Chapter Seven
One week later
I pressed my forehead to the cool glass of the Bentley, closing my eyes and drawing a deep breath.
It was happening.
My wishes were coming true.
Mum was here with me, about to check into Northeastern General Hospital for the dementia treatment program.
I didn’t know how Tate made it happen, and I preferred not to ask. Knowing would consume me with guilt.
“Hey, you.” I squeezed her hand in mine, ripping my gaze from the window. I no longer called her Mum. It triggered her, since she didn’t recognize me. “How’re you feeling?”
My mother stared out the window, appearing to be lost in her own thoughts. I gently rubbed the inside of her pale palm, which seemed to snap her back into reality. She turned to look at me, face blank and puzzled.
“Oh, it’s you again. You seem to be everywhere these days, don’t you, Georgia?” A lax smile stretched across her lips.
Gia, Mum. My name is Gia.
My heart shriveled and curled inside my chest like a kicked puppy.
My mother was a striking woman who took a lot of pride in her looks. She used to wear silky, colorful dresses and handmade earrings and an eternal, dazzling smile. Her makeup was bold and her perfumes heady.
She was only fifty-five. Even though she seldom remembered me, I made sure to always dress her in her favorite attire and do her makeup before we left the house so that she could at least remember herself.
“It’s Gia.” I smiled patiently, dying from the inside.
“Of course. Yes. Gia. Pretty name. Who are you again?” She slurred slightly. “Charles’s daughter, right? From church? My, how you’ve grown. Such a beauty. How is he doing these days?”
I swallowed but didn’t correct her. Losing a parent in a car accident had been brutal for me, but losing a parent to dementia at such a young age was worse—she was still here but not present.
Dr. Picard’s warning swirled in my head, running circles like an unruly child.
“Forget about that program, Gia. I only mentioned it anecdotally. Your mother isn’t doing well enough to participate. Once a brain cell dies, it cannot be revived. The program was designed for intermediate patients.”
I didn’t listen.
I never listened when it came to my family.
I’d burn the world twice over if it meant I had the slightest chance of getting my mother back.
“Charles is doing well,” I said finally.
Charles had been dead for three years now, but there was no need to upset her with a detail she’d forget all about in less than three minutes.
“Good, goo—oh, this place is marvelous. Where are we?” Mum blinked at the window as we slid from Newark and into Manhattan. The hospital was conveniently located in the city, not far from GS Properties’ headquarters. “Sky-high buildings. Is this East London? I want to see the Gherkin.”
“We’re in New York.” I licked my lips nervously. “You are going to a hospital where they will treat you for your…exhaustion.” I forced myself to remain perky. “I’ll come visit every day. It’s going to be great.”
She turned to look at me again. This time, it wasn’t puzzlement that painted her face. It was weariness. Terror. A rare moment of clarity. “I am dying, aren’t I?”
Yes. And I am terrified of letting go.
“Why would you say that?” I mustered a weak smile.
“Everything hurts,” she garbled. “My body. My soul. I can feel it. I am…” She paused. “I am gone.”
Excruciating pain flowed through me. I couldn’t remember the last time my mother was in touch with the present. “You’ll be just fine,” I said sternly. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“Does my husband know?” She shifted restlessly in her seat. “Why isn’t Lloyd here?”
“You’ll meet Da… Lloyd soon.”
But not too soon, if my efforts were fruitful.
“I want my husband. Now.”
“Don’t worry,” I tried to soothe her. “I’ll call—”
“Now!” She growled, reaching for the door handle of the back seat, yanking it midride. The door flew open, and I tackled her, my seat belt slashing through my sternum, to slam it shut.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Iven, Tate’s driver in New York, smashed the brake with a snarl, causing the cars behind us to swirl and honk. “Christ, you need to handle your mother, Gia.”
“I’m not her mother!” Mum exclaimed, reaching for the door handle once more, trying to jump out of the moving car.
“Restrain her!” Iven panicked, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Or we’ll get into a car accident.”
I had no choice. I unbuckled myself, scooting toward Mum, and gathered her wrists in my hands. She struggled, trying to push me away, but I was stronger.
She tried to kick me, push me. I dodged while Dr. Picard’s words echoed between my ears.
“You should focus on comfort care. Her systems are shutting down. To stop this, you’ll need a miracle.”
Oh, but I had a miracle.
I had the richest man in the world at my disposal.
My tormentor. My punishment. My future husband.
I had Tate Blackthorn.
Once we reached the hospital, Iven helped me usher Mum to the front desk.
She was exhausted and back to her normal, empty-shell state.
