Jonathan's POV
I quickly wanted to wrap up my work so I could go and discharge Nicky.
"James," I said. "Clear the weekend. My wife is getting discharged from the hospital today. I want to spend some time with her."
"Yes," James, my assistant said. "I'll take care of that."
For the first time in months, I felt relieved. After all, Nicky had been through so much.
The kidnapping. The surgery. The pain. The humiliation and hurt at the casino.
Everytime I remembered Sanders grabbing her arm while I sat there doing nothing made my chest painful.
I still couldn't understand how I became so drunk.
I clenched my jaw.
No matter what had happened in the past, this weekend would be totally different.
Just the three of us.
Me, Veronica, Janet, our family.
Today even if the whole world stood in my way, I would be with my wife and daughter.
I barely managed to get in my car, my phone vibrated.
"James!" I said annoyed. "I told you—"
"Sir," he said, hesitatingly. "It's Mr Harmon. He called you and Miss Imelda to his office. She's already there. You…"
"Coming." I was annoyed and went up straight to his office.
I didn't even knock before entering.
"Jonathan," he said looking up. "What's wrong, where are your manners?"
"Down the drain," I said. "Especially when my wife is not considered a human."
"Jonathan??" Imelda said.
"Don't Jonathan me," I said annoyed. "And don't look at me like that. (Fredrick was glaring at me) That's my wife, my daughter's mother. You actually had her serve those lunatics. And that Sanders—"
"Aren't you doing everything for her and your daughter?" Fredrick n said. "Jonathan, you need the Blue Heart project, I don't. I'm getting it for you, and you'll give my daughter a legal foundation."
"I have." I said. "Adrian is already adopted by me. Even his name on his documents has been changed from Harmon to Rollings."
"Next time before you send her a message," I continued looking at Imelda. "Go by me."
"Okay," Fredrick said. "Imelda pour him a drink."
Frederick leaned back into his chair as if he was watching a play and not indulging in a conversation. His calm expression was only making me angrier. For years I tolerated his arrogance for the Blue Heart Project.
But today it was a different matter.
My wife was in the hospital beaten because of the mess his daughter created in wanting a project using my wife as a pawn.
Yet, here I was still sitting like a puppet with the strings in Fredrick's hands. This was one feeling I hated more than any feeling in the world.
"Take it," Frederick said. "Now relax."
I drank the scotch Imelda poured, and was about to walk out, but felt dizzy. Before long, I dropped on the floor.
As I came around, Imelda was kissing me madly on the neck.
I pushed her away. She winced in pain as she fell onto the floor.
"Jonathan??"
"What the hell are you doing?" I said buttoning myself.
"Jonathan," she said, feigning an innocent face.
For a brief moment, I looked at her face and wondered how one person could change one's expressions so fast.
Now she looked like the victim and I was her destroyer. If I hadn't personally experienced her, I might have believed her. But day by day, the truth was clearing up.
Imelda Harmon was dangerous, far more dangerous than her father.
And the worst part–she knew exactly how to manipulate and control me.
"Imelda, drop your act." I said and was about to walk out.
"Jonathan," she said, getting up. "The choice is yours. Either stay here with me, or I'll send this to her."
My eyes were wide open as I saw she took a video of me with herself.
I swallowed down my anger, and sat back on the sofa.
"Hello, Mrs Carter?" she said on the phone. "Yes, of course I'm coming. Yes, Jonathan will also be there."
"Let's go." she said. "Mrs Carter invited us to dinner."
At the Club Aura Gardens
Everyone was laughing and talking about something or another. But my mind was drifting towards Nicky.
"Why do I always feel like I'm going to lose you? Nicky, I wish I could be with you the whole day." I said in my mind.
"Imelda," I said leaning over towards her. "I have to leave. She's getting discharged today."
"Jonathan," she said with a forced smile. "Are you mad? You're my fiance, and you'll leave me here?"
"But—"
"Jonathan," she said. "Don't make me do something both you and I will regret."
Just then a waiter came along with a cake.
"Mr Rollings, as you said." the waiter said, smiling. "The cake will be served at exactly ten."
My eyes opened wide in shock on seeing the cake.
Happy Anniversary was written in small red hearts.
That's when I remembered today was mine and Nicky's eight anniversary.
