For a brief moment, I had a flicker of hope.
He would have noticed that I had blood on myself.
He would have seen the spilled coffee everywhere.
He would have heard the infants crying.
He would have protected me from this.
But his eyes passed right over me. To him, I was simply an obstacle in his way.
“Vanessa,” he said in an irritated tone of voice, “please do not mark up patients where staff is able to notice them.”
No longer would I have that trembling feeling inside of me.
The pain I felt inside of me felt much colder than the sheet I was laying on.
Richard’s ex-wife Celeste came into the room following him. She had a stylish, camel-colored coat over her shoulder, and she was wearing bright red lipstick that resembled a smirk, and she said, “Oh, Maya, you are so very good at making drama out of everything you do.”
When Richard stepped into the room, he quietly closed the door.
“I have already handled the issues with the house,” he said. “You will recover here; after that, we will talk about your living situation, and the boys.”
I was wiping coffee off of myself with the edge of the blanket as my heart kept beating evenly and steadily.
“Which house?” I asked in a calm voice.
He showed some disbelief by raising an eyebrow.
I looked to see what time it was.
It had been one hour since my property transfer was finalized.
It had been one hour since my lawyer texted me: “Filed. Congratulations, you are now the only owner.”
I held my baby boy tighter against my chest and smiled.
Part Two
Richard mistook my quietness as a sign of weakness.
He has always perceived me this way.
When we first got married, he assumed that because my voice was soft, I had low intelligence and would take his advice.
At charity events, Richard introduced me as “sweet Maya,” and he continuously interrupted me when our conversations turned to investments or contracts.He failed to recognize that I launched my professional practice as a medical litigation consultant at an age less than thirty-five. Nor did he inquire as to why surgeons, insurance defence lawyers and hospital executives returned calls to me within minutes of being made.
He saw only the second wife with swollen ankles and tired eyes.
That single miscalculation cost him everything.
“What the hell are you so happy about?” Vanessa questioned angrily.
“Timing,” was my answer.
Richard’s expression was now hard and unyielding. “You’re on drugs. You’ll make a fool of yourself.”
Celestial gazed into the glassy surface of the window to see if she was pretty enough to get away with what she was doing. “Richard, the moving crew should be ready to leave by now. When they are finished, I want to have the blue room ready by dinner.”
“I thought you said that you wanted to be in charge of the blue room?” I questioned.
“My room,” she replied sweetly. “I have always owned the master suite.”
“No, you didn’t,” I said quietly.
Vanessa leaned down toward me. “You listen to me. Your father owns that house. My mother owns it. You belong wherever women like you go when their wealthy husbands decide that they are no longer interesting to them.”
The whimper of one of the babies awakened something primitive and protective in my heart.
I pressed the button on the nurse’s call button.
Vanessa quickly slapped it away from my hand.
Richard moved closer to me. “Maya, don’t make this situation more difficult than it already is. I am trying to provide support to you. Simply sign the postnatal custody agreement without argument, agree that I will retain custody of the twins following weaning, and I will provide you with an apartment.”
I looked at him.
This was no betrayal.
This was not divorce.
This was a hostile takeover.
The sharpness of pain within me crystallized into something precise and icy.
“You want to take my new babies,” I declared.
“They are Huntsleys,” Richard answered matter-of-factly. “They require stability.”
Celestial gazed at Richard faintly smiling.“And a real family.”
Before I could clarify, the hospital room door was swung open.
With a glance, Nurse Alvarez silently entered the room, took in the coffee, then turned her attention to the blood that was seeping through the blanket haphazardly covering me, at which point she stopped moving entirely.
Vanessa quickly turned to the nurse. “She spilled coffee on herself.”
The nurse visually made her way from the coffee cup that had fallen on the floor to the ripped front of the gown I had on. “Security personnel is already located on this floor.”
Richard defiantly raised his chin and said, “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes,” the nurse replied in a curt tone, “A visitor to a postoperative room of a mother.”
I looked at Nurse Alvarez, and said, “Please document everything, such as the burns, ripped stitches, and if possible, all of your statements. Also, I want you to summon the hospital security and alert the police.”
Vanessa busted out laughing, “Police? For family drama?”
Then my cell phone started to vibrate on the bedside table.
Richard grabbed for my phone, and I sharply yelled, “Don’t!”
Immediately after I yelled, Richard stopped.
Nurse Alvarez picked up the phone off of the bedside table and placed it into my hands carefully.
It was Daniel Park, my attorney, and he was calling via video.
I picked up the phone and answered the call.