Chapter 85 Chapter 85
In a sudden, theatrical movement, Claire ripped off her sunglasses, revealing her face.
“Look at me closely. Do you still think I would need to lie to get into a hospital?”
The nurse recoiled, startled. Not by her fame, but by the state of the woman's face.
Was this really the movie star? The heavy makeup barely concealed the swelling and bruising on her cheek. She looked like she had just come from a street fight, not a red carpet event.
And she claimed to be Sara's sister?
The nurse felt a bitter taste in her mouth. Claire Ford had never mentioned having sisters in her interviews. She had always portrayed herself as the golden only child. Now, suddenly, she had a “sister” admitted to the VIP ward?
The rumors about the arrogance of celebrities were true. The “good girl” mask fell away, revealing an impatient and rude woman.
“Understood,” murmured the nurse, losing respect but maintaining professionalism. “Follow me.”
(...)
When they reached the corridor of the VIP Ward in the Special Zone, the air changed. The silence was absolute, the floor shone like a mirror, and the smell of the hospital had been replaced by a subtle scent of lavender.
But what made Claire stop was not the luxury. It was the men.
Two bodyguards, tall and broad as walls, wearing impeccable black suits, stood guard at the door to Sara's room. They exuded an aura of danger that screamed, “Don't come near.”
The nurse, nervous, pointed to Claire. “This lady claims to be a relative of the patient.”
One of the bodyguards slowly turned his head. His eyes scanned Claire from top to bottom, showing no emotion or recognition of her fame.
“Wait a moment,” he said in a deep, metallic voice.
He entered the room, leaving Claire standing in the hallway.
Claire, accustomed to having doors opened for her, tried to take a step to follow him.
Immediately, the second bodyguard blocked her path with an outstretched arm. “You need the patient's permission to enter.”
The blood rushed to Claire's head.
That insignificant girl... that sick girl who lived off Caroline... was she daring to bar her way?
“Get out of my way!” Claire shouted, losing her patience. “I'm Sara's sister! Since when do I need permission to see my own family?”
The bodyguard didn't even blink. “I'm sorry, ma'am. Our orders are clear. We only recognize Miss Caroline as the patient's sister. Who are you?”
“Damn it! I'm...”
Claire was about to shout her name, to use her fame as a weapon, when a weak but firm voice sounded from inside the room, amplified by the half-open door.
“I don't know this woman. Please send her away.”
It was Sara's voice.
Claire felt as if she had been slapped again. Anger bubbled up, but she knew she had to get into that room to find out who was paying for all this.
She swallowed her pride, forced her swollen face into a sweet—almost painful—smile, and raised her voice so Sara could hear her.
“Sarinha! Honey, it's me... your sister Claire!” The tone was honeyed, dripping with falsehood. “How can you say you don't know me? Are you upset because I took so long to come? I know, I know... I've been so busy with filming. But I'm here now, aren't I? Don't hold a grudge. Let me in to see how you are, okay?”
There was a second of silence.
Then the girl's response came, cold and sharp as ice:
“Sister? I only have one sister, and her name is Caroline. I don't know who you are.”
Claire's smile froze on her face, turning into a stiff, grotesque grimace.
The bodyguards stared at her with veiled contempt. The humiliation was complete. She had been rejected by a “nobody.”
Claire took a deep breath, swallowing her humiliation, and forced the corners of her mouth up into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
“Sarinha... I have something very important to tell you.” She lowered her voice, assuming a conspiratorial and serious tone. “It has to do with your older sister's safety. Don't you want to know if she's in danger?”
Sara, who was already turning to ignore her, stopped. She frowned, her eyes fixed on Claire, assessing the threat.
Noticing her hesitation, Claire quickly attacked: “I know you care about Caroline. Believe it or not, so do I. She's getting involved in something big, and only you can convince her to stop.”
“What is it?” Sara asked suspiciously.
“I can't talk out here,” Claire whispered, glancing meaningfully at the stone-faced bodyguards.
“Some family matters should not be discussed in front of... employees.”
The girl hesitated for a moment, biting her lip. Concern for her sister spoke louder than her dislike of Claire.
“Let her in,” Sara ordered the security guards.
The men reluctantly stepped aside, and Claire entered, feeling a momentary triumph.
(...)
As soon as the heavy door closed, isolating the sound of the outside world, Sara's mask fell.
“Get on with it,” she demanded, crossing her slender arms over her chest. “What is this about?”
Sara and Caroline had always been united against the world. Claire, the spoiled and illegitimate daughter in their eyes, had always been the enemy. Ever since Claire stole Edward, Sara's contempt had turned to pure hatred. If it weren't for Caroline's name, Claire would never have set foot in there.
Claire, however, did not respond immediately. Her eyes scanned the room, and with every detail, her envy grew like a weed.
This was not a hospital room; it was a presidential suite.
The difference between that luxury and the regular wards was abysmal. There were crystal vases with rare, fresh orchids on the coffee table. Boxes of imported supplements and tonics, whose labels Claire recognized as extremely expensive, were casually stacked on the counter. The air conditioning was silent, the leather sofa looked as soft as butter.
That mysterious man wasn't just paying the bills; he was pampering Sara. He treated her with a dignity and respect that cost a fortune.
It proved how much Caroline meant to him.
Claire's heart filled with bitter gall. Why Caroline? Why did the rejected one deserve to be treated like a queen?
She walked slowly to the edge of the bed, composing her concerned sister expression again.
“Sarinha, how are you feeling?” she asked, her voice dripping with fake honey. “You look... better.”
Sara rolled her eyes, impatient with the drama. “I'm not dead yet, if that's what you're worried about.”
Claire clenched her jaw. The brat was just as arrogant as her sister now that she had a rich protector.
“Get to the point,” Sara snapped impatiently. “You said it had to do with Caroline. What is it?”