Chapter 16
Galatea arrived at the Silver Star Hotel, deep in thought. Alaric had dismissed her, but Galen’s words lingered in her mind—could he really be offering her another chance? The uncertainty weighed heavily on her as she checked her phone. Sure enough, she found a landline number she recognized. Temptation surged, and she nearly dialed it to confirm everything, but then she hesitated. Why would Caspian lie? After all, he trusted her.
Room 8808—the presidential suite—was located on the top floor. Whoever could afford such an extravagant room might indeed prefer a private, confidential medical visit rather than a trip to the hospital. Approaching the door, Galatea was about to knock when, to her surprise, it swung open. Was this a thoughtful gesture, arranged for her convenience?
She stepped inside silently, scanning the vast foyer. No one was visible, so she called out. “Hello, I’m Dr. Galatea from Serenity Heights Medical Center. Did you call for a doctor?” Her voice echoed in the emptiness, but there was no response.
Meanwhile, Harry, having exited the room, immediately dialed Caspian with excitement. “It’s about to work! It’s really going to work!”
A long silence followed from Caspian’s side.
“Caspian, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you saying anything?” Harry pressed, his anxiety rising.
“Is it really okay to deceive Mom like this?” Caspian’s voice trembled with doubt. “She trusts me so much. If she finds out, she’ll be so angry with me. What if she gets mad and pushes me away?” His heart ached at the thought.
Harry quickly countered, his tone reassuring. “We’re doing this for their happiness, so they can be together without any secrets. And you want to go home to a place where both your mom and dad are waiting for you, right?”
Caspian hesitated but then nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”
Harry, sensing his moment, added, “We look so alike. You want to be my brother, right?”
Caspian paused. “Not really. I have a lot of affection for Mom, and Elisa is adorable too.”
Harry fell silent, reflecting on the complexities of their situation.
“Alright, I’ll let you know if anything else comes up,” Caspian said before abruptly ending the call, leaving Harry to sigh in frustration. It seemed pointless to worry about his emotions now—the bigger picture was what mattered.
“Mom, I’ve done this for your future. Don’t be mad at me,” Harry muttered to himself as he stepped into the elevator, heading out to clear his mind with a drink.
Back in the suite, Galatea repeated her introduction, her voice filled with growing uncertainty. Still, there was no answer. She decided to move further inside and suddenly heard the sound of running water from the bathroom. Was someone taking a bath? And they had let her in during a shower?
Unsure whether to proceed or leave, Galatea stood in the middle of the room, conflicted. But just as she was about to turn back, Alaric emerged from the bathroom, clad only in a bathrobe. His wet hair glistened, and his muscular chest was exposed, water droplets clinging to his skin.
Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, neither of them spoke. Then, both of them broke the silence.
“Why are you here?” Alaric asked, confusion in his voice.
“How did you get in?” Galatea responded, equally startled.
The tension in the room thickened as they both scanned the space, realizing something was amiss.
“Where’s Caspian?” Alaric demanded, his voice laced with suspicion.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Galatea replied coolly. “You asked me to come check on you. What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?” She had no intention of being dragged into whatever bizarre situation this was.
“Stop changing the subject. Where’s my son?” Alaric barked, his frustration building.
“Alaric, what delusions are you suffering from?” Galatea’s voice was strained with disbelief. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m here to help you, not take your son!”
Ignoring her words, Alaric began shouting Caspian’s name throughout the suite. No answer came. His panic and anger escalated.
“Galatea, you’ve got some nerve showing up here to take my son!” Alaric’s voice turned into a dangerous growl. “Hand him over, or this will get a lot more complicated than an interrogation.”
By now, Galatea was furious, her patience fraying. She didn’t know what was happening with Alaric, but it was clear this wasn’t a medical issue—this was something else entirely. “Stop with your threats and call the police. I want justice, too.”
Alaric’s eyes darkened. He’d never met anyone as unflappable as her.
“How exactly did you charm my son?” Alaric stepped forward, his hand reaching out to grab her wrist. “What are you really after?”
Galatea jerked her arm free. “I told you already—I don’t know your son, and I haven’t tried to take him. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just call the cops.”
As she reached for her phone to dial, there was a knock at the door. High heels clicked against the floor as the voice of a woman echoed from the other side.
“Alaric, I know you’re in there. Open the door. Let’s talk this out, okay? I don’t want our relationship to end. I can’t accept it. Give me one more chance, please—just one more, Alaric!”
Galatea froze, hearing the desperation in the voice. Was this his wife? How could someone so deeply troubled still be so enamored with him?
Alaric’s expression darkened further. His face twisted in frustration as he reached for his phone. He dialed a number and snarled into the receiver. “Cormac, get your sister away from my door in the next ten minutes, or there’ll be hell to pay.”
He ended the call abruptly, tossing the phone aside. The pleading voice outside the door intensified, a series of sobs breaking through the air.
“Alaric, please open the door. Whatever I did wrong, I’ll change,” came the plea.
Galatea, still trying to make sense of the situation, wasn’t prepared for what happened next. In a flash, Alaric pressed his body against hers, his lips crashing down onto hers in a forceful kiss.
Galatea’s mind went blank, and before she could react, he spoke, his words cold and calculated: “Do as I say, then return my son to me, and all will be forgiven.”
She couldn’t comprehend his meaning. Her heart raced, and a sense of danger washed over her. Was he threatening her? Before she could react, she found herself thrown onto the bed, Alaric’s weight on top of her.
“Moan,” he commanded, his voice dark and demanding.
“Moan?” Galatea’s mind struggled to process. “Moan what?”
“Do I really need to teach you how to moan in bed?” Alaric’s tone was a twisted mixture of amusement and something darker.
In that moment, Galatea realized how much danger she was truly in. Every instinct screamed at her to fight back—but in the chaos, she couldn’t see a way out.