Filed to story: My Husband Regrets Divorcing Me (Audrey & Cornell)
Resorting to deception, Doreen clutched her stomach and cried out in agony. “Roscoe, my stomach… It’s unbearable!”
Doreen clung to Roscoe like an octopus, and he had no choice but to carry her into the car, leaving Nicole behind without a backward glance.
Nicole sat on the ground, despondently watching the car disappear, tears clouding her vision. Her heart throbbed with a dull pain.
Just then, a passerby noticed Nicole’s distressed state and approached with concern. “Miss, are you alright?”
Such a voice full of worry made Nicole’s tears flow freely, large and glistening like pearls.
The passerby was taken aback. “Miss, what’s wrong? I can take you to the hospital, but I’ll need to record the process with my phone in case any tricks are in play.”
Nicole, amidst her sobs, managed to say, “No, that’s not necessary.”
She tried to mask the pain in her chest.
The passerby scrutinized her pale face. “Are you sure? You seem very unwell.”
“I’m fine. Thank you,” Nicole replied, not wanting to dampen the stranger’s kind intentions. She knew she couldn’t go to the hospital, not with the crucial trial just two days away and no room for more complications.
Despite the crushing revelation of Roscoe’s amnesia, she steeled herself for the challenges ahead.
Summoning her strength, Nicole slowly stood and limped toward a nearby bench to rest.
However, just as she seemed to settle, her strength gave way, and she collapsed from the bench, unconscious.
Alarmed, the passerby shouted for help. “Miss! Miss! Can someone call an ambulance?”
Nicole was rushed to the hospital.
As the doctor administered her IV, Nicole’s phone rang.
The passerby who had brought Nicole to the hospital picked it up, saying, “Hello?”
Silence greeted the passerby from the other end, not even the whisper of breath.
Just when the passerby assumed the call hadn’t connected, a chilling, authoritative voice demanded, “Who are you?”
The tone was so imposing that the passerby involuntarily shuddered under its weight. “I’m the one who brought the young lady to the hospital. She fainted outside the Peace Hotel, and now she’s at a hospital…”
Before the passerby could finish, the line was cut off with a series of abrupt beeps.
The passerby stood there, puzzled, wondering if concerns over medical expenses had caused the swift hang-up.
Since Nicole’s phone was locked, the passerby couldn’t access any contacts and decided to stay by her side until she woke up.
About ten minutes later, the passerby heard rapid footsteps approaching. Turning around, he saw a sharply dressed man heading his way. To his surprise, he recognized the newcomer. “Mr. Schultz, what brings you here?”
Jarrod frowned slightly, not recognizing the passerby, who then introduced himself. “I’m Dilan Boyd, a sales representative from Artificial Home Furnishings. We recently submitted a real estate project proposal to your company.”
Despite the introduction, Jarrod’s expression remained blank, overwhelmed by the many minor figures seeking his attention. He couldn’t recall them all.
Dilan understood the situation. After all, the event had been bustling, and his company wasn’t well-known. It was no surprise that Jarrod hadn’t recognized him or remembered any prior interaction.
Dilan brought it up merely to create some rapport, hoping it might lead to future collaboration.
“Was it you who brought this woman here?” Jarrod inquired.
After a brief pause, realizing Jarrod was referring to Nicole, Dilan nodded. “Yes. I was at the Peace Hotel dining when I noticed this young lady on the ground, her legs visibly injured. I offered assistance, but she declined. However, the moment she stood up, she collapsed.”
Dilan tended to be loquacious, especially since he grasped Nicole had to be significant for Jarrod to rush here personally. Jarrod was such a bigwig, after all. Eager to make a good impression, Dilan elaborated without prompting.
“She fell?” Jarrod interjected with a succinct question.
Dilan explained, “Yes, she was shoved to the ground by another woman. It seemed she knew the man accompanying the aggressor and attempted to intervene, which led to her being shoved and verbally abused.”
Dilan chose not to delve into the specifics of the altercation, noting only that it was a distasteful exchange. Had it not been for his driver’s delayed arrival, he might have missed these critical details.
“Later, I found her here, weeping intensely, so I approached to see if I could help,” Dilan concluded.
Upon hearing the account, Jarrod’s expression turned stern. He knew the individuals Dilan described.
“Alright, you can leave now.” Jarrod dismissed Dilan abruptly, his tone icy.
