Chapter 3

Just then, Iris' phone rang. After glancing at the caller ID, her hardened expression instantly softened. Instinctively, she turned her back to me and answered the call. "Hello? What's wrong? What? Are you bleeding?"

A man's muffled groans might've come from the other end of the line, and her expression immediately tightened with anxiety. "Alright, alright, stay there. I'm coming over right now!"

After hanging up, she turned around and said, "A major client from the company was involved in a car accident. I have to go deal with it right now. You should hail a cab and take Flynn to the hospital on your own."

"Iris, your son's dying!" I clutched her sleeve. "Who could possibly be more important than your own son's life?"

"What the hell do you know? If we lose this client, our whole family's going to starve!" Iris forcefully shook my hand off and rushed out the door without a single backward glance.

Gritting my teeth, I cradled my semi-conscious son in my arms. Without putting on shoes, I sprinted down six flights of stairs and flagged down a cab on the street.

…

In the emergency room, the doctor put Flynn on a ventilator and administered epinephrine to treat his allergic reaction.

"He inhaled a potent allergenic chemical dust, which triggered acute allergic asthma. If you had brought him in ten minutes later, even the gods couldn't have saved him!" the doctor reprimanded me sternly.

I slumped onto the bench outside the emergency room, my entire body trembling. Recalling the tender tone Iris had used when she answered that phone call, the suspicion in my heart began to grow like weeds.

I took out my old iPad, which I had previously used to secretly sync with Iris's phone location, and booted up the tracking app. The GPS showed that her car was parked in the underground garage of the most luxurious hotel in the city, Echelon Grand Hotel.

My mind instantly went blank. While our son's life was on the line in the emergency room, she had actually run off to a hotel?

I asked a nurse to keep an eye on Flynn, hailed a cab, and raced toward the Echelon Grand Hotel. Following the movement of the tracker, I made my way all the way to the fine dining restaurant on the third floor of the hotel.

Iris' laughter, along with the sound of a man's voice, drifted from inside the private room. I took a deep breath and shoved the door open. "Iris, you bitch—" I stopped short, realizing there was nothing inappropriate going on.

Around a massive round table sat seven or eight middle-aged women dressed in professional business attire. Iris was holding a wine glass, standing beside a sharp, sophisticated female executive with a sycophantic look on her face. There were men present, but they were only a few assistants dressed in formal suits.

The room fell into a deathly silence. Everyone stared at me—a man with disheveled hair and clothes covered in white powder—as if I were a madman.

Iris' face flushed crimson as she lunged forward, dragged me out of the private room, and slammed me hard against the wall in the hallway. "Have you lost your mind, Dylan? What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"Didn't you tell me that your client was involved in a car accident, and you were taking them to the hospital?" I asked quietly, my mind in complete disarray.

"My client's husband was the one who was injured. I called an ambulance. Does it look like I need to personally escort him? The woman inside is the biggest investor in my company. I can't afford to make a single mistake!"

She fumed, pointing at my nose. "How did you even find me here? Did you think I was cheating on you, so you came to catch me in the act? Look at you, look how pathetic and slovenly you are right now!

"Instead of taking care of Flynn, you spend all day being paranoid. Get lost! I don't have time to coddle you!" Having said her piece, she shoved me away, straightened her suit, plastered a smile on her face, and stepped back into the private room.

Leaning against the carpeted wall of the hallway, I couldn't help but feel like something wasn't adding up. Had I truly wronged her? Was she really out here working herself to the bone for our family while I suspected her of having an affair and even nearly ruined her career?

I walked out of the hotel in a daze. By the time I returned to the hospital, Flynn's condition had stabilized, and he was fast asleep.

Looking at my son's red, swollen little face, my heart filled with guilt. I picked up my phone and was about to text Iris an apology.

Right then, a call came in from an unknown number. "Hello, is this Mr. Holt? I'm a deliveryman from Mythra Technologies."

The voice on the other end sounded somewhat anxious. "The central air conditioner Ms. Lockwood ordered—the one worth nine thousand dollars—has arrived, but her line has been busy, and I can't get through.

"I checked the system and found the backup number you provided five years ago when you were shopping for a bed. Could you please contact her to open the door for me?"