Her Son Fell Ill

Valerie’s breath caught in the back of her throat, locking her chest in a tight grip. Her heart leaped against her ribs in a sudden, sheer panic. Her wide eyes darted toward the heavy black phone receiver clutched in her trembling hand. She had dialed the Vanguardcore secretary's extension, punching the numbers exactly as they were printed on the top of the thick folder Garrett had just tossed on her desk. She had expected a polite, dismissive assistant to answer the line and turn her away with practiced corporate grace. Why in the world was the CEO answering his own assistant’s phone?

"Hello?" Desmond's voice repeated through the speaker.

The calm, patient timber of his voice echoed in the small space of her cubicle, grounding her chaotic thoughts into a harsh, undeniable reality. It was him. There was no mistaking the deep resonance that had once filled her home and her life.

Desperate to escape the impending interaction and avoid being recognized, Valerie forced her vocal cords to tighten. She pinched the bridge of her nose slightly and pitched her voice up, adopting an exaggerated, nasally tone that sounded nothing like her normal speaking voice. "Oops, is this Vanguardcore Group? Oh, dear, I might've messed up the number. So sorry about that!"

She moved to slam the receiver down onto the base, praying he would just hang up and chalk it up to a clumsy wrong number from a confused stranger.

Instead, a low, perceptive light laugh resonated across the line. The sound sent a fresh wave of dread washing over her skin. That laugh shattered her fragile illusion in an instant. He knew exactly who was on the other end of the line.

"Seems you've got the wrong number, ex-wife," Desmond mocked smoothly, his deep voice carrying a sharp edge of amusement that grated against her frayed nerves.

Caught off guard by his instant recognition of her voice despite her best efforts to mask it, Valerie stumbled over her next breath. She quickly abandoned the ridiculous charade, straightening her spine against the rigid back of her office chair. She forced down the rising frustration clawing at her throat and cleared the false, high pitch from her throat.

Desmond didn't give her a chance to form a proper greeting. His impatience became palpable as he cut in, the amusement fading into his usual corporate steel. "If you have something to say, just say it. No need for the dramatics."

Valerie bit the inside of her cheek. She switched to a strictly formal, professional cadence, determined to treat him like any other corporate contact. "Mr. Hayes, NextWave Media is doing a feature on successful industry leaders. We are very interested in your career and recent acquisitions. We would like to request an exclusive, short interview with you on behalf of the company. Are you available anytime soon?"

"No time," Desmond refused bluntly. The coldness in his tone left no room for negotiation. He didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second, brushing off her formal request as if she were a nuisance interrupting his day. "I have no time for trivial media games."

Valerie's shoulders slumped forward in defeat. She rubbed her throbbing temples, feeling the beginnings of a severe headache taking root behind her eyes. "Got it loud and clear. I won't waste any more of your precious time."

"Not considering giving it a shot, even for old time's sake?" Desmond pressed, a taunting edge returning to his voice.

Her jaw tightened until her teeth ached. "You've made your point. I won't bother you anymore. Have a great day."

She slammed the phone down onto the receiver. The sharp clatter echoed loudly in the silent room. Gemma, sitting at the adjacent desk, turned to stare with wide, unblinking eyes.

"Wow, that was something else," Gemma whispered, leaning over the partition separating their workspaces. "That wasn't Desmond on the phone, was it?"

Valerie let out a heavy sigh and nodded her head, staring at the blinking light on her phone console. "Desmond picked up the phone himself."

"No way! Desmond himself? That's a first!" Gemma’s jaw nearly hit the floor in shock.

Valerie grabbed the heavy Vanguardcore folder and dragged her feet across the carpeted floor toward Garrett’s corner office. She braced herself for her boss's usual scolding. Standing before his cluttered desk, surrounded by framed media awards and scattered pitch documents, she relayed the crushing rejection. "He said he's too swamped for an interview," she explained, keeping her tone flat and resigned. "He has no time for media games."

Instead of getting angry or disappointed by her failure, Garrett’s eyes widened in sheer amazement. "He took your call personally?" he asked, leaning forward over his mahogany desk, his hands planted flat on the surface.

Valerie nodded, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "That's what he said. Too much on his plate right now."

Garrett clapped his hands together, an unreasonably optimistic grin spreading across his face. He ignored the rejection as if it hadn't even happened. "The fact that he answered at all is incredible, Valerie! Do you know how many senior reporters have tried to get him on the line this month alone? He never picks up. Maybe you didn't quite hit the mark this time. Go back out there, try again, and dial up the personal charm."

"Mr. Adler, I'm not sure it'll make a difference," Valerie argued, gripping the edge of his desk. "He was pretty firm about being busy. He hung up on me."

"It's worth another shot. Dial it up a notch." Garrett offered a persistent smile, pointing a thick finger toward the door. "Use that voice of yours. Make it happen."

