Chapter 26
In an instant, Alaric’s hands caressed her body, and with a tantalizing kiss, Galatea was like a small boat caught in a violent whirlpool, helplessly losing her bearings. She allowed him to pull her deeper into the storm’s heart, spiraling further and further, losing herself in the dizzying tide.
Her body arched involuntarily, as though it had been claimed by an invisible force. Every nerve seemed to be set alight, every touch from him igniting a fire she could not douse. Her temperature soared, and she felt like she was under the spell of some intoxicating substance. What’s happening to me? Rational thought evaporated as her body ached with desire, yearning to be consumed by flames of passion. I can’t…
Just as everything felt like it was about to spiral out of control, he stopped abruptly, stood up, and looked down at her with a smile that felt almost mocking.
“Galatea Hartley, so stubborn with your words, but your body tells a different story,” he said, his voice a mix of satisfaction and amusement. “Still claiming you don’t want me?”
Her face twisted into an expression of silent fury, the rage stinging sharper than any slap. That man was just taking revenge on me!
“Remember your reaction just now, and don’t you dare play innocent with me again,” Alaric warned as he rose and straightened his clothes, his tone now cold and calculated. “Although our relationship is a farce, we still have to put on a good show. Cross me again, and I’ll take you to bed, but I won’t be responsible for the aftermath.”
“Alaric, you jerk!” Galatea yelled furiously, her anger bubbling over.
“You have fifteen minutes. If you keep lounging in bed, you’ll be late for work,” he reminded her, indifferent.
Panicking at the time, Galatea quickly straightened her clothes, combed her hair in haste, and dashed out of the room. Her mind was still clouded, but she had no choice but to move forward.
Galatea stood at the street corner, scanning the area for a cab, her frustration mounting. Just then, Alaric’s limited-edition sports car appeared, deliberately pulling up right in front of her.
“It’s hard to hail a cab in the suburbs. Need a lift?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.
“No!” Galatea snapped firmly, not wanting to be anywhere near him. She would rather walk than share a ride with him.
Alaric scoffed, his intentions clear, but she refused to fall for it. With a mocking smile, he pressed the accelerator and sped off, glancing in the rearview mirror to watch her stand there, anxiously checking her phone and looking for another ride. The smirk on his face grew mischievous as he accelerated further. “Alaric, you lunatic!” Galatea muttered under her breath, furious. “When I find my son, I swear I’m giving you a taste of your own medicine before I leave!”
Her mind wandered briefly to her original plan. She had intended to wait a few more days before talking to Galen about accessing the archives, but she couldn’t wait any longer. She needed answers about her son, and she needed them fast. She had to get away from Alaric—his presence was beginning to cloud her thoughts and disrupt her clarity. Being continuously entangled with him could lead to worse consequences than being seduced. Someone like Alaric, capable of losing control, would leave her with little recourse if things went too far.
As Alaric had pointed out, this area was a nightmare for hailing cabs. After walking a considerable distance, she finally managed to flag one down and arrived at the hospital over thirty minutes late.
“Sorry, Director, traffic was awful today,” Galatea apologized breathlessly as she rushed into the morning briefing.
“It’s okay, traffic jams happen. We all get it,” her colleagues chimed in, offering understanding smiles.
“Yeah, we know,” another colleague added with a nod.
But honestly, Galatea would have preferred a severe lecture or a pay cut for her tardiness. At least then, it would have felt like something concrete to focus on, instead of the awkwardness of the situation.
One thing was clear—she had to find her son and end this messy situation with Alaric. There was no more time to waste.
After lunch, Galatea strengthened her resolve. With determination, she walked into Galen Archer’s office.
“Galen, I need to ask you a favor,” Galatea began, her voice steady despite the urgency in her eyes.
“Galen, just tell me what you need. Are you unhappy with your current position?” Galen asked, sensing something was off.
“No, I’m very satisfied with it. It’s not about work,” she hesitated, gathering her thoughts. “It’s about an old friend of mine. About six or seven years ago, she had complications during childbirth at our hospital and didn’t make it. I want to look into her medical records.”
She paused, her mind flashing back to the tragic events of the past. Her friend had been under immense pressure, insisting on a natural birth under the orders of Mrs. Marigold. Despite the risks, the doctors were forced to comply. After delivering the first child, her friend had lost consciousness. Mia, the attending nurse at the time, later recounted the harrowing details of the delivery to Galen. The doctors had advised Mrs. Marigold that insisting on the natural birth could result in a devastating outcome for everyone involved.
The official paperwork recorded the mother and both newborns as dead at birth. In reality, Mia’s desperate pleas, combined with the life savings she had offered, convinced the doctors to perform an emergency cesarean, saving the mother’s life. But the records remained unchanged, listing her as deceased—a fact she had accepted.
“Look up a case from a couple of years back?” Galen asked, processing the request.
“Is that possible, Galen?” Galatea asked, her voice filled with urgency. “My friend was an orphan—I thought she and her baby were gone. But word has it that one child survived. I need to find out where the child ended up and make sure they’re okay, for my friend to rest in peace.”
Galen nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of her request. “All right,” he said. “I’ll make a call. Just head over to the records room.”
“Thank you so much, Galen!” Galatea said, a flood of relief washing over her.
Leaving Galen’s office, she made a beeline for the records room. Galen’s call had made the process easier, and she was granted access without any issues.
The records showed the attending physician’s name, Aminta, and the details of the birth—a four-pound baby boy. If we’re talking triplets, then the eldest must bear a striking resemblance to Harry, she thought. She made a note of the doctor’s name and headed to the maternity ward to inquire.
Dr. Aminta had transferred away about four or five years ago, so Galatea turned to several veteran obstetricians and nurses. “Do you recall a woman named Stellan from six years ago? She was pregnant with triplets, but only one baby survived. The mother and the other two passed away. Do you know what happened to the surviving child?” she asked.
The team collectively shook their heads. “We see several mothers a day. It’s impossible to remember them all,” they answered.
Galatea paused, weighing her next move. If no one else remembers, surely Aminta must. After the Mrs. Marigold incident, it must have left a lasting impression on her. Her mind was now fixed on tracking down the elusive doctor. That’s my next priority—finding her and getting the answers I need about my son’s fate.
With clear objectives in mind, Galatea felt a renewed sense of purpose surge within her.
Meanwhile, her children, ever mischievous, were busy hatching their own schemes…