Chapter 34
Alaric stared at the thick stack of documents with disbelief, the weight of Galatea’s words sinking in. She looked at him with unwavering seriousness.
“Your condition is serious,” she explained, her tone firm. “You must adhere strictly to the regimen I’ve outlined. It’s a long process, and it requires ongoing, strict self-discipline. If the patient doesn’t cooperate, not even God can save them!”
“I’m not just trying to scare you!” Galatea added, noting his nonchalant attitude. “Your last episode almost killed you, and your delusional disorder has reached a very severe stage.”
“I’ll say it again, I do not have a delusional disorder!” Alaric’s voice grew sharp, his frustration evident as he glared at her.
“Nobody with a mental illness ever admits to having one,” she retorted calmly, not phased by his anger.
Alaric fell silent, the anger slowly dissipating into a brooding quiet.
“Don’t worry, though. I have strict professional ethics. I assure you that your reputation is safe with me.” Galatea’s voice softened, a hint of sarcasm creeping in. “It’s just a delusion—treating someone else’s child as your own. It’s not yet a danger to society, something you can easily conceal,” she added with a sardonic smile.
Alaric couldn’t find words to argue.
“How’s your sleep been?” Galatea asked, changing the subject with a more neutral tone.
“Not good,” Alaric admitted reluctantly. He hadn’t slept properly in years, and the insomnia had worsened ever since he’d been in a coma for three years. Add to that the stress from Caspian’s illness, and sleep had become a luxury he could hardly afford.
“If you want to see an improvement in your health, better sleep is a top priority,” Galatea responded, her confidence unwavering. She couldn’t help but swell with pride as she added, “You’re lucky to have me as your personal physician. I’ve got quite the knack for treating insomnia. Just two sessions a week, and you’ll see significant improvement.”
Alaric raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his eyes. “If I remember correctly, you’re a surgeon. Treating insomnia seems more like an internist’s job.”
“You’re right,” Galatea agreed, her tone matter-of-fact. “Internal medicine is not my forte, but I’ve got practical experience with insomnia.” She grew animated as she shared her past success. “Ambrose suffered terribly from insomnia. He could barely sleep once a day. After my physical therapy, he improved within a week and significantly so within a month. He called me a once-in-a-century miracle worker.”
Galatea’s energy was infectious, but then her words suddenly faltered. She realized what she had just said and the implications of mentioning Ambrose.
The sudden change in her demeanor didn’t escape Alaric’s attention. He casually asked, “Ambrose, was he your late husband?”
Galatea’s heart stuttered at the question. Late husband. That was the lie she’d told Alaric, though it wasn’t the full truth. Ambrose Vale had been her fiancé, the man she had loved with all her heart. He was the one who had driven her to the brink of despair.
The memory of their engagement day rushed back, vivid and painful. She had been so happy, believing their lives together would be filled with nothing but joy. But tragedy struck without warning. She had called him immediately, but there had been no answer. His house had been empty when she went to check. He had disappeared without a trace, leaving her to cope with the devastation alone.
That dark period was the hardest time in her life, and it haunted her. She had to face her father’s death alone, handle the aftermath, and listen to the pounding of creditors at her door. Ambrose had abandoned her in her time of need. Ambrose Vale, why were you so heartless?
Galatea felt the sting of tears rising in her eyes. She didn’t even realize they had started to fall until a tissue was offered to her. She snapped back to reality, hastily accepting it, wiping her eyes.
“Thanks,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I’m sorry, that was my fault just now.”
It was the second time Alaric had seen Galatea cry. Moments ago, he had noticed her expression shift from pride to sudden despondence, followed by an overwhelming sorrow. Subconscious reactions don’t lie. He didn’t know what the full story was, but it was clear she had loved her late fiancé deeply. His suspicion grew.
“I apologize,” Galatea quickly recovered, trying to regain her composure. “Let’s continue with your situation. I can’t promise a cure, but I can help you improve. However, I need your cooperation.”
“Sure,” Alaric replied, now finding no reason to doubt her expertise in treating insomnia.
“How about we schedule you for physical therapy sessions on Wednesdays and Saturdays? Does that work?” Galatea asked.
“Sure,” Alaric agreed, relieved to have a clear plan of action for his treatment.
Just then, an alarm went off on Alaric’s phone, breaking the tension. It was set to remind him to pick up Caspian. Every Friday at 4:45 PM, without fail, Alaric would set this alarm, knowing his son attended boarding school during the week and often needed reminding.
“Come with me,” Alaric said suddenly, looking up from the phone.
“Where are we going?” Galatea asked, her confusion clear.
“To pick up my son,” he answered.
“Why should I accompany you to pick up your son?” Galatea asked, raising an eyebrow.
Alaric smirked. “Don’t you like my son? You couldn’t wait to play mom to him, even accusing me of having delusions.”
Galatea went silent, taken aback by his bluntness.
“I won’t argue with you,” Alaric added. “I’m going to pick him up now, and you’re coming with me. If you don’t believe me, let my son tell you himself.”
With that, Alaric grabbed his keys and stormed out of his office, leaving Galatea no choice but to follow. She grabbed her purse, still quiet, but her mind was racing.
Alaric let out a small snort of disbelief as she followed. So, she’s stubborn, even when it’s clear she’s about to be confronted? Well, he thought, let’s let Caspian do the talking.