Valerie trudged back to her desk, sinking heavily into her ergonomic chair. Her pride felt like a bitter pill lodged in her throat. Money didn't fall from the sky; it was a brutal scramble, and she desperately needed this paycheck to cover rent and keep her son safe. Swallowing her immense pride, she picked up the receiver and made a second, agonizing call to the same Vanguardcore extension.

The line connected after two agonizing rings.

"What now, ex?" Desmond queried the moment he picked up. His tone was clipped, arrogant, and dripping with scorn.

Her knuckles turned white around the plastic phone handle. She had to stay cool, for her job and for Arthur's sake. She bit back the sharp retort sitting on the tip of her tongue. "Mr. Hayes, I'm reaching out about the interview again... hoping you might see your way to giving it another thought."

Desmond let out a razor-edged laugh that sent a chill down her spine. "You're gonna need a better pitch than that to get on my calendar."

Despite her waning patience, Valerie maintained her composure, refusing to let him hear her struggle.

"Fine, if you're not into it, no sweat. We can call off the interview," he remarked, his tone shifting to a casual, infuriating indifference.

She took a deep breath, steeling her resolve. She humbled herself, lowering her voice to a soft, pleading whisper. "Mr. Hayes, please. I'm humbly asking you to give our interview a chance. It means a lot to my current position."

Through the receiver, she heard the distinct, loud background noise of his busy executive office—hushed murmurs, papers shuffling, and distant laughter echoing down a hallway.

"Can't chat now. I'm in the middle of something," he told her dismissively, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the background chatter. "Hit me up with the exact details later."

Before she could utter a single word of confirmation, the call ended abruptly. He hung up, leaving Valerie listening to the lonely hum of a disconnected line.

Valerie let out a shaky breath and placed the receiver back on the base. She grabbed her cell phone and opened the company's official WhatsApp account. Her fingers danced across the screen as she drafted a formal message to her ex-husband—a man she had successfully consigned to the digital abyss for years. She outlined the interview request, the proposed dates, and the media focus.

With a decisive tap, she sent the formal message and let her phone thud onto the desk.

A minute later, the phone vibrated, rattling against the wood. Desmond had replied.

[Why the company account? Why not just text me?] his message read, his confusion crackling through the screen.

Valerie huffed, picking up the device. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. [This is for official client communication. We are discussing a professional interview.]

His response was quick and bossy, lighting up her screen seconds later. [Use your personal number next time.]

She stared at the glowing text, letting out a world-weary sigh. The bitter irony of her situation sank in deep. Of all the people in the city, she was now at the mercy of her estranged ex for a simple paycheck. The power dynamic had shifted so drastically. The roles had reversed, leaving her scrambling while he held all the cards.

Determined to keep things on track, Valerie opened her personal messaging app and typed, [Let's focus on work. We have things to discuss regarding the interview format.]

Desmond's reply was a mix of bewilderment and resistance. [How do you propose we discuss work? In person? We agreed to keep our distance, remember?]

Valerie gritted her teeth. She was no stranger to hard knocks and the daily grind of struggling to cover bills. Reluctantly, after a few more tense text exchanges negotiating the boundaries of their interaction, she relented.

[Let's meet up after work.] Valerie sent the final reply and turned her phone face down, signaling the conversation was over.

The exhausting workday finally wrapped up. As Valerie packed her bag and slung her coat over her arm, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. The caller ID flashed Nadine’s name.

Valerie answered, stepping into the busy elevator. "Hey, I'm just leaving the office—"

"Valerie, you need to get to the children's hospital," Nadine’s tense, frantic voice cut through the line, her panic evident. "It's Arthur. He's sick with a dangerously high fever. It spiked out of nowhere."

Valerie’s heart dropped straight into her stomach. Her blood ran cold, erasing every thought of Desmond and the impending meeting. "I'm on my way."

She abandoned everything, sprinting out of the office building and flagging down a taxi. She rushed frantically into the sheer chaos of the brightly lit pediatric ward. The hospital corridors were packed with families dealing with a nasty seasonal mycoplasma virus sweeping through the city. The air smelled of sterile alcohol and lingering anxiety.

Valerie found Nadine standing by a hospital bed in the corner of a crowded room. Arthur lay on the mattress, his small face flushed bright red, his breathing shallow as he received fluids from an IV drip.

Without missing a beat, Valerie dove into the chaos. She took over the grueling vigil, wading through the hospital lines to sort out the admission papers and tackling the sudden influx of medical bills. Seeing Nadine's sheer exhaustion, Valerie gently suggested her friend head home. She balanced her profound gratitude with a firm decision, promising Nadine she would stay by Arthur's side for the duration.

Hours bled into the evening. Valerie sat in a hard plastic chair beside the bed, dipping a small cloth into a basin of cool water. She carefully wiped Arthur's sweaty brow, her chest aching at the sight of her sweet boy in such discomfort.

The sudden vibration of her phone jolted Valerie from her anxious thoughts. She pulled it from her pocket and saw Desmond's name glowing on the screen. He was calling to confirm their designated meeting spot.

Exhausted, terrified for her son's health, and genuinely battling the beginnings of a nasty cold herself, Valerie frowned deeply into the receiver. She swiped to answer.

