He Hated Me Until The Rainy Night

Chapter 8: The Hospital Basement

3:17 AM. St. Mercy Hospital. Basement waiting room.

I was asleep in a plastic chair when my phone screamed.

“Sally? It’s Nurse Patel. Your mom’s BP dropped. We need you here. Now.”

I was running before she finished the sentence.

Jackson Group ID still around my neck. Victor’s hoodie over my scrubs. 3 hours of sleep in 4 days.

I burst through the ER doors and almost ran into Victor.

He looked like death. Suit jacket gone. Shirt untucked. Hair wild.

His mom. Mrs. Eleanor Jackson.

“What are you”

“She collapsed,” he cut me off. Voice raw. “Stroke. They brought her to St. Mercy. Same hospital as your mom.”

The words didn’t make sense.

And then I saw it. Room 12B. My mom.

Room 12C. Mrs. Jackson.

Across the hall from each other.

“Are you serious?” I whispered.

Victor ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t plan this, Sally.”

We ended up in the basement waiting room. Because the 4th floor family rooms were full.

Fluorescent lights. Peeling chairs. A vending machine that ate my $2.

No gala dresses. No champagne.

Just me in borrowed scrubs and him in a $4000 suit that looked like he’d slept in it.

We didn’t talk for an hour.

At 4:30 AM the doors slammed open.

“Where is she? Where’s my sister?”

Victor’s aunt. Patricia Jackson.

Drunk. 4:30 AM. In Chanel.

“Patricia, not now—” Victor stood.

“Don’t you Patricia me!” She swayed. “I heard about Eleanor. I came as soon as I heard. Is she dead?”

“Lower your voice.”

“Why? So no one hears the truth?” She laughed. Ugly. “Just like no one heard the truth 3 years ago?”

The room went cold.

I froze.

Victor stepped between us. “Patricia. Go home.”

“No.” She pointed a shaky finger at me. “Her. The girl you ruined. The girl you blacklisted. You want to know why she took the blame, Victor? Because your perfect little Vanessa was DRUNK.”

Victor went still. “Don’t.”

“Oh, don’t? Don’t what? Tell the truth?” Patricia hiccupped. “Lily was with Vanessa that night. Not Sally. Vanessa called me crying at 9AM. ‘Aunt Pat, I killed someone.’ Those were her words.”

The vending machine buzzed.

I couldn’t breathe.

“She begged me to keep quiet,” Patricia went on. Tears and mascara now. “Said your dad would disown her. Said the Jackson name would be ruined. And you... you were so angry. So you needed someone to blame. So you chose Sally.”

“Shut up.” Victor’s voice was low. Dangerous.

“Or what? You’ll fire me too?” Patricia laughed. “I saw the texts, Victor. I was there when Vanessa deleted them. I helped her.”

Silence.

Heavy. Crushing.

Victor turned to me slowly.

My face was wet. I didn’t know when I started crying.

“Is it true?” he asked. Not to Patricia. To me.

I nodded. Once. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you wouldn’t have believed me!” I shouted. It echoed in the basement. “Because you loved her! Because your family would destroy me!”

Patricia collapsed into a chair. Crying now. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have”

But no one was listening to her.

Victor and I were staring at each other across 3 years of lies.

He looked wrecked. Like I’d punched him.

“I called her reckless,” he whispered. “I told people she was dangerous. I made sure no one hired her.”

“I know.”

“I did that to you.”

“I know.”

He closed his eyes. When he opened them, something had broken. For good this time.

“I’m so sorry, Sally.”

It was the first time he’d said my name like that in 3 years. Like it meant something.

Before I could answer, a nurse ran in.

“Mr. Jackson? Mrs. Jackson is asking for you. And Mrs. Bennett, your mom is awake.”

We both moved.

In the hallway, our shoulders brushed.

Victor stopped.

“Box 214,” he said quietly. “Grand Central. Tomorrow. 10AM. Please.”

It wasn’t a demand anymore.

It was a plea.

I nodded.

He went to his mom.

I went to mine.

Two women. Two hospital rooms.

And finally, the truth in the middle.

At 6:12 AM I sat by my mom’s bed. She squeezed my hand.

“Baby, who was that man?”

“Someone who finally heard me,” I whispered.