Chapter5:
OLIVIA
"Why isn't he picking up?" I said angrily, and Kate sighed.
"That's the first time he's picked up the phone since I tried to reach him. Maybe you should try again?" she answered, and I blinked as tears threatened to form at the corners of my eyes.
"Oh, I will. If I haven't been home for a few days, you'd expect that my husband would care enough to find me, don't you think?" I replied, starting to type out a message.
I was furious, not because I expected Cyril to show me any form of empathy—he had a track record of being oblivious to that concept—but because everyone at the company would know by now that I had been admitted to a hospital. If the person I'm married to cannot maintain the image of a dutiful husband, the rumors that have been making the rounds would be corroborated.
"The idiot is going to cost us our deals. Why is this my reality?" I mumbled, putting the phone to my ear.
I fiddled with the hem of my shirt as it rang and exhaled when he picked up the phone. "What?" he said in an impatient tone.
"What do you mean, 'what?' Did you get my message? Kate's voicemails? Do you know where I am, my dear husband?" I said in a taunting tone.
"You're probably at some work event or cooped up in a room with your nose in a book. What does it matter?" he replied. I started to say something but heard him talking to someone in the background.
"You'll be glad to know that I'm in a hospital. Yes, I haven't been home for a few days because I was unconscious. Did you notice my absence at any point?" I said, holding my tongue to avoid a more sarcastic remark.
"Barely," he said, and I stifled a gasp. "Well, I was barely home too… Can we have this conversation later? I have something to do."
"Our life hinges on this marriage working, Cyril. You know that. I know that. Now, there have been rumors about your… activities," I started, and he scoffed.
"I don't care what anyone has to say…" he began, but I interrupted him.
"You don't care; I do. Our business assets do. We're in charge of billions of dollars because our families work together. If you don't respect our marriage as a romantic union, at least respect the contract and come get me from the hospital," I said, trying to hold in the wave of anger bubbling in my chest.
I could hear the faint ringing in my ears again. "No need to be like that about it," he mumbled, starting to talk to someone in the background.
"All you do is stress me out. Do you enjoy it?" I said, and then he hung up.
I put away the phone and looked at Kate, who tried to maintain an unreadable expression. "Is… Is he coming?" she asked, and I shrugged.
"I don't know. I'll wait. I don't know how to remind him that keeping a united front is important. If people are already talking about the situation, even if it were true, wouldn't the sensible thing to do be to try to refute it?" I started to ramble absentmindedly.
"Yes… I, um, think," Kate answered, staring at me in confusion.
"Cyril does the opposite—being in the restaurant with that lady, now this. Why did he come back to New York?" I asked, speaking to no one in particular.
The headache started to worsen. I put my palm to my head and chuckled. "I'm going to get the nurse," Kate said, running out of the room as the machine beside me started to beep.
I could feel my heart pounding against my chest, threatening to burst any minute now. My palms started to feel sweaty, and beads of perspiration formed on my face. I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breath as I slipped into a seamless sleep.
"How are you feeling, Ms. Penhurst?" a dark-haired lady in blue overalls said as my eyes fluttered open.
I looked at her and glanced in the opposite direction to see Kate asleep on the couch. "I… Who are you?" I asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
"I'm the doctor—Denise McHob," she said, pointing to the clock. "It's the night shift, and you've probably only seen my colleague, so I understand the confusion," she finished, and I nodded.
"You're the only doctor I've seen," I said quietly, glancing at the clock. It was 3 a.m., and we were still in the hospital.
I felt a lot better than I had after the conversation with Cyril, but something was amiss. He should've been here by now. "My husband," I continued. "Did he come? I called him earlier," I said to her, and she shook her head.
"I'll check with the nurses to see if he came earlier, but I've been here for most of the shift, and no one has dropped by," she answered, then proceeded to check my vitals and ask how I was feeling.
I told her that I wanted to go home; I didn't want to spend another night here, and I knew waiting for Cyril was futile. As we spoke, Kate woke up and listened to the conversation, trying to fight away the drowsiness. The doctor left the room, stating that she'd discuss discharging me with the nurses, and I picked up my phone to call the driver.
"It's 3 a.m., Liv. Let the driver sleep. I sent him home a long time ago; we could get a taxi to take us to the estate," Kate said as I turned on the phone.
I thought about what she had said and decided to let her get a cab instead. A few minutes later, we were making our way out of the ward when we overheard voices of people rushing someone down the hallway in a wheelchair. We stepped out of the way to let them pass, and as we walked toward the reception area, I felt him before I saw him, and my heart skipped a beat. It was Cyril, standing at the reception table, talking to the nurse on duty in a frantic manner.