"Hello?" she rasped, clearing her throat. The lingering effects of her cold made her voice sound husky and weak.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before Desmond spoke. "Are you okay?"

Valerie sniffled, her lack of enthusiasm evident. "Yeah. What's up?"

His next question caught her off guard. "Didn't we have a meeting planned after work? Where are we gonna meet?"

Valerie looked down at Arthur, who shifted uncomfortably in his sleep. She was juggling far too much, and Desmond simply didn't fit into her frantic schedule tonight. She couldn't explain the truth to him.

"Let's push it to another day," Valerie said, rubbing her aching forehead. "I'm swamped with stuff."

Desmond's tone instantly sharpened. A sudden, volatile anger crept into his voice, his ego clearly bruised by the perceived blow-off. "Valerie, are you messing with me?" he snapped viciously. "You think I'm just sitting around, still in love with you? You think I have time for these games?"

A sharp click echoed through the speaker. The line went dead before she could even formulate a single response to his wild accusation.

A bitter smile played on Valerie's lips as she put the phone down on the bedside table. Her heart felt heavy, weighed down by memories of their bitter divorce. He was still the same arrogant man, masking his unresolved feelings behind an angry ego.

Valerie spent a brutal, restless night curled in the unforgiving plastic chair beside Arthur's hospital bed. She barely slept, waking at every beep of the monitor and every restless shift of her child.

When the first light of morning snuck in through the hospital window blinds, it brought immense relief. Valerie woke with a start. She pressed her palm to Arthur's forehead, her tense features relaxing as she felt the cool, normal temperature of his skin. The toddler's fever had finally broken.

Arthur rubbed the sleep from his eyes, clutching her hand. "Mommy," he called out softly.

"You must be starving, kiddo," she said gently.

Later that morning, they sat over a modest, bland breakfast in the hospital cafeteria. Valerie set a bowl of plain gruel in front of him.

Arthur's face fell, his little brow furrowing in disgust. "Why do I have to eat plain gruel? I'm already sick."

Valerie let out a tired laugh, tousling his hair affectionately. "It's the best thing for you right now, buddy. But listen, as soon as you're on the mend, we're gonna have a feast. Your pick: steak, lobster, or pizza."

Arthur swallowed hard, the thought of pizza making the gruel a little more bearable as he took a small, imaginative bite.

"Mommy, can we go home? I don't like it here," he whispered, his voice shaky.

"We'll go home as soon as you finish your meal," she promised, rubbing his back. "The doctor will check on you, and if you're all set, we're gone."

After getting the doctor's final approval, Valerie helped Arthur into his heavy winter coat, then lifted him into her arms. As they walked towards the car in the parking lot, he rested his head on her shoulder and looked up at her.

"You should find me a dad, Mommy," he reasoned innocently. "So someone can carry me when I grow big and heavy. You won't be able to carry me."

Valerie’s heart ached with profound love and a sharp sting of guilt. She opened the car door and buckled Arthur into his car seat with a warm grin. "I'll always be able to carry you, no matter how big you get," she assured him, pinching his nose playfully.

"When I'm ten, can you still carry me?" he asked, his eyes bright.

"Of course, sweetheart," she promised.

"And when I'm twenty?"

"Definitely," Valerie affirmed.

"What about when I'm a hundred? Two hundred?"

Valerie chimed in with a chuckle. "I'll always be able to carry you, no matter how old you get."

Once Arthur was safely discharged and settled comfortably back at home, Valerie retreated to the kitchen. She pulled out her phone and typed a message to Desmond, hoping to salvage the disaster from the night before.

[Hey, sorry I had to bail on our meeting today. Can we try for tomorrow?]

Her phone sat on the counter, remaining stubbornly, agonizingly silent. There was no reply from Desmond.

With a heavy sigh, Valerie typed out another message, her desperation clear. [Mr. Hayes, please consider our interview request. We really value your input. I apologize for canceling last minute.]

She stared at her phone, willing a response to appear, but the screen stayed dark. A flicker of irritation ran through her. She knew intimately his penchant for holding long, bitter grudges. He was going to punish her for this.

The next day, Valerie crept into the NextWave Media office, keeping her head down. Her nerves were frayed to the breaking point. She had skipped the formalities of requesting time off yesterday, missed a full day of work, and botched the crucial Desmond situation. She braced herself for impact, anticipating a severe scolding or worse. She fully expected Garrett to fire her on the spot.

Her heart sank when she saw Garrett heading her way. But instead of a scowl, a booming, echoing laugh erupted from his chest, confusing the entire floor.

As he waddled aggressively toward her desk, he clapped his hands together with immense glee. "Valerie, you're a rock star! The operations team can't function without you!" he cheered loudly. He flashed a massive thumbs-up right in her face, his unexpected cheeriness filling the quiet room.

Valerie stood frozen, her brow furrowing in paralyzing bewilderment. She stared at him, trying to process the shocking twist. What in the world had Desmond done?