Chapter 137

Chapter 137

The next day, Caspian pressed the call button at the bedside. The plastic button made a crisp click.

Doctors rushed in. Dr. Stuart led. Dr. Smith followed. A nurse wheeled in an equipment cart.

Caspian pointed at Camilla's fingers. "They moved. Just now."

Dr. Smith pulled out a monitoring device. Electrode patches were placed on Camilla's forehead and temples. The waveform on the screen began to undulate. The lines shifted from flat to rhythmic pulses.

"A miracle," Dr. Smith said. He looked at the data on the screen and wrote several lines in his notebook.

Finn walked in. He carried his black cloth bag, its edges worn. He approached the bed and reached out to examine her.

No one in the room spoke. Only the steady beeping of the machines.

Finn withdrew his hand. "Go prepare the medicine. Three bowls of water boiled down to one."

Caspian looked at Camilla's face. Her eyelashes were trembling. Faster and faster.

The next second, Camilla opened her eyes.

Light flooded into them. She closed them, then opened them again. Above her was a white ceiling. A square ventilation grate. The air smelled of disinfectant mixed with medicine.

She turned her head and saw Caspian.

Caspian sat in a black leather chair. He looked at her. He didn't move. His hands rested on his knees. His knuckles were slightly white.

"You're awake," Caspian said. His voice was hoarse.

Camilla opened her mouth. No sound came out. Her throat was dry and burning. The feeding tube scraped against her esophagus.

Caspian picked up a medical cotton swab from the nightstand. He dipped it in warm water. Droplets rippled in the cup. He applied it to her lips. Left to right. Three passes.

"Don't talk. You still have the tube in," Caspian said. He tossed the swab into the yellow medical waste bin.

Camilla blinked. Indicating she understood.

Dr. Smith approached. He held a medical penlight. He peeled back Camilla's eyelid. The beam shone in.

"Pupil response present. Focus normal." Dr. Smith turned off the light. "Worth noting—her neural recovery rate exceeds medical logic."

Finn stroked the beard on his chin. "My treatment method is the best in the world."

Dr. Smith looked at Finn. "This doesn't conform to scientific logic."

Finn glared at him. "You don't know shit."

Camilla looked at them. She wanted to laugh. It pulled at her facial muscles. She stopped.

Caspian held her hand. His palm was sweaty.

"The exhibition space is ready," Caspian said. "When you're discharged, come cut the ribbon."

Camilla's fingers moved. She traced a line in his palm.

Caspian's grip tightened. He enclosed her hand completely.

Outside in the hallway.

Flynn stood at the door, looking at the stock chart on his phone. The red line climbed steadily upward. The Mitchell Group's stock had risen three points.

Flynn thought: 'Mr. Mitchell won't go bankrupt. My mortgage payment next month is secure. Year-end bonus saved.'

The elevator doors opened with a ding.

Theodric stepped out. He wore a gray jacket, stains on the cuffs. He carried a red plastic bag with a few apples inside.

Flynn walked over and blocked the hallway.

"Mr. Clifford. Apples today?" Flynn asked, his tone flat.

Theodric looked at Flynn. "I bought them."

Flynn pointed at the hospital room door. "She's awake. Don't go in and upset her."

The plastic bag dropped from Theodric's hand. It tore. Apples rolled out. One rolled to the edge of Flynn's leather shoe.

"She's awake?" Theodric asked. He took a step forward.

Flynn kicked the apple aside. It hit the wall and bounced back.

"Don't block the way," Theodric said, reaching out to push Flynn.

Flynn didn't move. Two bodyguards stepped forward and grabbed Theodric's arms from both sides.

"Let me go! That's my wife!" Theodric struggled. His shoe soles scraped against the tile, making a harsh sound.

"Ex-wife," Flynn corrected. "Mr. Clifford, you're a bankrupt, unemployed vagrant now. You have no visitation rights. What's interesting is that you still haven't grasped reality."

Theodric stopped struggling. He stared at the glass window of the hospital room. The curtains were half-drawn. He couldn't see anything.

"I need to see her. Just once," Theodric said.

Three days later.

Camilla had the feeding tube removed. Her esophagus felt a slight sting. She could drink liquid food now.

The nurse brought a white bowl filled with thick porridge.

Caspian took it. He scooped up a spoonful with a stainless steel spoon, blew on it to cool it, and brought it to Camilla's lips.