Eight years.
Eight years since I last sat on a park bench with a fifty dollar cake on our first anniversary promising to protect and stay by her side.
She had nothing back then. No family support. No money. All she had was her stubborn belief I could make my dream come true and she would always stand beside me.
But what did I give in return to her?
A marriage that no one knew existed.
A husband who himself said she's a widow.
A daughter who calls him "Mr. Rollings.
The cake seemed to be mocking me as it sat in front of me.
"Oh," Mrs Carter said, smiling. "Is it your anniversary too?"
"Oh, yes," Imelda said, placing the cake between us.
"Well, then," Mr Carter said. smiling. "Cut the cake."
I clenched my fist as I cut the cake with Imelda holding onto my other hand.
"Damn, why did this have to happen today? On our anniversary, she was abused. On our anniversary she's in the hospital. On our anniversary, I'm here cutting the cake with another woman."
Suddenly I felt a pang in my heart. It was so unbearable that I clutched my chest.
"Jonathan?!" Imelda held onto my arm. "What's the matter?"
"Miss Imelda," Mr Carter said. "Your fiance..he doesn't have any heart—"
"No," Imelda said. "He's absolutely healthy. May we please excuse ourselves. I think I should take him to the hospital."
As we got in the car, Imelda gave me a scorned look.
"Jonathan," she said. "What's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me?" I said taking slow breaths. "My wife is in the hospital after being abused. Today is our eighth anniversary. Tell me what's wrong with me?"
"Okay," she said, calming down. "Driver, the hospital."
I quickly got out of the car and ran up to her room, but she wasn't there. Then I went to the reception.
"Oh, Miss Smith?" she said. "She's been discharged."
"But I didn't—"
The receptionist looked at me with a confused look and she couldn't make out why I was overreacting.
Of course she wouldn't understand why I was overreacting.
To her and the world Veronica Smith was a mere employee working at Harmon Designs. No one knew she was Jonathan Rollings wife, that she was Mrs. Rollings.
If they knew she was the legal Mrs. Rollings, would they dare do what they did now?
The thought tightened against my ribs. Today, I truly hated the fact that I kept my marriage a secret.
"Mr Rollings," she said. "Only VIP ward patients can stay until their discharge. As for the general wards, once the doctor says, 'they can leave, every hour they stay is charged at a hundred dollar an hour. She said she can't afford it, so we discharged her."
"How could you??" I said yelling at her.
"Mr Rollings," she said. "We're only following the hospital rules. And, if you care so much about your employee, then you should have booked the VIP ward or given her money."
"You—"
"Jonathan," Imelda said, pulling me back. "Sister, I'm sorry for my fiance's behavior."
As we came out, Imelda opened the car door, but I hailed a cab and took off.
Veronica's Apartment
On reaching our apartment door, for the first time I was scared of ringing the door bell.
"Mom, someone here!" Janet's sweet voice came through the door.
It took a few minutes before the door opened. On entering, I realized it was Janet who opened the door as the chair was pulled over to open the chain that was too high for her.
"Janet?," Veronica's voice came from her room.
"Mommy," Janet said. "It's Mr Rollings."
She called me 'Mr. Rollings.
Not father or dad, what she always called me, I denied her.
Now I was a stranger with a title for my own daughter. And the worst part, I made her say that. I was the one who stopped her from calling me dad, and today I was the one hating myself for that.
"Janet," I said, getting down on my knee. "From now on call me daddy. Here, I got you some painting stuff, go enjoy."
As she went to her room, I went towards Veronica's room.
On seeing me, she moved a bit towards the other side.
"Nicky!" I said smiling.
But as I touched her, she jolted away saying, "NO!"
Janet came running in.
"Daddy, mom doesn't like touching today."
My heart broke the moment Janet said that.
"Janet," I said. "Let's go."
After making sure she was comfortable, I told her to stay in her room and to not come out no matter what she heard.
I went back to Veronica, and again she jolted the moment my fingers touched her.
"Nicky??!!" I said as I grabbed her by her arms. "It's me, Jonathan!"
"Let me go! Leave me! Please leave me! I have a daughter, I'm married…no…no, I'll never say that. I swear I'll always say he's dead. Please leave me. Please..pl..pl..pl.."
With that she fainted. I quickly called the doctor.