Chapter 38
thirty-eight
There is nothing that could have prepared me for this moment. Even in my wildest dreams, I could never have imagined the scene before me. She is lying there, arms at her sides, hooked up to wires and lines and tubes.
I press my hand against the cool viewing glass, yearning to be inside the room with her. Sitting by her side. There are a few things to take care of first, and I don’t want the darkness I am about to unleash to taint her sleep.
Dante had to feed Kendra some platitudes before she was willing to give up my mother’s location. It is too bad she is pregnant. It would have been much more fun to hear her beg after I pummeled her plastic face.
“You honestly think he would have let her die?” she snarls. “Then you have no idea how far his obsession went. Just like Christian’s obsession with you.”
“Funny thing,” I tell her. “We haven’t heard anything from your son. If he was truly obsessed, he would have been driven to pursue me, and since the bombing of the stables, he hasn’t been heard from.”
“Does a grand master voice his move before he strikes?”
Ugh, did she just compare her son to a grand master of chess?
“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.” My nose scrunches in disgust. “Where is my mother?”
Kendra scoffs. “Do you honestly think I’m stupid enough to just give up what I know without any assurances?”
“You’re alive,” Liam hisses. “That’s an assurance.”
“And how long after I give birth to this baby will that last, hmm?” She looks at me and then Dante. “I will tell you what you want to know, under one condition.”
I tap my foot impatiently. “And what’s that?”
“I want to be able to raise my baby after it’s born.”
And here I am thinking I could put a bullet between her eyes. I am mildly impressed that she hasn’t just asked us to spare her life after she gives birth, but that she wants to be part of her unborn child’s life. That is growth.
“And I want enough money to support myself.”
There it is.
“Why?” Dante asks coldly. “You won’t be leaving this house for a very long time, Kendra. Everything you need, I will provide.”
Kendra huffs. “I want my own income.”
“Get a job then,” I shrug my shoulder. “I hear McDonald’s hires washed-up trophy wife has-beens.”
“I will not—”
“Take it or leave it, bitch,” Dante snarls. The man has finally lost his patience with her. “I will allow you to live here and raise our child, but that is where my generosity ends. So, choose. My generosity after our child is born or a bullet.”
Kendra sniffs indignantly. “If those are my only two choices.” She lets out a dramatic sigh and rolls her shoulders. “He’s had her at a small care facility on Mercer Island called Rejuvenation.”
“She’s been in a coma for over ten years?” Would she even have brain function? What is the likelihood of her recovering from something like that? Slim to none is my guess.
“Off and on,” Kendra admits. “He took her out of it a few times through the years for a month or two at a time.”
“For what?” Matthias asks curiously. “Does she not need the life support to survive?”
Kendra shakes her head. “The original hospital she was at in Portland kept her in a medically induced coma until her injuries had healed enough for her to cope with the trauma,” she informs us.
“I don’t know why he took her in and out of the coma throughout the years.
Elias was about punishment and control.”
“Or he was hiding her,” I breathe as realization dawns.
“Why?” Vas’s brow furrows.
“Succession,” my father growls. “If Marianne is truly Katherine’s twin—”
I shoot him a scathing glare. He holds up his hands placatingly. “I’m not doubting you, but you have to admit that Sheila could be manipulating the facts. Instead of twins, they could simply be half siblings.”
That is a good point. If Marianne isn’t my mother’s twin, she doesn’t have a strong enough claim as heir. She is still a McDonough, though. But there is nothing to prove that. Right? I would have assumed Seamus and my great-grandmother would have removed all knowledge of a second baby being born.
This shit gives me a headache.
That headache isn’t going away anytime soon.
I look down at the doctor Matthias has put on his knees in the lobby.
The clinic—or whatever they call it—is remote and only contains a handful of patients.
Mostly women who have been prostituted and addicted to drugs.
We released the ones who are obviously sober and being held against their will.
Vas is taking care of how to get them where they need to go.
We keep the ones that are still strung out locked in their rooms until we can transport them to another facility. One that doesn’t keep them locked up.
“What is your name?” My gaze is cold and expressionless, head cocked to the side.
“Peterson,” he stutters. “Derek Peterson.”
“How long have you been attending the woman in room eight?”
The doctor fidgets nervously. “Um—” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and sweat begins to collect on his brow. “Three years.”
“And who attended to her before then?”
“Dr. Williams,” he tells me without hesitation.
“Anyone before him?”
The doctor shakes his head.
“Where is he now?”
His eyes dart to the room where my mother lies in a coma before they settle back on me.
“She strangled him with one of the cords from the monitor.”
Badass.
“When was the last time she was awake?” my father questions harshly.
The doctor licks his lips. “Three years ago.”
Elias must have put her back under as punishment.
I can’t believe she was awake just three years ago.
She has been here this whole time, right under my nose, and I didn’t know it.
It breaks my heart to see what Elias has done to her.
The medical records are detailed. There are times when she wasn’t fully unconscious.
When she could hear and feel everything that Elias did or said. If that fucker wasn’t already dead…
The whir of a helicopter meets my ears.
Dr. Radick has arrived.
It takes several more minutes for the copter to shut down, but soon Dr. Radick and his team are pushing through the clinic’s door with a gurney in tow.
“I take it this is the sukin syn who’s been keeping your mother in a coma?” Disgust and contempt roll off the Russian doctor in waves as he glares down at the man on his knees.
“One of them,” I tell him. “The other one is dead.”
“Khoroshiy.” Good. “I looked over the reports, and despite the flagrant disregard for human rights, she is in good health.”
“She’s in a coma,” my father deadpans.
“That is right.” Radick nods sympathetically. “But she has been receiving not only daily physical therapy but also Botox injections to help maintain muscular efficiency.”
“Should we applaud the good doctor?”
“I’d shoot him.” Radick shrugs. “But that’s not really my decision.”
I can’t help but chuckle at his humor.
“They’ve been using a pretty heavy cocktail of propofol, phenobarbital, and thiopental,” Radick explains. “These drugs have a continuous effect on the patient, keeping them in a sustained state of unconsciousness for as long as the drugs are flowing.”
“What should I be worried about?” I ask hesitantly. There is bound to be some problems once we take her off the medications.
“Addiction is one of them,” Radick informs me honestly. “We will have to wean her off the drugs little by little, so her body doesn’t go into withdrawal and stop her heart.”
Wonderful.
“Once we start weaning her off the drugs, she’ll slowly start to gain consciousness,” he continues while he glances at the paperwork in his hand. “She’ll come off the tube once she starts breathing on her own. Her vocality will be limited, but with some speech therapy, that too can be resolved.”
“Okay,” I whisper. Dr. Radick focuses his full attention on me. His brown eyes are a calming moment in a stormy sea. He is a good doctor. Patient and understanding. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for him and his team. I trust him.
“We’ll get her set up at my clinic and keep you informed every step of the way,” he assures me. “I will give her the utmost care. I promise.”
Swallowing back the lump of emotion welling in my throat, I nod, afraid that if I speak, I will cry.
He gives me a sharp nod and then directs his team through my mother’s door.
She is safe now, and that is all that matters. Everything else will fall into place, and I will be there every step of the way.