Chapter 5 Five
Thane, 30
"Thane! Are you listening to me?"
Camilla’s voice shrilled through the speaker, slicing through the dull throb of the migraine that had been hammering against my skull all morning. I rubbed my forehead frantically, trying to massage away the tension while she continued her tirade.
"I’m telling you, it was humiliating! This woman—she had this egotistical aura like she owned the entire city. She insulted me, Thane! She threw money around and treated my mother and me like we were nothing but dirt under her shoe yesterday!"
She has been nagging me about doing something since last night.
"Camilla, I’m in the middle of a conference meeting," I interrupted, my voice low. I didn't have the energy to parse through her hysterics. "I don't have time for this."
"But she insulted the future Mrs. Devereux! You have to do something. You have to handle it!"
"I said I’ll handle it," I replied, ending the call before she could utter another word.
I tossed the phone onto the mahogany table, exhaling a heavy breath. The silence in the boardroom was palpable, twelve executives watching me with bated breath, but I couldn't bring myself to care about the quarterly projections on the screen.
It had been five years since my sight returned. Five years of rebuilding the Devereux empire into the largest conglomerate in New York, yet everything felt colorless. Even the woman I was supposed to marry felt like a stranger.
Returning home to Camilla after my sight was restored had felt... wrong. The woman who supposedly stood by me in the dark, whose presence had been a soothing balm to my rage, now felt jagged.
Her skin didn't hum against mine, her touch felt foreign, lacking the warmth I remembered. For five years, I had held back, reluctant to take the final step of marriage because something essential was missing.
“I think Le Lumiere is the right place for the advertisement. Since it's the place that centered….”
Le Lumiere….
My mind drifted to the night I drove to Le Lumiere. The woman I had thrown out, my ex-wife, who had taken my car and driven it off a cliff six hours later. Her body was never found, but the wreckage at the edge of the river was enough to haunt the edges of my mind.
I wonder if I was too harsh on my judgement. What if I had given her the chance to explain?
"Sir?"
I looked up, the executives were still waiting.
"Dismissed," I said, waving a hand. "We'll reconvene when the acquisition numbers are realistic and think of a better location for the ad placement."
They scrambled out of the room, leaving me alone with Elias, my assistant, who stepped forward holding a tablet.
“You seemed a bit distracted today. Are you okay sir? Do I need to make an appointment with the doctor?”
I sighed, waving a hand. “No.”
Elias nodded. “Okay sir.”
“Get a call through and enquire if the Doctor has arrived.” I ordered, resting my head slightly on the swivel chair.
"Yes. I got a call that the specialist your cousin sent has landed since yesterday," Elias said, placing the device in front of me. "She’s checked into the Pierre even if confirmation hasn't been made yet if she is there. And, she’s already making waves. She apparently bought out an entire restaurant reservation just to feed her children lunch yesterday."
I picked up the tablet, my interest piqued only by the audacity. "She has children?"
"Twins, four years old,”
“I thought the file stated she's unmarried.”
“Yes sir. She’s unmarried."
I glanced at the screen, a candid photo showed a woman in a sharp white pantsuit, her hair cut in a severe bob, her grey eyes hidden behind sunglasses in one shot, but visible in the next.
I paused. Those eyes.
They were a striking, stormy grey. I felt a strange tug in my chest, a sense that I had seen those eyes before, but not in this light. In the photo, she looked poised, stern, and undeniably beautiful.
"Dr. Lia Solene," I read the name.
"She’s the one," Elias confirmed.
I stood up, buttoning my jacket. My mother’s condition was deteriorating, and all specialists invited recommended an expert. They all praised the woman who rose to the medical chart just in two years. “And she hasn't called yet?”
“No.”
“Not even the hospital?”
“No sir.”
“Why? Is she planning to use the entire day in settling? She's not here on vacation.” Now that was absurd. I should have been called already.
Elias said nothing.
"Cancel the afternoon schedule. We’re going to her."
“Yes sir.”
The drive to the hotel was quiet until Elias’s phone buzzed. He answered, listened for a moment, and then turned to me, his expression wary.
"Sir... that was the hospital."
"And?"
"Dr. Solene refused... she refused to operate immediately."
I turned slowly to look at him, frowning. "Refused?"
"She said Mrs. Devereux would have to wait."
A hot flare of anger surged through me. The audacity.
My mother was dying, and this doctor was playing games with her schedule?
"Drive faster," I ordered the driver, my voice lethal.
The car surged forward, weaving aggressively through the New York traffic. I was going to confront this woman, and remind her exactly who she was dealing with.
We took a sharp corner near the plaza, the tires screeching against the asphalt before suddenly slamming to a halt, jerking me against the seatbelt.
"What are you doing?" I roared.
"There was a kid, sir!"
I threw the door open and stormed out, adrenaline and rage mixing in my veins, but the shout died in my throat when I looked down.
