Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
With a sigh, I swipe away from his message and put the phone down. The truth is, I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t have the energy to pretend I’m okay, to smile and nod, and feign excitement for my newly married life that already feels like a disaster.
My thoughts drift back to Charles’s message. For a fleeting moment, I wonder what might have happened if I’d married him. I would have found out that he is no longer wealthy, far from it, and he couldn’t live to his side of the bargain. Would I have left immediately after he had broken my trust, or would I have stayed? Even though he was an ass to others, he was always kind to me.
Would I have ended up in this mansion anyway, trapped in a loveless marriage? I might have stayed with him, but not with him and his mother. I was really dreading living with her. None of that matters now. I’ve made my choice, and there’s no going back.
A sudden chill runs through me, and I realize the blanket has slipped off my shoulders. I sit up, the room spinning slightly as I do. My stomach growls a sharp reminder that I haven’t eaten all day. I know I need to, but even the thought of food makes me nauseous. My limbs feel heavy, my head foggy, and for a moment, I wonder if I can muster the strength to get out of bed at all.
Eventually, I force myself to move. The bathroom feels like a mile away, but I make it, clutching my phone as I go. The light is harsh, and I squint against it, leaning against the sink for support. My reflection in the mirror is not a pretty sight. Blotchy skin, dark circles under my eyes, and hair sticking to my damp forehead.
As I stare at my sickly, unattractive countenance, my mom calls.
I answer quickly, forcing my voice to sound bright and cheerful. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, sweetheart,” she replies. “You had your big Gala last night, didn’t you? How was it?”
“It was great,” I lie cheerfully.
“Are you not well? You don’t sound too good.”
“I’m fine,” I invent. “Just had a bit much to drink. Maybe I’m tired too.”
She pauses, and I can tell she’s debating whether to tell me something.
“What is it, Mom?”
She takes a deep breath. “Raven, I wanted to let you know... your father’s not doing too well.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I grab the edge of the sink and hold on tight. “What do you mean? What happened?”
She hesitates, her voice trembling. “His treatment... there are complications. The doctors are concerned about his heart. They think it’s related to the stress on his body from the thyroid cancer and the medication. They’re adjusting his treatment plan, but...”
“But what?” I ask, my chest tightening.
“It’s serious,” she admits softly. “They’re doing everything they can, but they’ve warned us to prepare for the worst, just in case.”
For a moment, I can’t speak. The space feels too small, the air too thin. “What?”
“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t—
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I whisper, my voice breaking.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” she says, and I can hear the guilt in her voice. “You’ve been through so much lately... I thought we could handle it. But now... I think you should come.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Take care of yourself first, Raven,” she says gently. “You don’t sound well, and the last thing we need is for you to get worse.”
I promise her I’ll rest, but as the call ends, I know I won’t. My father is all I can think about now, his stubborn pride, and his refusal to seek help until it was too late. The thought of losing him is unbearable, and for the first time in years, I feel truly helpless.
I sink to the floor, my back against the wall, tears streaming down my face. Not this too. This is just too much. The phone slips from my hand, and I bury my face in my knees, wishing I could do something to fix everything that's wrong.
Eventually, I wipe the tears from my face, the motion shaky and clumsy as I try to gather myself. My chest feels tight, each breath shallow, but I force myself to stand. Be strong, I tell myself. Be strong for him.
I wipe the tears from my face, forcing myself to stand despite the weakness in my legs. The cold bathroom tiles feel like they are freezing my feet as I quickly return to my room. My fingers tremble as I call for a taxi. I’m in luck, there is a taxi cruising back from another job and can be with me in five minutes. Grabbing my purse, I pull on a coat and rush to the door. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat a mix of desperation and exhaustion. I don’t care how late it is or how weak I feel. My father needs me.