Chapter 77: The Girl I Love is a Wonderful Person
Galatea had barely waited ten minutes in the coffee shop downstairs from Nexus Innovations when Cormac arrived, a look of concern on his face.
“Dr. Galatea, I’m really sorry for summoning you so abruptly,” he said, sounding genuinely apologetic.
“No problem,” Galatea replied, offering a reassuring smile. “I’m not busy right now. What’s the urgent matter, Mr. Nash?”
Cormac opened a file case, pulling out a series of medical images and reports. “I wanted to ask you to take a look at some images of my mother’s condition. She was initially diagnosed with gastritis, but then a specialist suspected it might be cancer and had her redo the tests. Unfortunately, that specialist left for a conference abroad this morning, and I’m out of my depth. I thought of you, since you’re an expert, and wanted to get your opinion first.”
Galatea glanced at the files and reports, her brow furrowing as she took in the images. “I wouldn’t call myself an expert, but I’ll do my best,” she said, carefully examining the documents.
Cormac’s anxiety was palpable as he waited for her assessment. “Is it really cancer?” he asked cautiously.
Galatea paused, her gaze fixed on the images. “In cases like Mrs. Nash’s, the initial diagnosis could be something as common as gastritis or a stomach ulcer. But there’s something unique about this condition—it’s rare, and not easily detected. The specialist was right to recommend further tests.”
She continued, choosing her words with care. “It’s confirmed to be cancer, but fortunately, it’s in the intermediate stages. There’s still a good chance for a cure.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with their weight. Despite the reassurance, Cormac’s expression darkened. His worst fear had become a reality.
“Did you tell Mrs. Nash?” Galatea asked gently.
“I didn’t dare. I told her it was just ordinary gastritis,” Cormac replied, his voice tinged with guilt.
“It’s best not to tell the patient just yet. The mental toll could be overwhelming,” Galatea suggested softly. “But surgery will be necessary, followed by chemotherapy treatments. I’m afraid we won’t be able to keep it a secret for long.”
Cormac’s face tightened with concern. “I understand. But I don’t know how to handle all of this. What should I tell her?”
Galatea thought for a moment before offering a practical solution. “You could tell her that the test results indicate a serious gastric ulcer, and that surgery is recommended. For the chemotherapy, we could arrange for the doctor to visit under the pretext of giving nutritional injections. We’ll keep the cancer diagnosis from her, at least for now.”
“Alright, I’ll prepare a fake medical record for my mother,” Cormac said, visibly relieved. “Thank you so much, Dr. Galatea.”
“It’s no trouble. Just focus on getting your mother the surgery as soon as possible,” Galatea said kindly.
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” Cormac hurried out of the coffee shop, leaving Galatea alone to reflect on the situation.
Galatea didn’t have the best impression of the Nash family, but she found Ravenna to be pleasant, and Cormac, despite his flaws, seemed like a genuinely decent person. The news about his mother weighed heavily on her—cancer was always a hard diagnosis, no matter how treatable. As a doctor, she had seen many people go through the painful process of treatment, but it never got easier.
After finishing her coffee, Galatea returned home, deciding to catch up on online messages of support from her followers. She was in the middle of typing a response when she noticed Alaric’s car leaving the underground parking lot, followed closely by a sleek Bentley.
Was he heading out for a meal with his important client?
…
The evening was soon upon her, and Nexus Innovations had just signed the contract with Far East International. To celebrate, Ambrose hosted a lavish dinner at one of the top hotels in the city. The private room on the top floor boasted stunning glass walls that offered a panoramic view of the entire city of Arizona.
“It’s been years since I’ve been back. Arizona has changed so much,” Ambrose commented as he settled into his seat, gazing out at the vast cityscape.
“Are you from Arizona?” Alaric asked, intrigued.
“No, but I spent five years here,” Ambrose replied, his gaze drifting across the city. A shadow of melancholy crossed his face as he seemed to remember something. Despite his attempt to conceal it, Alaric noticed.
“This city seems to have some special significance for you,” Alaric observed.
Ambrose smiled faintly, embarrassed by his lapse. “You’re sharp, Mr. Knight. I’m not afraid of your laughter, but… a former girlfriend of mine lived here.”
The mention of her name seemed to weigh heavily on Ambrose. His eyes darkened for a moment, and the air between them shifted.
“I see,” Alaric said, his voice quiet but perceptive. “It’s clear that, even now, you still care about her.”
Ambrose smiled wryly, his tone laced with sadness. “Yes. She was a wonderful girl. It’s unfortunate—so many things in life are beyond our control, and back then, we had to part ways.”
“Indeed,” Alaric agreed, understanding the unspoken regret in Ambrose’s words.
Ambrose sighed and then turned the conversation. “I’ve heard you have a son who’s both handsome and adorable. Mrs. Knight must be quite an extraordinary beauty.”
Alaric’s pride was evident as he responded, “The woman I fell for is indeed magnificent.”
Ambrose lifted his glass, toasting to their partnership. “Here’s to you, Mr. Knight. May our collaboration be successful and bring us both great fortune.”
“To a fruitful partnership,” Alaric echoed, raising his glass.
After clinking glasses, they both took a sip of their wine, the weight of their words hanging in the air.
…
Later that evening, Galatea returned home and continued responding to the messages of support from her followers. She had been at it for some time when Mia, noticing how tired Galatea seemed, suggested, “Stellan, go take a nap.”
“Thank you, Mia, but I’m not tired. You should rest,” Galatea insisted, though she knew Mia was right.
“I will then. Just don’t overdo it,” Mia said, heading to the guest room to sleep.
Galatea nodded, her focus back on the screen, when the sound of the doorbell interrupted her.
Mia was already asleep, so Galatea went to answer it. When she opened the door, the strong scent of alcohol hit her immediately, and standing before her was Alaric, leaning against the doorframe with flushed cheeks and slightly glazed eyes.
“How much have you had to drink?” Galatea asked, stepping aside to let him in, her concern rising.
“Just… not much,” Alaric mumbled, his words slurred as he stumbled slightly.
Alaric and Ambrose had kept their drinking under control at the beginning of the evening, but as the night wore on, the conversation had turned toward past relationships, causing Alaric to drink more than he had intended. He hadn’t consumed much, but his years of abstaining due to health issues had made him more sensitive to alcohol’s effects.
The driver, seeing Alaric’s condition, had tried to take him back to the Knight family villa, but Alaric insisted on coming to Galatea’s place instead. After some reluctance, the driver had complied and brought him over.
Galatea helped him into the bedroom, where he collapsed onto the bed, pulling at his necktie in frustration. His shirt buttons popped open as he yanked at the fabric, revealing his chest.
It was clear that tonight would be more complicated than she had anticipated.