Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Two
Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Two
HERMIONE
"Can you come and get me, please?" I ask Noah over the phone as I exit Dad’s study, the shock of the recent discovery still weighing on me.
"I’m at the gates already," Noah responds.
I lift an eyebrow in silent question as I walk toward the exit.
"I failed to protect Aiden. I couldn't let you out of my sight, either," Noah explains as I approach the heavy iron gates.
"It was an explosion, Noah. You couldn't have protected him from that fire; you would have only died with him."
"I’m not taking chances with your survival," Noah says firmly.
I let him have the last word and end the call. He’s waiting just outside the gate, stepping out of the car the moment he spots me.
"You’re good?" he asks, his eyes scanning me for any signs of injury.
I shake my head. "I’m not," I whisper.
Noah nods in understanding and extends his tablet toward me. "This went viral a few hours after the burial."
I take the tablet, my eyes locking onto the bold, black text of the headline:
BREAKING: Lachlan Mendes Arrested for Murder of Aiden Mendes’ Mother; Linked to Recent Assassination.
I scroll through the article, reading about a leaked confession where Lachlan admitted to murdering Aiden’s mother—a crime initially covered up by Beatrice and several other accomplices.
"He murdered Aiden trying to prevent this from being released," Noah murmurs, clenching his jaw. "Whoever sent it to Aiden first must have leaked it the moment they heard news of his demise."
A video plays of Lachlan being led out of a police van in handcuffs. The sight is satisfying, but the feeling quickly dims, overshadowed by the agony of what he robbed me of.
I return the tablet to Noah with a quiet "Thanks."
I close my eyes, feeling a dull ache throb behind my temples. Everything that has occurred today—from the final goodbye to Aiden, to the revelation of my birth father, to the sheer depth of my mother’s deviousness—it’s too much. I need to process.
"Just take me home, please," I beg, my plea almost inaudible.
"I wouldn't advise that at the moment," Noah says. "With the news of Lachlan’s involvement blowing up, the press are stationed at your house, waiting for a sighting."
I twist my mouth in annoyance. "Typical. I’ll go to my condo instead, until this blows over."
Noah nods and opens the car door for me. I slip inside, murmuring another "Thanks." He closes the door, slides behind the wheel, and revs the engine to life.
The drive is silent—as silent as the emptiness in my gut. It’s as though my body has detached itself from the storm of emotions within me; I have become numb under the weight of it all. I am still reeling from Aiden’s death when another revelation is dumped on me.
My biological father—the man who rejected me and only sought me out when it suited his career—is currently a patient of mine. I operated on him a year ago. He is one of the few unsuccessful surgeries I’ve had, a case with no medical explanation as to why he isn't recuperating.
I know my work was flawless. I have pored over his records for months, searching for what went wrong. Everything was perfect.
My eyes flash.
Unless someone has been sabotaging his recovery to nurse a vendetta.
I sit up abruptly, startling Noah into slamming on the brakes.
"What's going on, Hermione?" Noah glances over his shoulder before refocusing on the road and continuing to drive.
"The hospital. Turn back, please," I breathe, the fires of suspicion burning within me.
I pray to God that I’m wrong. Mom couldn't be that despicable. She wouldn't sabotage a patient’s recovery out of malice stemming from their history. She may be annoyingly assertive, but surely she doesn't operate outside professional codes.
Noah doesn’t ask questions. He navigates the car toward the nearest intersection and pulls a U-turn toward the hospital. My thoughts race with every mile we cover; the truth I’m about to uncover knots my stomach into a tight ball of dread and apprehension.
The press is waiting at the hospital again, ready to accost me on sight and barrage me with questions. I meet Noah’s gaze in the rearview mirror as he pulls the car to a halt at the curb, briefly scanning the chaos outside.
"Ready?"
"Let's go."
I step out of the car the moment he does.
"There she is!" someone shouts, and the reporters surge forward in a blur of bodies, cameras, and relentless questions. Noah uses his body as a barricade, weaving a path for us until we are safely inside the building. The security team promptly closes the doors behind us, sealing the media out.
