Chapter 30
Galatea felt as though she had slept for an eternity, trapped in a never-ending dream where her father played the leading role. Initially, the dream had been warm, filled with comfort and love, but that quickly shifted to a darker scene. She saw her father standing on the edge of a precipice before diving off. The image then morphed into him lying on the ground, spitting blood, his body convulsing from the pain, his dilated pupils unable to focus. He was unable to utter a single word in his agony. The heartache was suffocating, and as Galatea struggled to open her eyes, she realized they were streaming with tears.
“Thought you were tough around me, huh? How come you fainted in front of some thugs?” a man’s taunting voice pierced through her foggy thoughts.
Weakly, Galatea surveyed her surroundings and found herself back in the same bedroom where she had woken up before.
‘Had she been brought back here by this man again?’
Alaric, it seemed, knew all the details. Her actions, from a human perspective, were justified, but according to hospital regulations, she had made a mistake. He had witnessed the whole scene—the grabbing, the slapping, the insults—but Galatea Hartley hadn’t fought back. She hadn’t even defended herself. To him, she had been like a lamb to the slaughter.
“Why so quiet?” Alaric prodded, seeing her remain silent. “You scared, speechless?”
Galatea remained mute, her mind still reeling from the image of her father in his final moments.
Her mother had passed away when Galatea was very young, leaving just her and her father to rely on each other. Her father had always treated her like a precious jewel, showering her with affection and love. She had adored him, but now, in the aftermath of his death, she felt a mixture of grief and anger.
‘Why did he choose to end his life? Why did he leave me to face everything alone?’
Galatea gripped the bedsheets tightly, her lip trembling as tears flowed freely down her face. Alaric seemed at a loss, pausing for a few seconds before muttering, “It’s done. What good does crying here do?”
“How would you know why I’m crying? How could you possibly understand what I’m feeling?” Galatea’s voice broke as her grief and anger combined, leading to a loud, tearful outburst. “If you loathe me so much, why did you bring me here?”
Under his breath, Alaric muttered something inaudible, then turned and walked out, quietly shutting the door behind him.
Galatea was left alone in the room, her emotions boiling over. She had been carrying a deep-seated pain ever since her father’s death, but seeing Andreas fighting for his life, writhing in pain, had torn open wounds she thought had healed.
She knew crying wouldn’t change anything—it was an act of weakness and helplessness—but she could no longer contain it.
Though Alaric stepped out, he didn’t leave. He stood just outside the door, where the sounds of Galatea’s sobbing reached him clearly.
The authenticity of her grief was undeniable, and feeling the weight of her sorrow, Alaric inhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing as he stood there, contemplating.
Meanwhile, a storm was brewing outside the hospital walls. The medical scandal involving Andreas ignited public fury. His son gathered a group of protesters outside the hospital, armed with placards, and called the media to intensify the pressure.
Galatea was indeed at fault according to hospital policies, and the institution promised compensation. But Andreas’s son was unsatisfied with the amount and continued to stir up trouble. “That pain in the neck deserves it!” he shouted, rallying more anger.
Orion, catching wind of the situation, couldn’t help but laugh with delight. Her mood lightened as she read the headlines. She then proceeded to stoke the fire with a post on Facebook.
“Can’t believe there are still doctors out there who care so little for human life. Aren’t doctors supposed to heal and save the injured and dying?”
Orion, an influential celebrity with a massive following, knew how to stir the pot. It wasn’t long before her words made it into a trending topic.
“Star Orion speaks up for the victim’s family!”
Her call to action sparked a virtual mob against Galatea. As the vicious comments poured in, Orion smirked with satisfaction.
“What’s got you so cheerful?” Mrs. Ravenna asked upon seeing her daughter’s elation.
“Just some good news,” Orion replied, closing her laptop and addressing her mother. “Mom, I’m feeling great today. Tell the kitchen to whip up something extra delicious.”
“All right, I’ll get that sorted out right away,” Mrs. Ravenna responded, clearly eager to indulge her daughter’s request, now that she was in a better mood.
Since Alaric had ended things with Orion, she had been in a funk, but today, she seemed to have regained her spark, and Mrs. Ravenna was more than happy to oblige.
Griffon, sitting in the living room leafing through a newspaper, noticed the buzz surrounding the scandal but paid little attention to it.
At dinner, Orion was still visibly elated. Griffon, glancing at her, remarked, “You’ve had plenty of rest at home. It might be time to get back to work.”
Orion pouted unhappily. “What? Am I becoming a nuisance around the house?”
“It’s not about that. It’s a reminder to stay diligent. The entertainment field is constantly evolving with new faces emerging. You should take advantage of your current popularity to get more exposure,” her father advised.
Orion rolled her eyes with a playful smile. “That’s something only powerless and insignificant stars worry about. We Nash’s practically have a monopoly on the industry. You, Dad, are the power broker of show business. Who would dare compete with me for resources?”
“True, but it’s always best to plan early because I won’t be around forever. If Cormac won’t take over, it would fall on you. But what capabilities do you have now to manage the Nash empire?” Griffon’s tone was practical but serious.
“Dad, you’re not old. You have at least thirty more years in you, and I’ve got plenty of time to learn,” Orion reassured him, her voice filled with confidence.
Before Griffon could respond, a sudden thud from the direction of the closet caught their attention.
The walk-in closet was Orion’s treasure trove, and she dashed inside, only to find a maid on her knees, gathering items that had spilled from Orion’s handbag.
The maid had accidentally knocked the handbag off the dresser while cleaning.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Nash. It was an accident,” the maid hurriedly apologized.
“You klutz!” Orion fumed. “Do you have any idea how much that purse costs? A lifetime of your salary wouldn’t cover it!”
Orion gingerly picked up the handbag, inspecting it for any signs of damage. “I’m so sorry, Miss Nash, truly sorry!” the maid stammered, her hands trembling.
“It’s just a bag. Let it go,” Mrs. Ravenna interjected as she entered the room. “I’ll get you a new one sometime.”
“But this is my favorite, a global limited edition, irreplaceable now,” Orion lamented, her voice tinged with dramatic frustration.
Just then, Griffon entered the room. His eyes landed on a piece of paper on the floor. He stooped to pick it up and unfolded it, revealing a portrait of Mrs. Carrington.
“Mrs. Marigold?” Griffon muttered, noticing the name inscribed on the portrait.
‘Mrs. Marigold? But this is clearly Mrs. Carrington!’ he thought, his mind whirring with questions.
“Orion, why do you have this?” he asked, his voice suspicious.
“It fell out when I visited Galatea. I just picked it up and forgot to discard it,” Orion explained with a dismissive wave.
“Galatea’s?” Griffon’s brow furrowed in confusion.
Galatea had been carrying a portrait of Mrs. Carrington, yet it bore another woman’s name. Suddenly, Griffon realized something.