Chapter 7: The Hidden Truth–2
“This is ridiculous,” Tears of frustration burned in my eyes. “Don’t break.” My voice cracked on the last word, betraying the lie.
“Talking to yourself already?” Theodore’s voice sliced through my breakdown. I whirled around to find him in the doorway, his wheelchair perfectly positioned to block any escape. His eyes raked over my disheveled appearance with clinical detachment.
Hysteria bubbling up in my throat. “Is this what you wanted? To watch me fall apart?”
Something dangerous flickered across his face. “Careful, Sarah. Most in your position would be crying on their knees by now.”
“I don’t care!” The scream tore from my throat, raw and desperate. My hands shook as I wrapped my arms around myself. “Lock me up, control my life, play your power games – but don’t expect me to break for your entertainment.”
Elizabeth Pierce’s distinctive stride echoed through the hallway early on the third morning. I was curled in an armchair, fighting another wave of nausea, when she burst
into the room.
“Sarah?” Her sharp intake of breath made me look up. “Good God.”
I must have looked worse than I thought. Elizabeth crossed the room in quick strides, her perfectly manicured hand cool against my forehead.
“Mrs. Thompson!” Her voice cracked like a whip. “Call the doctor immediately. And inform my son I need to see him. Now.”
“Mother, this doesn’t concern-” Theodore’s voice died as he entered the room. For a moment, something like shock flickered across his face.
Elizabeth rounded on him, more furious than I’d ever seen her. “Doesn’t concern me? Look at her, Theodore. Look what you’ve done to your wife!”
“She breached my privacy-”
“So you decided to starve her? Imprison her?” Elizabeth’s voice shook. “I did not raise you
to be cruel.”
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“I was protecting-”
“You were punishing her. For what? Accessing your computer? There are appropriate. responses to minor infractions, Theodore Pierce, and this is not one of them!”
I tried to stand, to intervene somehow, but the room swayed alarmingly. Mrs. Thompson caught my elbow, steadying me.
Elizabeth’s face had gone dangerously pale, one hand pressed to her chest. “I thought… I thought I taught you better than this…”
“Mother?” Theodore’s voice changed, sharp with concern.
Elizabeth swayed, her other hand grasping empty air. Mrs. Thompson and I moved at the same moment, but Theodore was faster. He caught his mother as she collapsed, her pearls scattering across the marble floor.
“Call an ambulance!” Theodore barked, cradling Elizabeth’s limp form. “Now!”
The next hours passed in a blur of paramedics and hospital corridors. I sat in the private
waiting room, my head spinning with more than just pregnancy–induced dizziness. Mrs.
Thompson appeared with a cup of tea, her expression grave.
“Mrs. Elizabeth is stable,” she reported quietly. “But the doctor says the stress triggered a
serious cardiac episode. She’ll need to stay for observation.”
I nodded, hands trembling around the warm cup. “And Theodore?”
“Still with her.” Mrs. Thompson hesitated. “Miss Sarah… the doctor who examined Mrs.
Elizabeth noticed your condition. She wants to check on you as well.”
My hand flew to my stomach. In the chaos of Elizabeth’s collapse, I’d almost forgotten my
own precarious situation. “Did she tell Theodore?”
“No. But Miss Sarah…” Mrs. Thompson’s eyes were kind but worried. “You can’t keep hiding this. Not after today. The stress isn’t good for you or the babies.”
Through the waiting room window, I could see Manhattan’s lights beginning to sparkle like stars, indifferent to the dramas playing out in hospital rooms and luxury penthouses.
“I’ll see her,” I told Mrs. Thompson. “But not here. Not with Theodore so close. Make an
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Chapter 7: The Hidden Truth–2
appointment at her private clinic for tomorrow.”
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