Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
Chloe
You’re a bad mother.
You’re endangering your son.
Finish it. Go away.
“You go away,” I sobbed. The windshield wipers were at maximum speed while the Ford sedan plowed through the sheets of rain. I jumped every time a skeleton of lightning split the sky. The pounding in my chest competed with the voices in my head.
They started a few days ago.
A whisper of doubt here.
A chiding voice of my shortcomings as Sebastian’s mother there.
A mocking laugh.
Therapy didn’t do shit. My desperate thoughts worsened.
Finding out Kolya might have been promised to another, unmoored my growing attachment to him and left me floundering.
Everything I’d built myself up to be so I didn’t suffer the same fate as Renée, crashed and burned.
I ended up in the same place. I thought I could move past being an illegitimate daughter.
My son almost died.
Because I was his mother.
I was unworthy.
And I didn’t even know what happened. Did I black out? I was eating dinner. I had never eaten grapes in front of Sebastian.
You shouldn’t have bought them in the first place. They’re choking hazards.
I was losing my damned mind, wasn’t I? Rain lashed down around me, imprisoning me with condemning voices.
Maybe you’re in a dream? the voice taunted.
How sure are you this is real? You’re scared of storms. Why are you in it?
“I had to get away!”
From Sebastian? From Kolya?
You’re a bad mother.
Face it. Admit it.
“I’m trying!” I yelled. “And I’m not.”
Yes, you are, Chloe. You left Sebastian for three months.
“It was for his safety!”
And now this.
Kolya is a better parent.
Sebastian will be safe with him.
You’re only in the way.
You’re a bad mother.
You’re a bad mother.
You’re a bad mother.
I am a bad mother.
I drove aimlessly, alternately screaming and yelling at the words taunting me.
In that one therapy session, I’d been afraid to admit it.
I was afraid they were going to commit me and take my son away.
I was frightened that it would progress to visual hallucinations.
The first time I heard the voice, I started googling the condition.
Auditory hallucinations can be a psychosis.
Was I becoming schizophrenic? I had a half brother who was a suspected serial killer, and I didn’t know Theo well enough to know if he had psychological issues. I couldn’t be a sociopath, right?
How about your blackouts? Maybe you have an alter ego, the voice suggested.
I’d had instances where I’d lost track of time. More so recently. I’d been doing so well since the storm when I told Kolya about the reason Renée and I split up. The news of Theo and Aralina’s engagement triggered my restlessness again.
They were getting married in two weeks. And then what? Where was my place in the world?
Kolya accused me of endangering our son.
Sebastian was choking.
On a grape.
Fuck you, Chloe. Our son is not safe with you.
You’re a danger to your son.
You don’t deserve to be his mother.
The storm eased into rolling grumblings of thunder. The rain splattered more peacefully on the windshield. The sky wasn’t as threatening. The wipers were still whisking furiously, making squeaky noises telling me to reduce their speed.
I blinked. Where am I?
Shit.
How did I get here?
I blacked out.
Again.
I waited for the voice in my head to make commentary, but it didn’t.
In front of me stood The Astorian. A wellness center owned by the pharmaceutical subsidiary of King Industries. I’d never been in there to check on my half brother. Theo didn’t encourage it either and was tight-lipped about Jeremiah’s recovery.
But I needed to know if he killed my mother.
Theo promised he would look into Jeremiah’s files, but that was wishful thinking because he’d been under siege ever since.
But I had time. I had to know.
I lowered the visor mirror and checked my face.
Even with no identification on me, it was worth a try.
I shifted the gear of the car and approached the guardhouse.
On paper, The Astorian was a rehabilitation/therapy center for the ultra-rich.
Information was sparse online. I only found out about it when I was staying with the De Luccis and Trevor dug up information for me on Esther King.
A security guard stepped out of the guardhouse. “Ma’am, this is a private facility.”
I smiled tentatively at him. “I’m aware. I’m Chloe King and I’m here to seek sanctuary.”
Okay, sanctuary sounded dramatic, but I was desperate.
His eyes widened before he peered closer. Recognition replaced the no-nonsense expression he wore earlier, and he had trouble articulating words for a few seconds. “May I see your identification, ma’am?”
“I don’t have any on me. I escaped a situation, and this was the closest place I could feel safe. I don’t have a phone to call my brother. But you can have someone call Theodore King.”
