Chapter 44: She Has Better Things to Do
The night deepened, the hospital corridor bathed in harsh fluorescent light.
Alexander Hamilton leaned against the wall, the cigarette between his fingers burned down to the filter. He checked his watch—the hour hand pointed to eleven.
“Is Dr. Carter still here?” He stopped a nurse rushing past.
The nurse paused, eyes above her mask flickering with confusion. “Dr. Carter? She left after seven.”
“I heard there was an emergency surgery.”
“Oh, the ectopic pregnancy case?” The nurse nodded. “The surgery went smoothly. Dr. Carter left right after.”
Alexander’s brow furrowed. “I’ve been waiting since six. I didn’t see her leave.”
The nurse gestured toward the end of the hallway. “The ER has a separate exit. She probably took that route.”
He froze.
She’d rather take the long way than walk past him.
The nurse studied him curiously. “Did you need something from Dr. Carter?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “The ectopic pregnancy patient… was it life-threatening?”
“Nearly bled out,” the nurse murmured. “They had to remove one fallopian tube.”
“Must have been painful.”
The nurse sighed. “What do you think? Ruptured blood vessels, losing half her blood volume—of course it hurt.”
On the drive home, streetlights cast fractured shadows across the windshield.
He remembered seeing Evelyn outside the hospital that day.
She’d been pale as paper, lips bloodless, barely standing without Vivian’s support.
So that was the pain she’d been hiding.
The moment he opened the door, the greasy scent of fried chicken assaulted him.
Annabelle Taylor sat cross-legged on the sofa, takeout containers littering the coffee table. The raucous laughter of a variety show blared through the living room.
“You’re back late.” She didn’t look up. “Seeing Evelyn again?”
Alexander loosened his tie. “She wouldn’t seek me out.”
Annabelle licked sauce off her fingers with a scoff. “Playing hard to get? Please. She’s just after your money.”
His gaze swept over the disaster zone—chip crumbs embedded in cushions, cola stains dried on the leather.
“This is why you insisted on a leather sofa?”
“Easy cleanup.” She shrugged. “Just wipe it down.”
“Stop eating on the couch.”
“Make me.” She tilted her chin up. “I’ve always done this. Why complain now?”
He turned toward the bedroom.
“Wait!” Annabelle sprang up, greasy fingers clutching his sleeve. “Watch TV with me!”
“I’m tired.”
“You used to skip class for amusement parks,” she shrilled. “Now you won’t even sit through a show? Did Evelyn poison you against me?”
“This isn’t about her.”
“Liar!” She made a grab for his phone. “She saw me at the hospital today—I bet she tattled! Let me check!”
Alexander seized her wrist, voice glacial. “Annabelle, drop it. Evelyn wants nothing to do with us. Stop dragging her into this.”