A look of shock crosses the guards' faces when they see me, before they mask their expressions and offer polite nods of greeting. Since today was my husband’s burial, no one expected me to show up at work for the foreseeable future—certainly not until my period of mourning had ended.
Noah follows closely behind me as I stride through the lobby toward the elevator. It conveys us sharply to the VIP floor where Senator Williams —my biological father—is receiving treatment.
I likely require a toxicology screen to investigate his case. That must be the only reason why, despite relentless, thorough examinations, I couldn't find anything wrong with his surgery. He should be living his life right now, yet regardless of the tests conducted, he won't wake up.
Nurse Celia isn’t at her station when I arrive. The other nurse on duty looks up, her eyes flashing with surprise at the sight of me. "I wasn't expecting you, Professor Pierce."
"I didn't expect to be here, either. Kindly pull up the Senator’s chart for me, please?"
"Of course," she nods, proceeding to do as instructed. "Dr. May is with him at the moment."
I narrow my eyes. "She’s with him? Is he awake?"
Naturally, the care of my patient falls to her in my absence, but something feels off.
"No. She’s been monitoring his progress for a while now," the nurse says, slowing down as she speaks and lifting an eye in curiosity. "Aren’t you aware?"
She looks to the side as Nurse Celia joins us.
"Professor Pierce?" Celia looks startled, her eyes shifting from me to Noah.
"Since when has Dr. May been visiting Senator Williams ’s ward?" I demand.
"Since he came out of surgery."
I cant my head to the side, my jaw tightening as I process the timeline. In a burst of movement, I storm toward the Senator’s room with Noah and Nurse Celia on my heels.
"Professor Pierce, what’s going on?" Celia calls out.
Dr. May is just about to exit when I burst in. She rears back in shock at the sight of me, her shoulders instantly tensing as our eyes meet.
The tray in her hand visibly shakes, revealing an empty syringe and—my eyes narrow on the other content of the tray.
I snatch it away, my anger pulsing as I realize what it is. Noah and Nurse Celia step in behind me.
"Professor Pierce," Dr. May begins, but the tray clatters to the floor as she loses her grip.
I hold the vial in my hand, a look of utter disbelief on my face. "Why?" I demand, my voice silent yet weighty.
"What's going on, Professor Pierce?" Nurse Celia asks, her eyes darting from the mess on the floor to the vial in my hand. Then she looks at Dr. May, who appears desperate for the ground to swallow her whole.
"Whose orders have you been acting on, May?" I demand.
Nurse Celia covers her mouth as realization dawns on her.
"Why didn't you tell me she's been secretly checking on my patient behind my back?" I snap at Celia.
"I thought... I thought you knew. The Director approved it."
I let out a harsh laugh. There it was—the confirmation I had been praying was wrong.
I turn back to Dr. May. "For an entire year, you’ve been sneaking benzodiazepines into my patient's treatment without my knowledge. You stood right there while I pored over his records, wondering why he wasn't waking up, yet you were the one behind it all."
"I..." Dr. May tries to speak, but I raise a hand to hush her.
"What did she promise you? The certification you've been pining for? A higher position? Money? What exactly was worth ruining a man's life over?" I demand. "Get out."
My words are a sibilant whisper, but they send Dr. May hurrying out the door as though I had barked the order. I turn to Nurse Celia. "Is there another professor available?"
"I saw Professor Patel earlier..."
"Call him." I am not in the mental state to perform an examination myself. The urge to confront my mother one more time is so strong that focusing on the damage done over the last year is impossible right now.
"And warn him," I add, "that if he does anything other than treat the Senator, he will forfeit his license as well." I can't trust him fully; he’s likely just another of Mom's lackeys. "Ensure he is monitored properly this time. The Senator's recovery has been sabotaged by a sedative that has kept him in a comatose state for far too long. I’m beginning to doubt it’s not too late to save him."
Dr. May had been carefully injecting him with infinitesimal doses to escape detection. I relay further instructions on what needs to be done. Nurse Celia nods sharply and moves out to execute my orders.
Noah steps closer. He is silent, yet his questions are palpable.
My mother is beyond despicable. I am speechless. Simply speechless. I roll my eyes toward the ceiling and let out a heavy exhale.