Chapter 145 Fix the crack
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I sit in the waiting room, legs crossed, scrolling lazily through my phone. The hum of the air conditioner fills the silence, and I find myself smiling—actually smiling—for the first time in weeks.
How strange, finding comfort in torment.
Tormenting Hermes.
Tormenting her.
I hum softly, pretending to read the news, but really, I’m savoring the memory of June’s face this afternoon—how she froze when I told her she’d be handling my gala dresses. Watching her bite down her discomfort like a good little intern. That’s the only thing that soothes me these days.
Because the truth is, I'm extremely upset. Hermes doesn’t even look at me anymore. He hasn't still forgiven me, and I see the way he looks at her.
He could burn the world for that girl.
Damnit. To hell with them.
I will now burn him, and her.
I press my lips together, laugh under my breath. "Blackmailing is fun," I whisper to myself.
The receptionist glances my way— polite—and says, "Miss Voss? The doctor will see you now."
I nod, slipping my phone into my purse, smoothing my blouse as if nothing wicked has ever crossed my mind.
When I step into the office, the smell of antiseptic hits first, clean and sharp. Ted looks up from his desk, half-smiling like always.
"Miss Voss," he greets. "Or should I say, the future Mrs. Grande?"
I smile sweetly, closing the door behind me. "Please, Ted. Don’t make me blush."
I settle back into the chair, crossing my legs gracefully, letting my fingers drum lightly against the armrest.
Ted leans back slightly, studying me like he’s measuring my patience. "I had been anticipating your personal visit," he says carefully, "but I didn’t expect it would be at my workplace."
I laugh, light and airy. "Well, I was in the area," I say, tilting my head, "so I decided to stop by. We didn’t get a chance to chat properly the day Hermes was rushed here."
He nods, lips twitching in a faint smile. "Well, you could have waited until my shift was done so we could have grabbed a drink."
I smile wider, letting the compliment roll off me. "Ted, you really haven’t changed. Out of all three of you, I’ve always felt fond of you the most."
His brows pinch together, lips twitching further. "Really?" he says, amusement tugging at the corners. "I thought it was Gavin."
I almost scoff. Of course he’s combing through my bullshit. Still the same rigid, nerdy, inflexible Ted.
I rise from the chair and stroll casually toward his board of certifications, letting my fingers graze over the plaques and framed degrees.
"You know," I say softly, "I never expected you’d become a real doctor. I knew you were in med school, but I thought you’d quit eventually—like Hermes—and join your family business."
He smiles lightly, removing his glasses. "Well… things worked out for both Hermes and me, even though we took different paths."
I bite my lip, hiding the frustration creeping in. There’s no opening here. He’s a closed book. I can’t ask what I came for without being cautious. Any slip, and Hermes might hear.
"Yeah," I hum softly, masking the impatience rising in me.
A beat of silence stretches, thick and tense. Then Ted’s voice cuts through, soft, deliberate:
"What do you really want, Nat? If you just wanted to catch up, you wouldn’t be here, in my office. So… let it out now."
I chuckle under my breath, letting a sly grin touch my lips. Finally — a crack.
I saunter back to my seat, letting the chair engulf me as I lean forward slightly, letting my eyes flicker with just enough warmth to keep him guessing.
This is it, I think. Time to see how much I can get without spilling the truth…
My fingers brush over the edge of the desk as I speak. "Ted… Hermes has been acting strange since he was rushed here."
Ted crosses his fingers, his expression suddenly serious, and he fixes me with a sharp look. "Explain further," he says, voice measured.
I tilt my head, pretending to casual, though my mind races. "The other day… I asked him to fetch something at the house. Something small, nothing important. But he… forgot. Completely. And it wasn’t just that one time. It’s happened before — on many occasions."
I pause, watching him carefully. "I don’t know if he hit his head too hard that day or if it’s something else…" My tone is soft, concerned, but there’s a note of challenge in it.
Ted sighs under his breath, looking away from me. The slight shift of his gaze, the tightening around his eyes, tells me more than his words ever could. He’s hiding something about Hermes.
I sense it immediately.
I lean back slightly, letting a small, calculating smile curve my lips. "Ted… I’m getting married to him in a few days," I say, my voice steady, almost gentle. "I deserve to know if something is wrong with Hermes. Not just for me… but for him too."
I watch him carefully, letting the words sink in. My heartbeat quickens, but I keep it calm on the surface. Let him feel the pressure. Let him know I see the cracks — and I’m not about to let them go unnoticed.
He hesitates — just the tiniest blink — and I don’t let him off the hook. I slip my hands across the desk and take his, light and sure. "You and I know Hermes," I say, soft as silk. "He hides things. Important things. From people who love him. If you know something, you should tell me. That’s the only way I can help him."
Tobias exhales slowly, the professional wall cracking. "Alright." His voice is careful. "I shouldn’t tell you because of doctor–patient confidentiality, but this is Hermes…and you’re getting married to him soon." He pauses, as if weighing whether to keep the next part to himself.
"Okay," I say, the edge in my voice sharpening. I’m impatient now; every second feels like a countdown.
He leans forward, rubbing his temples, then gives my hand a quick squeeze before he speaks. "He’s suffering from a form of short-term memory lapse. It’s neurological — he’s losing recent memories. He’s on medication and we’re monitoring him, but it’s… ongoing. He’ll need reminders, time, proper treatment. He can get better, but it won’t be instant."
My eyes widen on cue, shock painted across my face. "Recent memory loss? How recent are we talking about?"
Tobias tilts his head, thoughtful. "Yesterday, a year, maybe two — it’s hard to pin down yet. We’re still watching the pattern." He looks at me, earnest. "Please, Nat. Hermes asked me not to tell anyone, but I’m telling you because I believe you have his best interests at heart. Help him fix the cracks. Remind him to take his meds. Keep him steady."
I nod, silent for a beat as his words sink in. On the surface I look concerned, grateful even. Inside, my thoughts are a cold, bright thing. This is an opening. This is leverage.
He might forget June. He might forget things he’s done. He might become pliable — a man who can be guided, softened, shaped. The thought gives me a thrill I won’t admit to out loud.
"Oh my," I breathe then, voice lilting with false pity. "My poor Hermes. Don’t worry, I’ll do as you ask. Thank you for telling me."
I withdraw my hand, smile sweet and measured, and let him believe he’s confided in the right person.
As soon as I step out of the hospital, the sun hits my face — blinding, warm, intrusive. I slide into the car, close the door, and breathe. The air-conditioning hums softly as I pull out my phone, already imagining my father’s reaction when I tell him the news about Hermes. He’ll be thrilled. Finally, something that works in our favor.
The phone rings before I can even dial him. "Father," I say, a little too eagerly.
But he doesn’t let me speak. His voice comes low and clipped, like he’s already in the middle of something. "Natalya, listen carefully. You’ll go into your uncle Lucien’s study tonight. There’s a file in the steel cabinet by the far wall. Second drawer from the top. The access code is 7-3-2-9-0."
I blink, caught off guard. "A file? What file?"
"Don’t ask questions," he cuts in sharply. "Just do it. And make sure Hermes doesn't see you."
I press my lips together, a mix of confusion and irritation twisting in my chest. "What are you planning to do with it?"
"Do as I say, Natalya," he snaps, then the line goes dead.
The car is silent now except for the low purr of the engine. I stare at the phone in my hand, the reflection of my own face staring back from the black screen — cold, calculating, uncertain.
He’s hiding something again.
I tilt my head, lips curling into a faint smirk. Maybe I’ll find that file — but whether I give it to him or not… depends on what’s inside.
For once, maybe he’s the one who doesn’t need to know everything.