A Bitter Errand

When Tess dragged her heavy eyelids open, the hospital room was bathed in the harsh glare of fluorescent lights. The stiff cushions of the corner couch dug into her aching spine. She blinked against the brightness, her gaze searching the sterile space. The lingering presence from the dead of night had vanished. Gideon was gone.

A soft rustle of silk sheets drew her attention across the room. Valerie sat up straight in her luxurious hospital bed. A careless, malicious smile curved her lips as she locked eyes with Tess, her gaze brimming with lazy arrogance.

"Actually, Gideon did show you respect," Valerie purred, stretching her slender arms with a satisfied sigh. "Usually, he would hold me in his sleep."

Tess felt a sharp sting of humiliation prick her chest, but she refused to cower. Squaring her bruised shoulders, Tess rose from the uncomfortable couch. She met the other woman's sleepy, triumphant gaze with icy defiance.

"The ink is barely dry on Conrad's death certificate," Tess shot back, her voice ringing clear and steady in the silent ward. "And here you are, sleeping with his brother. I wonder what Conrad would think if he saw all this."

Just as the sharp words left her pale lips, the heavy wooden room door slammed open. Gideon stood imposing in the doorway, his broad frame blocking out the hallway light. His dark eyes locked onto Tess, blazing with a volcanic, restrained fury. The air in the room instantly grew thick and suffocating.

Valerie gasped, contorting her features into a mask of fragile distress. She let out a fake, trembling whimper. "Tess, please, Gideon is just—"

"Go into the bathroom and wash up," Gideon commanded. His voice cracked like a whip, cutting off Valerie's performance before it could gain traction. His jaw clenched tight, and his uncompromising glare never left Tess's face.

This time, Tess did not argue. She turned on her heel and walked into the adjacent bathroom, pushing the heavy door shut and sliding the metal lock into place. The moment the lock clicked, her strong, defiant facade shattered into pieces. Her knees buckled. She leaned her weight heavily against the cold porcelain sink, sliding down until she hit the hard tile floor. The nauseating thought of Gideon holding Valerie in his arms, his large hands soothing another woman while she suffered alone in the dark, drained the last bit of energy from her veins.

It took several minutes for Tess to piece herself back together. She splashed freezing water onto her cheeks, staring at the dull, lifeless eyes reflecting in the mirror. She plastered a rigid, forced smile onto her lips, tugging the corners of her mouth upward until it looked passable.

She stepped back out into the ward.

Gideon hovered closely and attentively over Valerie's bed. Valerie looked radiant, a healthy flush returning to her cheeks as she basked in his undivided attention.

Without missing a single beat, Gideon turned his head. His eyes dragged over Tess’s pale form.

"Val wants the seafood soup from Waldorf Restaurant," he commanded.

Tess froze, the demand sinking into her exhausted brain. Before she could process a response, he issued a callous, demeaning command.

"Get the seafood soup and then get out of here," he ordered, his deep voice dripping with venom. "You're nothing but a pain in the eyes here."

A massive lump of unspoken pain lodged right in the center of her throat. She swallowed hard, forcing it down. Emotionally numb, she turned her back on the sickening display of affection and walked out of the suffocating ward. The guards by the entrance let her pass without a word.

Outside the hospital doors, the blazing summer heat slammed into her like a physical blow. The humid air pressed down on her weakened chest. Tess walked mechanically toward the nearest bus stop. She boarded a packed, un-air-conditioned city bus, squeezing into a narrow space near a grime-streaked window. The stifling heat inside the vehicle pressed against her skin. She stared blankly at the passing scenery, losing herself in the blur of concrete buildings and glaring sunlight. Her mind went mercifully blank, seeking refuge in the rhythmic hum of the engine and the static motion of the ride.

By the time she snapped back to reality, she realized the bus had traveled far beyond the restaurant.

She stepped off the bus, her boots hitting the scorching pavement. With no other option, she forced her aching legs to move. She walked for miles along the burning concrete, the blistering sun beating down on her unprotected shoulders. Sweat soaked through her thin clothes, stinging the infected, poorly treated wounds on her arm. The intense heat overtook her traumatized body. Every step felt like wading through thick, suffocating mud.

