Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Three

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Three

HERMIONE

Overwhelmed by Dr. May's betrayal, my mother’s vileness, and the cascading disasters of the day, I retire to my office feeling completely drained. Noah follows closely behind, his unspoken question still hanging in the air like a physical weight.
I sag onto the office couch, my head tilted back toward the ceiling. Too much has occurred today. After several moments of staring blankly into the silence, Noah grants me space, promising to stay nearby. I continue to stare at nothing long after he leaves, until the shrill ring of my phone shatters the quiet.
I move lethargically to check the caller ID. It is Dad.
"Hi, Dad. How are you feeling?" I ask, my voice thin.
"Recovering. And you? Where are you? I just watched the news about Lachlan."
"I've seen it. I'm at the hospital now." I pause, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. "I’ve seen him."
Dad goes silent at the crack in my voice, discerning the gravity of the situation before he speaks. "Is there something wrong?"
"Karma," I reply. "Mom has been dishing it out to the Senator."
"What do you mean?"
"Just let her know..." I trail off, realizing I can't even stand the thought of facing her. If I confront her, she will undoubtedly try to get physical again, and God help me, I won't hold back this time. I may really mark her face with my hand. "Tell her the Medical Executive Committee will be requesting her audience pretty soon. I’m reporting her."
I am not just going to the hospital’s internal teams; I am going to the police. She should pray it isn’t too late to save the Senator. I don't give a damn that he is my father—she tampered with a patient's recovery. She is technically killing a man, slowly. If he doesn't survive this, Mom can rest assured she’s heading to jail.
"What has happened, Hermione?"
"Tell her, Dad. I know she’s been punishing the Senator now. I caught her lackey in the act."
Dad sucks in a deep breath as the realization finally dawns on him. After a long silence, he replies, "I will let her know."
"I'm sorry to request this of you, Dad," I say.
Confronting Mom would have been the better option, but she wouldn’t have picked up my call anyway, given her boiling rage toward me. Besides, the last thing Dad wants right now is to deal with her after she ridiculed him so terribly earlier.
"It’s okay. I’ll inform her. Have you eaten?"
"I will, soon."
"Ensure you do," he says.
"I will. Thanks, Dad. You too—take care."
He ends the call and I set the phone down. Noah walks into my office a few minutes later with a manila bag of food.
"Hungry?" he questions, scanning my face.
My stomach feels hollow. Even though I haven't eaten all day, I don't feel hungry—not with the pangs of emotion gripping my chest. Noah doesn't wait for my answer before he begins to set the order before me. He hands me a spoon, which I accept. The sound of plastic covers being opened rips through the silence.
"Eat up," Noah gestures.
"What about you?"
"I have already eaten. Eat to regain your strength."
The food, despite its delicious aroma, tastes like sand in my mouth. My mind is poring over far too many details to appreciate the taste of the food. I eat mechanically, shoving spoonful after spoonful into my mouth until my stomach rumbles a low warning. My belly hurts, hinting at indigestion should I persist in eating so absentmindedly.
I reach for the lid and seal the plastic container back in place. Noah holds out a bottle of water. I murmur thanks as I take it, unlatch the cap, and drink. After a sufficient amount, I replace the cap and set everything back into the manila bag, muttering another thanks to Noah.
He allows me to rest for a moment before he inquires, one brow lifted, "Are you going to tell me what’s going on?"
I twist my mouth, meeting Noah’s gaze. A sigh escapes me. "It’s my mom," I begin, clicking my tongue.
A confused arch of an eyebrow is Noah’s only response.
"I operated on the patient in the VIP ward a year ago. He ought to have woken up by now, yet he remains in a comatose state. I just discovered that my subordinate has been tampering with his recovery under my mom’s orders."
Noah blinks. "Why?"
"They have a history together. I suppose it’s her way of getting back at him," I reply, forcing down another swallow. Mom certainly knew her actions couldn't remain a secret from me forever. One way or another, I would have unearthed her shady dealings with Dr. May behind closed doors. For an entire year, she had calculatedly tethered the Senator to a deathbed, leaving him hanging in limbo. Was a whole year not excessive to punish a person?
Nevertheless, I am reporting her to the Board of Trustees. Both she and Dr. May will face the consequences of their actions.
Silence descends upon the office as every event of the day replays in my head, from the funeral to Mom’s faux announcement. She still has an ultimatum to meet before I cast her as a liar. The media are prowling outside, waiting for any juicy information to latch onto—and nothing would excite them more than exposing my mother’s lies to the public.
My stomach knots at the thought of exposing her. She may not be disturbed by the way her actions hurt those around her, but I am not like her. I maintain an impression of iciness to project strength; I’ve discovered that people tend to take the soft-hearted for granted. Dad is a typical example.
"If I say you’re pregnant, then you’re pregnant."
That statement drifts into my memory from the void. I narrow my eyes, pondering. What if—?
Mom hasn't been showing; she’s definitely not carrying a baby. What if everything unfolding has been part of her plan all along? With everything happening, I don’t doubt Mom’s strategic planning or her devious mind.
I’ve often wondered why Mom joined forces with the Mendes family—why she chose Aiden as my partner when Lachlan was, at least superficially, the better brother. I shake my head, finding the thought preposterous. Mom may have a shrewd mind, but there is no way she could have predicted this outcome. There is no way she could have been involved in—
My jaw drops open. I retrieve my phone at once, my hands flying over the screen as I type in a search term to confirm my suspicion.
"Ectogenesis," I read aloud.
Noah stands at attention, his eyes fixed on me, waiting for an explanation.
The technology hasn't been fully developed yet, but given Mom’s confidence in the existence of a baby—when neither she nor I am carrying one—this is definitely the approach she’s taken.
If that is so, then it's possible that everything that has befallen the Mendes family was her plan all along. She manipulated their lives for a single goal: usurping their legacy, as though our own wasn't enough.
"What's going on, Hermione?" Noah's voice breaks the storm of thoughts in my mind.
"I need to go back to my parents' house," I say. "I need to speak with my mom."
I bite down hard on my tongue, silently praying that my suspicions are wrong. Mom couldn't have been involved in Aiden's death... could she? Announcing a false heir of his—an heir that is undoubtedly hers—on the day of his burial screams of a motive. It’s an agenda to take over everything my husband ever worked for. It’s the reason he was targeted from the very beginning.
I should have known.
I surge to my feet, and Noah rises with me. He leads me toward the door, a grim silence accompanying us. We run into Professor Patel on the way.
"Dr. Pierce," he says, skipping the usual fanaticism this time. I remain unbothered.
I step closer to him. "Professor Patel. I believe Nurse Celia has delivered my message."
"I received it. You can trust me; I will do everything I can..."
"I hope you do. Even if the Director tells you otherwise..."
"Contrary to your beliefs about my ethics, Dr. Pierce, I may flatter those in authority, but I do not support vice. I will work actively on the Senator’s recovery. Trust me."
I nod sharply and excuse myself.