chapter 108
Robert's POV:
The antiseptic smell of the hospital had become as familiar to me as my own cologne these past weeks, seeping into my clothes and clinging to my skin long after I'd left Rebecca's bedside.
I stood in the corridor outside her room, watching through the narrow window as Lucas paced back and forth, his usually composed features twisted with frustration.
He'd been searching for Vivienne for a full day now, and the strain was beginning to show in the rigid set of his shoulders and the sharp, agitated movements of his hands.
I caught fragments of his phone conversation, his voice carrying despite the barrier. "...still nothing... checked everywhere..." He ended the call with a vicious jab at the screen, then noticed me watching and gestured for me to enter.
"Any luck?" I asked, though his expression had already given me the answer.
"None." His jaw clenched. "If she's dead somewhere, it would be the best."
The casual cruelty of the statement shouldn't have surprised me. But hearing him dismiss his fiancée's life so easily still made my stomach turn.
He must have seen something in my expression because he met my gaze directly, his eyes cold and unwavering.
"What? You think I'm being harsh?"
He leaned against the window frame, his voice dropping to a conversational tone that somehow made his words more chilling. "Come on, Robert. Let's not pretend we don't both know what she's capable of. She bribed her way out of a psychiatric facility—that takes planning, and a very specific kind of desperation."
He straightened, adjusting his cuffs with methodical precision. "Someone who goes to those lengths isn't looking for a tearful family reunion. She's angry, she's unstable, and she has nothing left to lose. So yes, I think we'd all sleep better if she were dead in a ditch somewhere."
"Lucas—"
"We both know who she'll go after, don't we?" His smile was razor-thin. "Sebastian is at that economic summit. That leaves Elena as the obvious target."
The words hit me like a physical blow, and I felt my hands clench involuntarily at my sides.
Elena. My gentle daughter who'd already endured so much at Vivienne's hands. The thought of her facing Vivienne's wrath again, especially now when she was pregnant and vulnerable, made my chest constrict.
"I'll talk to Rebecca," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Perhaps she can convince Vivienne to come home."
The doctor emerged from Rebecca's room then, his white coat pristine and his expression professionally neutral.
He beckoned me aside, and I followed him down the corridor, away from Lucas's sharp ears. "Mr. Sterling," he began in that measured tone that always preceded bad news, "the latest test results have come back. I need you to prepare yourself—the situation is more serious than we initially thought."
My stomach dropped, though I kept my face carefully blank. "What do you mean?"
"After preliminary analysis, we believe your wife is suffering from uremia. "
The word hit me like a sledgehammer. Uremia. I knew enough about medicine to understand what that meant—kidney failure, toxins building up in the blood, a slow poisoning of the body from within.
"There must be some mistake," I heard myself say, my voice sounding distant and hollow. "Could the tests be wrong? "
The doctor's expression softened slightly. "Please try not to panic. Uremia isn't necessarily a death sentence anymore, though you should prepare yourself mentally for what's ahead. The best chance for recovery would be a kidney transplant, assuming we can find a compatible donor."
I became aware that Rebecca was standing in her doorway, having heard every word.
Her face had drained of color, and she swayed slightly, gripping the doorframe for support. Lucas rushed to steady her, and together we guided her back to the bed.
"Don't worry, Rebecca," Lucas said smoothly. "I'll find the best doctors for you. "
"Darling," I said instead, taking her cold hand in mine, "you heard the doctor. This isn't hopeless."
Rebecca took a deep, shuddering breath, her fingers tightening around mine with surprising strength. "I want to see Vivienne," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Call her. Tell her... tell her I need her."
Lucas and I exchanged a quick glance.
I cleared my throat, knowing there was no gentle way to deliver this news. "Rebecca, I need to tell you something. Vivienne... she's not at the facility anymore. She escaped yesterday."
Her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed with hurt. "Escaped? Then why hasn't she come to me? I'm her mother—if she's free, why isn't she here?"
"Don't worry," Lucas interjected smoothly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I'll find her and bring her back to you."
Rebecca's grip on my hand tightened suddenly, her eyes boring into mine with desperate intensity. "Vivienne has those charges hanging over her, and now I'm sick. There's no one to run the company, Robert. No one to protect our family's legacy."
I knew where this was heading and tried to deflect. "You have capable managers. Promote one of them to handle things temporarily until you're well."
"No!" The vehemence in her voice startled me. "I can't trust outsiders. Not with three generations of Sterling blood and sweat poured into that company. You know business, Robert. You could hold things together until I recover."
"Rebecca, I can't just abandon you here—"
"There are nurses, caregivers. I'll be fine." Her smile was strained but determined. "Please, Robert."
I stared at her for a long moment, seeing both the woman I'd married and the calculating matriarch who'd made my daughter's life miserable.
"All right," I said finally, the words heavy on my tongue.
I left her room with Lucas, who immediately excused himself to continue his search. Once alone in the corridor, I pulled out my phone.
The phone rang twice before her gentle voice answered. "Dad?"
"Elena, sweetheart," I began, trying to keep the urgency out of my voice. "I need to tell you something. Vivienne... she's escaped from the psychiatric facility. We don't know where she is."