She finally reached the grand entrance of the Waldorf Restaurant. She stood in line for what felt like hours, swaying on her feet as the rich smells of expensive cuisine twisted her empty stomach into knots. She managed to purchase the hot, costly soup, gripping the heavy bag with trembling fingers.

Right at the threshold of the restaurant doors, the blinding summer sun struck her face with brutal force. Her vision went black. The ground tilted beneath her boots. She collapsed heavily onto the burning concrete, the sounds of panicked shouts fading into dead silence as consciousness abandoned her.

Meanwhile, back in the quiet hospital ward, Gideon sat on the edge of the mattress. He held a small porcelain bowl, absentmindedly spoon-feeding hot broth to Valerie. His jaw remained clenched tight. His dark eyes kept darting toward the clock on the wall, visibly irritated by Tess’s unusually long three-hour absence. His mind churned with uninvited worry, distracted to the point he did not notice Valerie choking and coughing on the scalding liquid he just shoved past her lips.

"Gideon..." Valerie gasped, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, tears springing to her eyes.

He scooped up another spoonful, his gaze drifting toward the closed door again. He was ready to feed her another bite without even looking.

Suddenly, his cell phone rang loudly, shattering the tense silence of the room. Gideon dumped the bowl onto the bedside table and snatched the phone from his pocket.

"Speak," he answered.

The voice on the other end delivered a few quick, sharp sentences. Gideon’s expression shifted instantly into pure panic. The blood drained from his face, leaving him pale and wide-eyed.

He abandoned Valerie and the spoon, turning his broad back to the bed. "Call a maid if you need anything!" he shouted over his shoulder, already sprinting out the door before she could utter a single word of protest.

Left alone in the quiet room, Valerie stared at the empty doorway. A screaming, hateful rage boiled over in her chest. She grabbed the delicate porcelain bowl and hurled it against the hard floor. It shattered into jagged pieces with a deafening crash, hot broth splashing across the sterile white tiles. She gripped the bedsheets, her knuckles turning white. The humiliating truth settled over her. Gideon had not stayed by her side all night out of genuine affection. He had only stayed because Tess was present on that cramped couch. The moment his missing wife was in actual danger, he was consumed by deep, sudden worry. He had abandoned her without a second thought.

Gideon raced his car recklessly through the crowded city streets. Tires screeched as he took sharp corners, running red lights in a frantic, terrifying blur of speed. He gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles ached, arriving at a lavish, modern apartment building in a breathless eight minutes.

He hammered his fist against the heavy apartment door.

His close friend, Grant Pierce, pulled it open. Grant took one look at Gideon's heavy panting and desperate speed, a knowing, amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Where is she?" Gideon demanded, pushing past Grant into the spacious, immaculate living room.

"Not bad, Gideon," Grant noted smoothly, checking the time on his watch. "It usually takes twenty minutes to drive here from the hospital. You made it in under nine. She must mean quite a bit to you."

Gideon glared at him, his chest heaving, refusing to entertain the taunt.

Grant closed the door. "She is fine. She suffered from a severe fever and heat exhaustion from walking in that sun. She is resting quietly in the guest bedroom right now."

A physical wave of relief washed over Gideon. He slumped his broad shoulders against the doorframe, running a shaking hand through his dark hair. The suffocating knot in his chest finally loosened, allowing him to pull a full breath into his lungs.

Watching him, Grant’s tone abruptly shifted, turning grave and serious. He crossed his arms over his chest, blocking Gideon's path to the hallway.

"Gideon, we all know you have loved Valerie for years," Grant urged, his voice echoing loudly in the quiet room. "You only stepped aside back then because of Conrad. But love is selfish. Now that Conrad is gone, let everything reset to the beginning."

Gideon lowered his eyes to the floor, his jaw tight, remaining stubbornly silent.

Grant stepped closer, pressing the issue sharply. "Before Conrad died, he explicitly entrusted Valerie to you. It was a solemn dying wish. Why are you still foolishly holding onto a broken Tess? You need to divorce her and fulfill your duty to marry Valerie."

A harsh, ragged cough interrupted the tense, heavy silence of the living room.

Both men snapped their heads toward the dark hallway corner.

Grant’s partner, Faye, stood there looking awkward and uncomfortable. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, her eyes darting away from the men, clearly uneasy with being caught in the middle of the private confrontation.

Right behind her stood Tess, dressed in a gray tracksuit, silently absorbing every word.