Observing Jarrod’s darkening expression, Dilan regretted speaking so freely, thinking his words had somehow offended Jarrod. He chastised himself for his failure to choose his words properly.
“Okay, I’ll be going then,” Dilan said, leaving with a heavy heart.
As Dilan exited, Jarrod’s assistant quickly approached him.
Extracting a business card, the assistant handed it over, saying, “Mr. Boyd, please send your proposal directly to the department manager using this card.”
Dilan’s spirits lifted instantly. He accepted the card with both hands, expressing his gratitude effusively. The assistant’s gesture suggested that a well-crafted proposal could secure him the project, potentially earning him a significant commission.
Floating on air with excitement, Dilan gushed, “Thank you! Thank you!”
His gratitude was so profound he felt he would do anything the assistant asked, be it how outrageous it seemed.
“You’re welcome. Mr. Schultz appreciates your assistance today, Mr. Boyd,” the assistant responded courteously.
Dilan realized he had indeed aided the right person, someone of consequence to Jarrod. He made a mental note to continue his acts of kindness, believing that such good deeds would bring him fortune, as they seemed to today.
Meanwhile, back in the hospital room, Nicole lay seemingly at peace, her breathing steady.
However, the tears that lingered at the edges of her eyes betrayed her inner turmoil, a silent testament to her pain that Jarrod could not ignore.
A flicker of anger crossed Jarrod’s features. He rubbed the corners of Nicole’s eyes with his calloused fingertips, pressing a bit too firmly as if trying to release his pent-up frustration.
Quickly, the skin around her eyes reddened from the harsh friction.
Even unconscious, Nicole seemed to sense the discomfort. She furrowed her brow and whimpered softly.
Jarrod noticed her discomfort and softened his touch, caressing the reddened area gently without further action.
As dawn broke, Nicole’s eyes fluttered open to find Jarrod’s face close to hers. He was seated beside her bed, absorbed in a finance magazine.
Nicole was unsure if he had been there throughout the night or had just arrived.
Startled, she gripped the bed sheets tightly, her eyes wary and searching.
Confusion clouded her mind. She hadn’t fully grasped her surroundings.
Yet, she blurted out, “What are you doing here?”
Jarrod set the magazine aside, his eyes narrowing slightly as he countered, “What are you hiding?”
Nicole’s grip on the sheets tightened, her expression turning stern.
“I asked you first!”
Jarrod responded with a dismissive snort, “There’s not a part of your body I haven’t seen before.”
Nicole’s expression shifted dramatically with Jarrod’s words.
Now fully aware, she recognized she was in the hospital. Memories of events prior to her loss of consciousness flooded back. She remembered seeing Roscoe.
Nicole’s face contorted with mixed feelings of grief and something less than grief.
Jarrod watched her closely, his eyes narrowing. “Still dwelling on your fantasy?”
His voice carried a chill, mocking edge, revealing his long-held knowledge of Roscoe’s return and Roscoe’s memory loss, something Jarrod had likely orchestrated. Not just likely. Certainly.
A profound sorrow welled up in Nicole. She felt she and Roscoe were lab rats, entirely at the mercy of Jarrod and the Watts family, who held power over her and Roscoe’s fates, dictating life or death without their input. Despite their struggles, the outcome seemed fixed.
With her mind swirling, Nicole had no desire to reflect on any of it.
She gestured toward the door and demanded, “Get out.”
Jarrod’s face subtly shifted. He felt he might have felt undue sympathy for her. Throughout the night, he had watched her restless sleep and nearly allowed his resolve to soften, contemplating whether he should let her meet Austin.
However, he knew that seeing Austin could reignite certain thoughts in her. If he dropped his guard, she might seize the opportunity to take Austin away with her, as she had managed previously.
Thus, he resolved to fight for Austin’s custody at any cost. With Austin in his grip, Nicole was like a kite bound by its string and wouldn’t wander around.
With Jarrod making no move to leave, Nicole swiftly threw off the bed sheets, removed her IV, and climbed out of the bed, ignoring the blood that marked her hand.
Jarrod, his brow creased in disapproval, seized her arm. “What are you doing!” he demanded.
Her voice dripping with sarcasm, Nicole retorted, “Staying in the same room with you is repulsive. If you’re not leaving, I will.”
Jarrod, known for his short temper, felt his demeanor chill further at her words. “So, you don’t want to stay with me? Who is it you want to be with?” he asked coldly. His sneer was sharp. “Your lover? Didn’t he abandon you?”