A little boy stood inches from the bumper. He wasn't crying, he was glaring.
He looked up at me with a ferocity that stunned me, his small hands balled into fists. "Do you intend to kill me, Mister?"
I blinked, taken aback by the boy's boldness, but before I could answer, a little girl, identical to the boy but with softer features, came running up.
"Leo!" she grabbed his arm. "Why wouldn't you wait up!"
The little man, with extremely attractive blue eyes and black hair, pointed an angry finger at me. “This man has a very bad driver, Mia. If you hurt me, Mommy will kill you with her injections.”
The little lady raised her head, glancing at me with a relieved sigh. “Thank God you didn't hurt him.”
I squatted down to their level, amused by the threat. "And where is this mommy who would kill me with injections if you were hurt?"
"She's at the hospital," the girl said, pointing a small finger down the street. "We wanted ice cream.”
I looked at the ice cream shop across the street, then back at the two unsupervised children. My anger at the doctor was still simmering, but I couldn't leave them here.
"Come on," I grunted, taking their hands.
“Sir…”
Elias walked over, attempting to take their hands to relieve me, but I refused. He fell into step beside me, casting a strange, calculating look between the children and myself.
Minutes later, I was walking back toward the hospital entrance, the two children happily attacking the chocolate cones I had bought them.
"Where is your daddy?" I asked, watching the boy, Leo, wipe chocolate from his chin.
The girl, Mia, answered. "We don't have a daddy." She looked up at me, tilting her head. "But... would you be our daddy?"
I nearly stumbled. "Why would you ask that?"
"Because you're handsome," she stated matter-of-factly and I can't deny my lips twitching. She sure has good eyes and taste, but the next word made me halt. "And you have Leo's eyes."
Unlike her brother's blue eyes, she has stormy grey eyes, the only difference aside from their gender.
Elias cleared his throat, as if he had been wanting to say that. "Sir... she's right. The resemblance is... striking."
I looked at Leo, the boy glared back at me with that same piercing blue shade that every Devereux was born with. I shook the thought away.
"Mommy!"
Mia’s shout broke my train of thought.
I looked up to see a woman in a white suit sprinting toward us, her face pale with terror. She reached the children before I could react, dropping to her knees and pulling them into a fierce embrace.
"You scared me to death!" she breathed, her voice tight. "Never run off like that again!"
"The tall mister found us and bought us ice cream," Leo mumbled through his ice cream.
“Doctor Solene?” I called, the moment few people ran towards her. She met my eyes, not breaking off as if to challenge me.
“Yes, thank you for finding my children, Mister.”
The woman stiffened and took a breath, composing herself quickly, and stood up. She smoothed her jacket, her demeanor shifting from panicked mother to a relieved mother.
“Did you say thank you to him?” she asked, smiling at them.
“Yes mommy,” they chorused before Mia asked again, “But mommy, why does he have Leo's eyes?”
Her brow furrowed. “Who has Leo's eyes?”
She raised her head instantly, her eyes meeting mine.
Oh, she's the Doctor.
Her lips pursed for a moment the instance her eyes met mine and she stumbled backwards a little, before instantly composing herself.
“If you are the doctor,” I said, my voice dropping as the realization hit, ignoring her appreciation. “Tell me, why does my mother have to wait?”
Her lips pressed together. “I see, you're Mr. Devereux.” She paused, a little smile etching onto her face. I didn’t believe for a second that she didn’t know who I was, and it made me wonder if she was playing a game.
“Mrs. Devereux is stable,” she said, her voice cool and detached. "Her condition wasn't as severe as I was led to believe. I treat anyone that needs me urgently, Mr. Devereux. I don't prioritize based on status."
Her response was cold, but the timbre of her voice... it struck a chord deep in my memory, vibrating in my bones in a way that felt unsettlingly familiar.
She turned to leave. “If you will excuse me sir. Thank you again for finding my children.”
She was a few steps away when I remembered where I had heard that voice.
"Wait."
Before I could stop myself, I reached out, grabbing her wrist to stop her.
She whipped around, her eyes flashing with a sudden, intense loathing.
"Excuse you? Do you have to grab my wrist to get my attention? I could sue you for assault and harassment."
She yanked her arm free with a sharp tug. The movement caused the collar of her suit to shift to the side, my eyes unconsciously taking notice of the small, round mole on the side of her neck.
The world tilted and the noise of the street faded into a dull buzz as my gaze locked onto that mark. I had seen that mole five years ago, in the dim light of Le Lumiere, on the neck of the woman who had begged me to believe she was my wife. The same woman who was believed to be dead.
She saw my gaze drop to her neck and furiously adjusted her collar, before stepping back, clutching her children’s hands, and turning to walk away.
“Let's go, kids.”
My lips moved faster than my mind, and the name forced itself out of my throat.
“Idalia?”