Chapter 6 - The Hospital Suite
The private VIP wing of St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital was a world away from the crowded, noisy general wards where my mother had spent the last week. The room was spacious, smelling of fresh lilies and polished oak, equipped with state-of-the-art vital monitors and a private balcony overlooking the city skyline.
When I pushed open the door, my mother was sitting up in a motorized reclining bed, wearing a plush silk bathrobe that the hospital director had personally provided. A private nutritionist was arranging a tray of gourmet organic meals on a bedside table.
“Daniel,” my mother said, her eyes wide as she looked around the opulent room. “Son... what is all this? The head nurse told me we’ve been upgraded to the presidential suite. They even brought in a private nursing staff. This must cost a fortune!”
I walked over, smiling gently, and kissed her forehead. “Don't worry about the cost, Mom. Remember the patent I was working on in the garage? The one Vanessa and your neighbors always mocked me for?”
She nodded slowly, her expression softening. “I remember. You spent all your nights down there, coughing from the solder fumes, refusing to give up even when we couldn't pay the electricity bill.”
“Well, it sold,” I said, sitting down beside her and taking her hand. “Halcyon Medical Technologies bought the exclusive rights. We’re financially secure now, Mom. Forever. You never have to worry about rent, or groceries, or medical bills again.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she squeezed my hand with surprising strength. “I always knew you were brilliant, Daniel. Even when your father passed... I knew you had his stubbornness and his heart. But... what about Vanessa? Does she know?”
At the mention of her name, the door to the suite clicked open. The hospital director, Dr. Evans, stepped in, accompanied by two armed security guards who were escorting a disheveled, frantic figure.
I turned my head. My breath caught in my throat for a fraction of a second.
It was Vanessa.
She looked utterly unrecognizable compared to the immaculate, arrogant bank manager who had torn up my check less than forty-eight hours ago. Her designer navy suit was wrinkled and stained at the hem. Her hair was messy, falling loosely around her pale, sunken face. Her makeup was completely ruined, dark circles bruising the skin beneath her bloodshot eyes.
She had bypassed security by begging at the hospital entrance, claiming she was my wife—my grieving, desperate wife—seeking reconciliation.
When her eyes landed on me, standing tall in my custom Tom Ford suit inside the luxurious presidential suite, her knees buckled. She caught herself against the doorframe, her chest heaving.
“Daniel...” she whispered, her voice cracking into a ragged, pathetic sob. “Daniel, please... you have to help me.”
My mother gasped, pulling the blanket tighter around her chest as she stared at the woman who had tormented our family.
“Vanessa?” my mother whispered, her voice trembling with indignation. “What are you doing here? How dare you show your face after what you did?”
Vanessa didn't look at my mother. She ignored her entirely, stumbling across the plush carpet toward me, falling to her knees right beside my chair. She reached out with trembling, filthy fingers to grab the hem of my trousers.
“Daniel, please,” she wailed, tears streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks. “I lost everything. They fired me. They seized my apartment, my car, my bank accounts—everything! Richard dumped me on the street like trash. I have nothing left, Daniel. Absolutely nothing!”
I looked down at her, my expression completely devoid of warmth or pity. I felt nothing—not even anger. Just cold, absolute detachment.
“Two years ago,” I said quietly, my voice cutting through her hysterical cries, “when you emptied our joint account, threw my prototype into the dumpster, and told the judge I was a worthless beggar—did you care about what happened to me?”
Vanessa sobbed harder, pressing her forehead against the polished leather of my shoe. “I was stupid! I was arrogant! I listened to Richard! I thought you were a failure, Daniel! But we were married! We had history!”
“History?” I chuckled, a cold, humorless sound. “You filed for divorce on my birthday, Vanessa. You laughed while your lawyer mocked my engineering degree. And forty-eight hours ago, you didn't just insult me—you tore up my mother’s medical deposit check and tried to have me arrested while she was fighting for her life in a county ward.”
“I didn't know!” she shrieked, clutching my ankles tighter. “If I had known you were rich—if I had known you owned Halcyon Medical—I would never—”
“That’s the exact problem, Vanessa,” I interrupted, stepping back and pulling my leg free from her grip, causing her to collapse onto the carpet. “You only judge a person's worth by their bank account, their title, and what they can do for you. You are poison.”
Dr. Evans stepped forward, nodding to the security guards. “Mr. Mercer, shall I have her removed from the premises? She has no legal right to be in this restricted wing.”
“Yes, Director Evans,” I said calmly, turning my back on my ex-wife. “Escort her out. And make sure the hospital security ban her from ever stepping foot on St. Jude’s property again.”
May you like
“No! Daniel, please! Don't do this!” Vanessa screamed as the two guards grabbed her under the arms, hauling her upright as she kicked and thrashed hysterically. “You can't do this to me! I'm your wife! I'm your wife!”
“Not anymore,” I said softly as the heavy oak doors closed, cutting off her agonizing shrieks for the final time.
