swiftly running late for an important engagement. I will be on my way.” She closed the door behind her without looking into the Doctor's eyes for validation.
****
“Naomi is fine. But her mother is turning her back on us. But wait, brother, are you up to anything?
Because I know how cruel you can be when you hate anything. Are you behind the Demolished fashion mall?” Looks straight into Ethan’s eyes, unscathed by the mean looks spelt across his face.
He lifts one side of his lips, grinning a mischievous smile, causing wry flesh wrinkles to gather around one side of his eyes, leans forward and asks, “Is my baby fine?”.
Nathan pauses in disbelief at the sudden change of topic when all he needs is answers. But he dare not question the Heir, his brother. Otherwise, he'll be looming in the gutters as a poor wretched man in less than 24 hours of one order from his brother’s lips.
He sent a sigh to relieve himself of the anger that had built up in his breath and blurted with a low will, “YES! Your baby, my niece is fine.”
“It's a girl????” “Good boy. You're doing well.” He pretends not to be surprised. I am not happy with the news. But Nathan knew him too well. He was the ladies sugar boy back in college.
“Next time you want to put up an act, you should look me in the eye and deny that you're not happy, that you're probably becoming a sugar daddy.” he teased, massaging his ego, inviting him to the show, that it is okay to blush.
“You're such a silly boy. Don't simp around my daughter like you have been following Juliet for a decade without professing love. You should hang around enough to get her wedding invite before speaking up, frog.”
Both threw cheerful bants laughing like hyenas until an unpleasant sound cut into their brotherly time.
Cring!! Cring!! Cring!!
The sound signalled the end of the prison visit session.
“You don't need to remind us, Mr. Warder,” Ethan asked for 2 minutes indirectly and authoritatively.
“Hey, boy. I will send a letter. You've got some errands to run for me in the free world.”
****
“Doctor, you can not discharge her in this critical condition. Just look at my daughter asking me who am I. What quack doctor are you? She came here in good health and will be vacating all ruined? You better fix this.” Mrs. Laurent ranted with teary eyes.
“Mrs., we can only work within the walls of the information you provided. Moreover, your bills have been piled up.
We appreciate that you cleared up the previous night, but you have bridged our terms and conditions by delaying payments. I am wondering why you chose to keep your identity hidden.”
she smirked and walked past her at the call-up alarm from the Intensive Care Unit.
“wait doc. Who cleared the bills?” the doctor had gone too far to even hear a sound echo.
“Mrs. Hello, Mrs Laurent? Are you there? Eh ehm..” Her senses travelled back to her electrocuted body. She was still in shock as tears of joy lept past her eyelid.
A nurse stretched a document asking her to read and sign for the discharge proceedings. She took the pen, still in disbelief, read through and signed.
The air felt toxic since bankruptcy had fouled the air.
Who must have helped? She pondered. Anyway, I need to get my daughter out of here before they add another charge.
*****
“Whose cat is that?” “that's a dog, former Mrs Ethan. Have you lost your senses, child?”
“Who's former Mrs. Ethan?” “Let me remind you, you're carrying his child in you.” Her words were clouded with slow moans, breaking at intervals when she said a word;
she tried to hold back tears, but she was in a safe spot to show her vulnerability. Her late husband's mansion.
The worst is that we don't have another source of income.
Who should I run to for help?
I wish Damian was still strong and hearty. Or maybe Ethan was not in Jail.
God. Where do I run to?
- Writer