Camilla opened her mouth and swallowed. The porridge flowed down her throat into her stomach, bringing warmth.

"I can do it myself," Camilla said, her voice hoarse.

"You don't have the strength. The bowl is heavy," Caspian said. He continued scooping, cooling, and feeding her.

The door opened. Niamh walked in. She wore a denim jacket and carried an enormous fruit basket tied with a red ribbon.

"Camilla." Niamh set the basket on the table and pulled over a chair.

Camilla looked at her. "You've gained weight."

Niamh touched her face. "It's called happiness weight. You've been lying here for a month. I've been eating takeout every day. Fried chicken and beer."

Caspian set down the empty bowl, grabbed a tissue, wiped Camilla's mouth, and tossed the crumpled tissue away.

Niamh watched Caspian's movements.

Niamh thought: 'Mr. Mitchell's solid. Doesn't mind serving her hand and foot. Way better than that waste of space outside. That waste only causes trouble.'

"That one outside is still here," Niamh said, pointing at the door.

Camilla looked at the ventilation grate on the ceiling. "Who?"

"Theodric," Niamh said. "He comes every day with junk. Today he brought a bag of oranges. The peels were all dried out."

Camilla closed her eyes. "I won't see him."

Caspian stood, smoothed the hem of his suit jacket, and walked out.

In the hallway, Theodric leaned against the wall, holding a half-peeled orange. The pith clung to the flesh.

Caspian stopped in front of him.

"She won't see you," Caspian said.

Theodric looked up. He met Caspian's eyes. "She's awake. I need to talk to her."

"Talk about what?" Caspian asked.

"To say I'm sorry. To say I was wrong. To say Serena deceived me." Theodric straightened. He squeezed the orange in his hand. Juice dripped out.

Caspian looked at him. "Your apology is worthless. Your son is in a room downstairs. How many times have you visited him?"

Theodric froze. These past few days, he'd been waiting on the top floor for Camilla. He hadn't gone downstairs to see Ollie. He'd forgotten.

"Ollie has a nurse. I paid for it," Theodric said.

Caspian laughed—a sound that came from deep in his chest. "You're not even fit to be a father. Get lost."

Theodric didn't move. "I'm not leaving. I need to see Camilla."

Caspian turned to Flynn. "Throw him out. Notify security—he's not allowed through the hospital doors again."

The bodyguards stepped forward, grabbed Theodric's arms, and dragged him toward the elevator.

Theodric struggled. The orange fell from his hand. A bodyguard's shoe crushed it. Yellow juice stained the floor.

"Caspian! What right do you have to control her? I'm her ex-husband!" Theodric shouted. His voice echoed down the hallway.

The elevator doors closed. The sound was cut off.

Flynn pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Send housekeeping to the top floor. Clean the floor. Mop it thoroughly."

Inside the room, Camilla heard the shouting outside.

She looked out the window. The leaves outside were green.

Caspian walked in and closed the door.

"He's gone," Caspian said.

"Thank you," Camilla said.

Caspian pulled the chair over and sat down. "No need to thank me. You owe me for medical expenses. Twelve million dollars. Flynn's keeping a record."

Camilla turned to look at him. "I don't have money. I left the marriage with nothing."

"Work to pay it off," Caspian said.

"What can I do?"

"Be Holden's mother." Caspian looked into her eyes.

Camilla said nothing. She stared at the water cup on the nightstand.

Niamh coughed. "I'm going out to buy coffee. You two talk."

Niamh left the room and closed the door behind her. The lock clicked.

Only the two of them remained.

"Mr. Mitchell," Camilla began.

"Use my name."

"Caspian."

"I'm here."

"I don't have long to live. The illness," Camilla said, stating a fact.

Caspian picked up the blue medical chart from the nightstand and opened it.

"Dr. Smith said your cancer cells have stopped spreading. Dr. Miller's medicine worked. Your bodily functions are recovering. You can live a long time. Until you're old." Caspian set the chart down.

Camilla looked at him. "Really?"

"I never lie. It's written clearly in the chart." Caspian stood and walked to the window. He pulled back the curtains.

Sunlight poured in. It fell across the white hospital bed. Light dappled the blanket.

"When you're discharged, go pick up Holden. He cries at home every day. The nanny can't calm him down," Caspian said, his back to her.

Camilla looked at his silhouette. His shoulders were broad. His suit was perfectly tailored.

"Okay," she said.