Chapter 135

Chapter 135

Half a month passed.

Caspian had rented out the entire top floor of the hospital. Four bodyguards stood watch in the corridor, rotating shifts around the clock.

Every morning at eight, Caspian bathed Camilla himself.

He sent the nurse out. He would do it.

He carried a plastic basin. The water was adjusted to the right temperature. He placed a white towel inside. The towel grew heavy as it absorbed the water. He wrung it out. Droplets fell back into the basin.

He drew the curtains. The room dimmed. He unbuttoned Camilla's hospital gown. First button. Second button.

Pale skin. Needle marks above her collarbone. Bruises on her arms.

Caspian wiped her neck with the warm towel. He moved down along her collarbone, carefully avoiding the plastic tubes. He was meticulous. The towel glided over her skin without leaving water stains.

Flynn stood outside the door. The bodyguard stared straight ahead, standing rigid.

Flynn pulled out his phone and checked the work group chat.

Flynn thought to himself: 'Mr. Mitchell hasn't been to the office in half a month. All the meetings happen in the living room outside the hospital room. The shareholders are complaining nonstop, demanding to see him every day. But Mr. Mitchell's got an iron grip—he cut off dividends for two of the loudest troublemakers and shut everyone up. And that Theodric shows up every afternoon at two on the dot. Carrying all kinds of thermos containers. Can't get into the room, so he just stands in the hallway staring through the glass. Like an idiot.'

The elevator doors opened. Theodric stepped out.

He wore a wrinkled gray suit. Stubble covered his chin. His hair was a mess. He carried a silver thermos.

Flynn walked over and blocked his path.

"Mr. Clifford. What'd you bring today?" Flynn asked.

Theodric looked at him. "Pork rib soup. The housekeeper made it. Camilla used to love it."

Flynn gestured toward the hospital room. "Mr. Clifford, Ms. Lavien has a feeding tube. She can only take liquid nutrition through IV. She can't drink your pork rib soup. You should keep it and feed your own brain."

Theodric looked down at the thermos. "I know. I just wanted to bring it. What if she wakes up today? She'll be hungry when she wakes up."

Flynn said nothing. He thought Theodric had lost his mind.

Theodric walked to the glass window. He looked inside.

Caspian was dressing Camilla. He fastened the buttons. Pulled up the blanket. Tucked in the corners.

Theodric watched Caspian's movements. He clenched his fists. His nails dug into his palms.

Theodric thought: 'That's my ex-wife. I never bathed her. Not once. When she was sick, I was always with Serena. Now I don't even have the right to enter her room. I'm a complete bastard. I'll wait for her to wake up. I'll get on my knees. I'll ask her to remarry me.'

The elevator doors opened again. Niamh stepped out.

She wore flats and jeans. She carried a bouquet of sunflowers.

She saw Theodric. She strode toward him.

"You've got some nerve showing up here." Niamh's voice was loud. It echoed through the corridor.

Theodric turned to look at her. He said nothing.

Niamh threw the sunflowers at him. "What are you doing here? Checking if she's dead yet? Your childhood sweetheart is eating and sleeping just fine in that detention center while your ex-wife is lying in there with tubes stuck in her. You satisfied?"

Petals scattered on the floor. Theodric didn't dodge.

"I came to see her," Theodric said.

"See her?" Niamh swore. "Get lost! Just looking at you makes her sick. You're the reason she's like this. Standing here polluting the air."

Niamh walked past him and stopped at the hospital room door. Flynn pushed it open.

Niamh walked in. She placed the sunflowers on the bedside table.

She looked at Camilla. Her eyes reddened. She sniffled.

"Camilla." Niamh called out.

Camilla didn't move.

Caspian sat nearby. "She can't hear you."

Niamh turned to look at Caspian. "Mr. Mitchell. What are you planning to do?"

"Treat her," Caspian said. One word.

"What if she never wakes up?" Niamh asked.

"I'll take care of her for the rest of her life," Caspian said.

Niamh said nothing. She pulled over a chair and sat down. She stared at Camilla's face.

Niamh thought: 'Camilla's had such a hard life. Meeting Theodric. But meeting Caspian now—at least that's one bright spot in all this misery. But what good is it if she doesn't wake up? I need to watch over her. Can't let Theodric get near her again.'

Three in the afternoon. The nanny brought Holden.

Holden wore overalls. His short legs carried him to the bedside. He was too small to reach the bed.

Caspian picked him up and set him at the foot of the bed.

Holden looked at Camilla. "Mommy." His voice was small and tender.

Camilla's eyes stayed closed. No response.

Holden reached out his little hand. He touched Camilla's face. "Mommy's sleeping. I won't be loud. I'll be good."

He lay down beside Camilla. He closed his eyes. Perfectly still.

Caspian watched them. He took out his phone and snapped a photo.

Outside the door, Theodric watched the scene.

He turned his head toward the other end of the corridor. A nurse wheeled someone over. Ollie sat in the wheelchair.

Ollie wore a striped hospital gown, his face pale. The wound on his stomach hadn't fully healed. He held a drawing in his hands.

The nurse wheeled him to the glass window.

Theodric walked over. "Ollie."

Ollie didn't look at him. He stared at Camilla through the glass.

"Mommy," Ollie said softly.

Theodric crouched down. "Ollie, let Dad wheel you inside."

Ollie shook his head. "I'm not going in. Mr. Mitchell is in there. Mommy likes Mr. Mitchell. She doesn't like you."

Theodric froze.

Ollie pressed the drawing against the glass. It showed three people. A woman, a child, and a man. The man had been scribbled over with black crayon until his face was gone.

"This is Mommy and me," Ollie said, pointing at the drawing. "That black one is you. I don't want you. I want Mommy."

Theodric lowered his head. He covered his face with both hands.

The hospital routine repeated itself day after day.

Half a month passed. Camilla showed no signs of waking.

The doctor asked to speak with Caspian. They met in the doctor's office down the hall.

"Mr. Mitchell, the IV nutrition can't sustain her much longer. Her muscles are beginning to atrophy. The cancer cells haven't spread, but her bodily functions continue to decline." Dr. Stuart held up various test reports.

Caspian looked at him. "Find a specialist. If there's no one in the country, find someone abroad. Money isn't an issue."

Dr. Stuart nodded. "We've contacted Dr. Smith overseas. He's a leading authority in neurology. But his schedule is packed. He might not agree to come."

"Make him come. Flynn will handle it." Caspian stood and walked back to the hospital room.