We were greeted by a reluctant staff, which made me wonder how exactly Tate had managed to secure us this spot. A doctor and a nurse showed us to Mum’s private room.
Dr. Stultz explained that a unique combination of cutting-edge medicine and physical and mental therapy would hopefully assist my mother in reversing her symptoms back to mild dementia.
I allowed myself a small sliver of hope even as I assisted her in walking, hoping no one noticed how lethargic and frail she was.
As soon as we reached her room, Mum collapsed onto a bed and slipped into deep slumber. The doctor left, but the nurse stayed, watching me through distrustful eyes.
I busied myself with fretting around Mum’s snoring frame.
I unpacked her suitcase, put her toiletries and clothes away, and took a tour of the facilities. I had reached the cafeteria, realizing I hadn’t eaten all day, when a stern voice behind me made me jump.
“How often do you plan on visiting her?”
I spun around. It was Dr. Stultz, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Every day.”
He nodded curtly. “Follow me, Miss Bennett. I’ll show you around.”
I did, falling into step with the middle-aged doctor in a white lab coat. The hallway was vast and full of paintings donated by philanthropists.
“I’m surprised we’ll see you so often.” The neurologist eyed me midstride. “I’d think you’d take at least a little time off, what with your close approaching nuptials.”
I stumbled over my sensible Mary Janes, flying forward and almost sailing straight across the floor. Luckily, I grabbed the wall quickly.
“H-how do you know about my engagement?”
I’d tried my best to ignore my arrangement with Tate this past week.
“Your fiancé came over to assess the amenities yesterday,” he explained. “He seemed…”
Domineering? Merciless? Deranged?
“Intense.” Dr. Stultz’s mouth ticked with a nervous smile.
I had no idea why Tate visited here—it wasn’t on our shared Google schedule—but I was certain it had nothing to do with my mother’s well-being and everything to do with ensuring his future mother-in-law would get the biggest room and the nurse with the biggest tits. He was obnoxiously materialistic.
Nonetheless, a deal was a deal. To access this facility, this program, this opportunity, I had to play the doting fiancée.
“Tate can come off as a bit officious.” I smiled cordially. “I apologize for any discomfort he may have caused. If you ever need anything, please reach ou—”
My phone vibrated in my hand. Speak of the devil .
My boss was calling, probably wanting to scream at me for filling his Stanley cup with Smartwater this morning rather than Volcanic.
Dr. Stultz glimpsed at the source of the sound, catching Tate’s name on the screen. I cleared my throat and pressed it to my ear.
“Yes, er…darling?” I cringed.
“We have a meeting with Mayfair Bank in twenty minutes, and you’re still not here.” He paused. “Did you just darling me?”
I laughed uncomfortably. He wasn’t on speaker, but I couldn’t know for sure Dr. Stultz hadn’t heard him. “Yes, of course. What else would I call you?”
“The bane of your existence,” he supplied grimly. “Gru. Satan’s favorite child. Cruello de Vil. Ernesto de la Cunt. To name a few from this month alone.”
“Are you reading my emails?” My fake smile collapsed. I had never called him these names to his face. I did , however, let out some steam in a chain email thread with my college friends Alix and Sadie. Emails he wasn’t supposed to be privy to.
“It’s my favorite literary genre,” he replied unapologetically.
“As for your speculation—no, I don’t have a small dick, deflowering virgins is not my favorite sport, and I do not strangle puppies recreationally.
” There was a pause. “The part about taking that Victoria’s Secret model as a lover to rile up her husband only because he is a bad musician is true, though.
To be fair, his stupid songs were played on the radio the entire year, haunting me.
It was reasonable to seek revenge. I’m only human, after all. ”
“This is a breach of my privacy.”
I was so cross with him I could barely breathe. Dr. Stultz’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.
“No such thing between a husband and wife. Where are you?”
“At Mum’s hospital.” I knew better than to hope this would make my future husband more understanding.
“Good,” he said drily. “If you start running now, you’ll make it to the meeting in time.”
“I’m speaking to her doctor,” I protested, my anger rising in a cloud of heat, settling on my cheeks.
“Her doctor can wait. This meeting can’t. Oh, and, Gia?”
At least he’d stopped calling me Miss Bennett. Glass half-full.
With cyanide, but still.
“What?” I gritted out.
“Don’t forget my coffee on your way here.”
I pushed open the doors to the conference room, holding his precious coffee.
Black, like his soul.
The place was empty other than Tate. He wore a charcoal herringbone three-piece suit with a black turtleneck and looked like pure dopamine poured straight into my veins.