Victor slid into the plush leather seat of his car, the scent of expensive leather filling his nostrils. He pulled out his phone, his fingers tapping the screen impatiently. He navigated to the app connected to the spy camera he had, had planted in Elliot's house. The screen flickered, then remained stubbornly blank.
"What the hell?" he muttered, his voice a low growl.
He tapped again, harder this time, but the screen remained unresponsive. First Elaine, now this? he thought, his jaw tightening. Can't anyone around here do their job properly? His frustration mounted. He needed fresh footage. The wedding was nearing and it was the next step in his plans. He picked up his phone and he hit the call button, Lila's name displaying boldly on the screen.
His voice sharp when Lila answered. "Lila, I know you thought I have let you off the hook, I may actually have but your incompetent self keeps bringing you back." He snapped, "what is going on with the camera? It is not working."
"What? It should be," Lila said, her voice laced with surprise. "I checked it myself after I planted it. I made sure the angle was perfect, capturing the whole bedroom room from a high position." "
Well, it is not," Victor said, his voice cold. "I am getting nothing. No signal, no footage, nothing but a black screen."
"I do not know what to tell you," Lila said, her voice defensive. "I did plant it, like you asked. I followed your instructions exactly."
"Did you truly plant it?" Victor asked, his eyes narrowing, his suspicion growing.
"Or did you just lie to get me off your back? Because I am starting to think you're as useless as everyone else around here."
"Of course, I planted it!" Lila exclaimed, her voice rising, a hint of desperation in her voice. "How dare you accuse me of that? I want Elliot just as much as you do. Maybe even more. Also why would I risk those videos coming out to the public?"
"Then explain why it is not working," Victor said, his voice demanding, each word clipped and precise. "Explain why my state-of-the-art spy camera is giving me a blank screen."
Lila hesitated, her mind racing, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. "Maybe something interfered with the signal? There are a lot of electronics in that house. Or maybe the camera malfunctioned? It could have been damaged during installation."
"Excuses," Victor said, his voice flat, devoid of patience. "I don't want excuses, Lila. I want results."
"I will check it out," Lila said, her voice trembling slightly, the threat in Victor's voice sinking in. "I will go there and see what happened. "
"You will fix it," Victor said, his voice hard, each word a command. "And you'll fix it fast. Or else…" He let the threat hang in the air, unspoken but clear, a chilling promise of retribution.
Lila swallowed hard, the weight of Victor's expectations pressing down on her. "Or else what?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, fear lacing her tone.
"You know bold of you to blame me, when I could blame you for giving me defective product and not testing properly." Lila shot back tired of Victor's arrogance.
"Just get it fixed that is all," Victor said, his voice cold and dangerous, the words sending a shiver down her spine.
"Do not test me, Lila. I am not in the mood for games. I am in the mood for results."
He ended the call, the line going dead, leaving Lila in a state of panic. Victor stared at his phone, his jaw tight, his reflection a mask of fury in the dark screen. Everyone is incompetent, he thought, his anger simmering. Everyone is failing me. But they will learn. He started the car, the engine roaring to life, a mechanical growl mirroring his inner turmoil. He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, his mind already plotting his next move.
***
Meanwhile, at the hospital, Elliot and Jonah walked in, a heavy silence between them, a stark contrast to the usual lively chatter of the hospital.
"I will be right here," Elliot said, his voice gentle, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and concern, as he squeezed Jonah's hand. His touch was warm, a brief respite from the coldness of the hospital.
Jonah nodded, his face pale and drawn, his eyes reflecting a mix of fear and resignation. "I know," he said, his voice barely audible, his throat tight with suppressed emotion. "Thank you for being here."
He didn't want to see his mother, not yet. The wound from their last encounter was still too fresh, the memory of her harsh words still echoing in his mind. He scribbled a quick note on a piece of paper, his handwriting shaky: "Mom, Dad, just here for treatment. Thinking of you both. I will come by later if I can." He gave it to Nurse Mirabel, the young nurse who had been attending to them all along, and asked her to deliver it to his parents' ward.
Dr. Wilson greeted them with a calm smile, the professional mask barely concealing the concern in his eyes. "Alright, Jonah," he said, his voice steady and reassuring, but with an underlying gravity. "Let us get started. We will try to make this as comfortable as possible."
The next few hours were a blur of activity, a series of clinical procedures. Jonah was prepped, his skin marked with lines and symbols. He was positioned on the cold metal table, the machine looming over him like a mechanical beast. The air crackled with energy as the radiation machine whirred to life, a mechanical hum that filled the room.
Hours later, the treatment was over. Jonah felt weak, his body trembling, his skin feeling hot and sensitive. He pushed himself up, trying to appear strong, but his legs felt like lead.
"I am okay," Jonah said, his voice strained, a forced smile on his face. "Just give me a minute."
But his body betrayed him. A wave of nausea washed over him, a dizzying sensation that made the room spin. He stumbled towards the bathroom, his hand flying to his mouth, Elliot close behind, his arm a steady support.
He barely made it to the toilet before heaving, his body convulsing as he emptied his stomach, the retching echoing in the small, sterile room. He felt utterly drained, the harsh treatment taking its toll, leaving him weak and vulnerable.
Elliot knelt beside him, his hand rubbing Jonah's back in a soothing motion, his voice filled with genuine concern and helplessness. "Easy, love," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Just let it out. I am here."
When the retching finally subsided, leaving Jonah weak and trembling, Elliot helped him to the sink to rinse his mouth. Jonah leaned heavily against Elliot, his body shaking, his face pale and clammy. He felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him, a profound weariness that went beyond physical weakness. He felt vulnerable and exposed, a stark contrast to his usual strength and independence.
"I hate this," he whispered, his voice hoarse, each word a testament to his suffering. "I hate what it's doing to me. I hate feeling so helpless. I should not be dealing with this especially now."
"I know," Elliot said, his voice gentle, his eyes filled with empathy. "But you're strong, Jonah. You are the strongest person I know. You will get through this. We will get through this together."