Chapter 90

Chapter 90
Spending the night in a hospital bed wasn’t the most comfortable experience of Neema’s life. Not even when the bed was in a private room reserved for high-paying patients. Still, Neema tried not to complain too much about it. 

Initially, she’d thought she would be released as soon as her ankle was bundled up, but a doctor had insisted she should be observed for a night after she reacted to the pain medication prescribed to her. 

So now Neema lay in the bed, eyes closed as her sleep-fogged brain tried to comprehend what had woken her up. 

For a moment, everything seemed okay. Or at least nothing had changed from the last time her eyes had been open. The steady beep of the heart monitor hummed softly in the hospital room. The scent of disinfectant hung faintly in the air, mixed with the sterile chill of air-conditioning and the faint trace of lilies from the bouquet Isaiah had dropped off earlier. Neema stirred, shifting slightly in the crisp white sheets, the dull ache in her ankle reminding her of why she was here. As if she could forget.

Then she heard it, Quinton’s low voice. It was deep, quiet, and careful. Neema blinked the sleep from her eyes, her heart softening at the sight of him. Bathed in the soft light from the single lamp that had been left on, she saw that he was sitting on the armchair beside her bed, turned away slightly, his phone pressed to his ear.

He had managed to take a shower and change his clothes since they’d gotten to the hospital and now wore a navy blue button-down with his shirt sleeves rolled up, a dark stubble shadowing his jaw. Even from this angle, Neema could tell that he looked exhausted, but his tone carried a tenderness that caught her attention.

“Why are you still awake? It’s late,” he murmured into the phone.

For a beat, the air in Neema’s chest froze as she wondered who he was talking to. An ugly fear reared its head as the thought of another woman popped into her mind, but she quickly shook it away. Surely the man wouldn’t talk to another woman while she slept in a hospital bed next to him. Besides, she quickly reminded herself that Quinton hadn’t had anything serious with anyone until she came along. 

However, despite all her reasoning, it didn’t stop Neema from straining to try to hear the person on the other end of the call. Unfortunately for her, though, the voice was too low.

Neema frowned, her curiosity stirring.

Quinton’s expression shifted, his brows knitting tightly as he listened. “Wait… What do you mean she’s not home?” His tone rose slightly, tense now. “Nevaeh, are you telling me your mom left you alone?”

At the mention of the little girl’s name, relief washed over Neema even as something else surfaced. 

“Why would she leave you alone and with no food? What time did she leave? Where the hell did she go?” Quinton’s voice grew sharper. He pinched the bridge of his nose, standing abruptly to pace across the larger-than-normal hospital room. “Look, sweetheart, I need you to listen to me carefully. Lock the door. Do you hear me? Don’t open it for anyone.”

Neema sat up slowly, the sheets rustling as she adjusted her position. She could practically hear the fury in his voice mixed in with the tremor of worry.

“Good. Now, turn on the TV… I don’t care what your mom said about TV rules, just turn it on so you’re not scared, okay?” His tone softened slightly. “Just give me a minute, I’m gonna fix this. You’re gonna be okay.”

There was a pause. Then Quinton exhaled, his shoulders sagging. “I love you too, honey. Hold on one second for me, okay? Don’t hang up.”

He pressed something on his phone-probably muting the call, turned, and then froze when he saw Neema awake, watching him.

“Neema,” he said quietly, lowering the phone slightly. “Hey… I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She shook her head, voice still husky from sleep. “It’s okay. What’s going on?”

Quinton hesitated, looking torn like he wasn’t sure he wanted to involve her in whatever was happening. Neema tried not to be hurt by that. Tried and failed. Finally, he sighed. “It’s Nevaeh. Jacqueline left her home alone. No food and no one to watch her.”

Neema’s heart sank. “She’s six, right?” she asked, remembering the little girl she’d met the first time she showed up at Quinton’s house with plans of seducing the CEO.

He nodded tightly. “Yeah. Six. And apparently, she’s been alone since this afternoon.” His jaw clenched, anger flickering across his face. “What kind of mother leaves a child alone like that?”

“She’s alone right now?” Neema asked, still trying to piece together what was happening.

“Yes.” He rubbed a hand across his face, frustration crackling through him. “I want to go to her, but…” He trailed off, his gaze hardening. “Jacqueline has already threatened me. If I intervene in the child’s life in a way she doesn’t like, she’ll cut me out of Nevaeh’s life for good.”

Neema frowned. “She can’t legally do that, can she?”

“Oh, she can,” Quinton muttered. His jaw tightened, and Neema feared for his teeth as he added. “I don’t have any real legal standing to fight her on if she did. And she’s unpredictable when she’s angry. I can’t risk her using Nevaeh as leverage again.”

The helplessness in his tone pulled at Neema’s chest. She reached out, resting her hand lightly over his. “There has to be something you can do.”

He stared down at her hand for a moment, silent. Then Neema spoke again, her mind already racing. “What if… You didn’t go yourself?”

He looked at her, confused.

Neema quickly rushed on to explain the idea forming in her head. “In short, you are saying you can’t directly involve yourself in anything, right?” she said carefully. “So what if you send someone else… With food. Someone to stay nearby and watch over the house and Nevaeh until she gets back? Or maybe call child welfare. That’s abandonment, Quinton.”

Quinton just stared at her, a deep frown forming between his brows, but he was thinking. He was weighing the solution and trying to predict every possible outcome.

“It’s not about getting her in trouble,” Neema said gently. “It’s about making sure Nevaeh’s safe.”

He exhaled and nodded slowly. “You’re right. I could send someone. But the call to child welfare… If Jacqueline finds out it was me-”

“Then don’t call yourself,” Neema said quickly. “Have Isaiah handle it. He’s discreet. It can be an anonymous call from a concerned neighbor.”

Quinton glanced at her in awe, then smiled faintly despite his worry. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“Just practical,” she said with a small shrug.

Seemingly satisfied with the solution presented to him, he turned back to his phone. Quinton pressed it and said softly, “Nevaeh, honey, I’m going to send someone with dinner, okay? You stay inside and don’t open the door for anyone until he tells you it’s safe. I love you. You’re doing great. Don’t worry.”

Neema watched him, mesmerized by this caring, protective side of the man. It was beautiful, but it was also worrying because it highlighted what Neema had been trying to ignore.