The nurse suggested softly, “Why don’t you speak with Mr. Winters? He might not even know your mother’s condition has worsened.”
I spun on my heel and hurried toward the elevator, each step a stab of agony through my injured knee, as if I were walking on blades.
Outside the VIP ward, I found Zachary standing guard like a tiny sentry.
“Mom? What are you doing here?” His eyes widened in surprise before narrowing in suspicion. “You’re not here to hurt Aunt Julia again, are you? I’m warning you—if you try, I won’t let you!”
I brushed past him without answering, shoving the door open.
Inside, Alan sat at Julia’s bedside, cradling her hand as he carefully fed her water from a cup.
My voice cracked. “Send my mother’s attending physician back to her immediately. She needs surgery—right now!”
Julia coughed lightly, just twice, her voice trembling with perfect fragility. “It’s my fault. I must have caused all this. Alan… maybe you should go check on her.”
Alan finally looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Nina, what now? Your mother’s been fine for five years, and suddenly the moment Julia’s admitted to the hospital, she’s at death’s door?”
“I’m not exaggerating!” My forehead throbbed, each pulse sharp as a blade, and my tears spilled freely. “Please—just give my mother’s doctor back to her. She’s in critical condition and needs surgery immediately!”
“Enough!” Zachary lunged at me, shoving me hard. “Don’t delay Aunt Julia’s treatment!”
Alan rose, placing a protective hand on Zachary’s shoulder, his gaze turning icy. “Do you think I can’t see through you?”
He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Julia’s competing in the Kirk Cup next week, and you want to sabotage her. You’d even use your own mother to pull this stunt? How vile can you be?”
“I’m telling the truth!” My voice broke, desperation flooding every word.
My phone rang sharply. It was the nurse. I answered quickly, holding it out toward Alan. “If you don’t believe me, listen to her yourself.”
But he didn’t even look at the phone. “I don’t have time for your pathetic games. Get out. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Get out!” Zachary echoed, pushing at me again.
Julia coughed delicately, perfectly on cue. Both of them rushed to her side, their attention sealing shut like a locked door.
No one spared me another glance.
I crouched down slowly, gathering my phone with its cracked, glittering screen and pressing it to my ear.
In my blurred vision, Alan was brushing a strand of hair from Julia’s forehead with tender care. Zachary knelt beside her bed, offering her a drink with both his small hands.
In my ear, the nurse’s voice came faint and tremulous. “Ms. Ranford… we did everything we could. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Four long days followed—days spent entirely alone, arranging my mother’s funeral.
Alan never called once. Julia, however, sent a steady stream of messages—little photographs and updates meant to cut deep.
Alan is applying ointment to her small calf wound.
Zachary peeling an apple for her with exaggerated concentration.
The three of them were smiling together over dinner.
And finally…, a picture of Alan asleep beside her pillow.
At my mother’s grave, I knelt and traced my fingers over the photo of her smiling face etched into the tombstone. “Mom… I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“I was blind—too blind to see the truth about the man beside me.”
When I walked away, I pulled my wedding ring from my finger and tossed it into a roadside trash bin without looking back.
Mom, tomorrow I’m leaving.
I don’t want Alan.
I don’t want Zachary.
I don’t want any of them anymore.