I felt it was time to deal with this part of my past. The guard was an older gentleman. His beard was mostly white, but his hair was dark and streaked with gray. He was around fifty or sixty. But hopefully, he’d feel parental and protective.
“Can I take a photo to send to our facility manager?”
“Yes.”
I glanced over my shoulder while anxiety fizzed through my veins, wondering if Kolya would track me. I didn’t want to face him. The condemnation in his eyes slayed, and I wanted to die. If it wasn’t for Dora, I would have taken the kitchen knife and slit my wrists.
Wait.
Why would I do that?
Why would I kill myself a few feet away from my son? I don’t want that for him. What am I thinking?
I stared at the institution in front of me. I would ask Theo to admit me there. I needed help. But needing help meant I wanted to get better.
At this moment, I did.
But earlier? I had felt so hopeless. I didn’t understand it.
“Miss King?” the guard addressed me.
Dazedly, I glanced up at him. I was so exhausted.
“You may go through. Nurse Nolan will meet you in front.”
I drove Dora’s car up the circular driveway. I’d never made it this far in my attempts to see Jeremiah. Theo said my name was already on the list of visitors in Jeremiah’s file, but I couldn’t see him on my own.
“Miss King.”
Nurse Nolan reminded me of Marena. Maybe it was her polished look with hair curled around an elaborate updo. She wasn’t wearing scrubs, but a mint-green uniform reminiscent of the 1950s nurse uniforms in design.
“You can leave the car here, and someone will take care of it,” she said.
A male nurse dressed in scrubs rushed down the steps and handed Nurse Nolan the phone. “Finally got ahold of Mr. King. He wants to talk to Miss King.”
She nodded and thanked the nurse, who shot me a friendly smile.
“Mr. King. Yes, I have her.” She paused, studied me briefly, before handing me the phone.
I slowed my pace on the stairs. “Theo.”
“Chloe, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“What happened? I noticed a call from Kolya. What did that bastard do?”
“It was me.” Then my eyes grew hot and I couldn’t speak articulately through the tears. “It was me.”
“I’m coming right over, all right?”
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Chloe, listen to me. Hang in there. Stay right there. I’m coming.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Chloe?” he prodded.
“Yes, I’ll wait.”
“Good girl.”
I imagined Theo’s sigh of relief. I hated, hated being so much trouble. But these past few days felt like my head was underwater and a boulder was weighing me down, and I didn’t understand why.
“Please hand the phone back to Nurse Nolan.”
She led me into an office with the phone to her ear before walking out. The closing of the door unnerved me. I went to it and tested the knob. She didn’t lock me in. I exhaled a breath that didn’t quite empty my lungs because anxiety kept my insides pressurized.
I studied the surroundings. Framed photographs of the staff hung on the wall. Black and white. Vintage photographs showing that this had been an institution for decades.
Twenty minutes had passed, and I got restless. I tentatively opened the door and peeked out. The halls were empty. It was also quiet. It must be curfew. I didn’t know what time it was, probably ten p.m.
Theo told me Jeremiah was on the first floor when one of his assistants interrupted our meeting with an urgent message about room 1012. I remembered that day, a week after the arbitration.
Theo stared at me. “Wait here.”
He made a private call and returned shortly. “That’s the hospital.” A beat of silence full of hesitation. “Jeremiah just woke up.”
My thoughts were riddled with questions, but Theo must have seen it on my face. “I’m not hiding anything from you.”
“When can I see him?”
“He’s on the first floor of The Astorian. The doctor wants to see me.”
I was at the end of the corridor. A foyer and reception cubicle split the two ends of the building. Black and white tiles painted a gothic asylum vibe. The wing Nurse Nolan put me in was full of offices.
I exited the room and stood facing the opposite hallway; it curved into another wing.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Did you kill my mother, Jeremiah?
Theo didn’t want me to see our brother by myself.
But I was here now. I tentatively shuffled one foot forward and then the other.
The tunnel vision of my gaze grew narrower and narrower.
Darkness loomed at the edges, and each step didn’t appear to eat up the distance.
But I reached the foyer. It opened up to a domed ceiling, revealing three floors.
The sweeping staircase was reminiscent of 1920s mansion architecture, minus the warm lighting.
I imagined The Great Gatsby and women in flapper dresses.
Jazz music on scratchy records playing on a gramophone.
Three panes of tall stained-glass windows made up the wall behind the stairs lined by carved stone creatures. All we needed was a gargoyle. The morning sun must be a welcome respite from the gloomy and heavy atmosphere.