Chapter 8

Harrison suddenly developed a violent coughing fit. His body convulsed as he struggled to breathe.

His face turned an alarming shade of blue, and his hands clawed at his chest. The phone slipped from his trembling fingers and clattered to the floor.

Nyla saw the message on the fallen phone and immediately understood what had triggered his condition.

Rage flooded through her veins, but her father's health took priority over confronting Jordyn. She frantically pressed the call button for the nurses.

"Help! I need a doctor now!" she shouted into the hallway.

A team of medical staff rushed into the room. They immediately began checking her father's vital signs while Nyla stood helplessly in the corner, watching his condition deteriorate before her eyes.

The lead doctor emerged from the examination looking grave. He pulled off his mask and shook his head slowly.

"Mr. Jayston's condition has suddenly worsened," he said wearily. "His kidney failure has progressed rapidly. We need to transfer him to the ICU immediately for intensive monitoring and treatment."

Nyla felt her legs go weak. "How serious is this?"

"It's critical," the doctor replied bluntly. "But I'm afraid we have a problem. Our ICU is completely full. Every bed is occupied, and there's a waiting list. All the hospitals in the city are experiencing the same shortage of resources."

"Wait?" Nyla could barely comprehend what she was hearing. "Doctor, my father can't wait. Look at him!"

Her father was still struggling to breathe normally. His skin had a grayish pallor that terrified her.

"I understand your concern, Mrs. Summer, but we're doing everything we can," the doctor said helplessly. "All we can do right now is stabilize his condition with medication and hope a bed opens up soon."

Desperation clawed at Nyla's chest. She thought immediately of Clark. As the heir to Summer Group, he had connections throughout the medical community. He could pull strings and get her father the care he needed.

With shaking hands, she dialed Clark's number.

After several rings, someone picked up. But it wasn't Clark's voice that greeted her.

"Hello, who's calling?" came Jordyn's sickeningly sweet voice.

Nyla's blood turned to ice. "This is Nyla. I need to speak to Clark immediately. It's an emergency."

"Oh, Mrs. Summer!" Jordyn's voice was dripping with false concern. "Clark is in the shower right now. He's been taking such good care of me all day that he's completely exhausted. Poor thing needs to rest."

Nyla bit back her fury and forced herself to stay focused. "This is about my father. He's dying and needs an ICU bed. Please put Clark on the phone right now."

"Oh my, what terrible timing," Jordyn said with obvious fake sympathy. "I wasn't feeling well this afternoon either. Just some pregnancy nausea and dizziness, you know how it is. But Clark was so worried about me and the baby that he immediately called in the best medical team in the city. They're all on standby right now, just in case something happens to us."

Nyla's hands were shaking so violently she could barely hold the phone. Her father was dying, and her husband was playing house with his pregnant mistress.

"Can you please just-" Nyla began, but Jordyn cut her off.

"Oh, I hear the shower turning off. Clark will be so tired after everything we've been through today. I should probably let him rest. You understand, don't you?"

The line went dead.

Nyla stood in the hospital hallway, feeling like the world was collapsing around her.

She closed her eyes and tried to think of alternatives. Then suddenly, an image flashed through her mind - a figure handing her a coat in the rain. Damon's cold but decisive voice echoing in the car.

Without allowing herself to second-guess the decision, she dialed his number.

"Mr. Damon, this is Nyla," she said when he answered. "I'm sorry to bother you, but my father is critically ill. He needs an ICU bed urgently, but the hospital says they don't have any available. I know this is a lot to ask..."

"Send me the hospital address," Damon's voice cut through her rambling. It was sharp and authoritative. "I'll handle it. Ten minutes."

The line went dead, but his words carried more reassurance than Clark's empty promises ever had.

Exactly ten minutes later, the hospital director personally arrived at her father's ward.

Behind him came a full medical team, including specialists Nyla recognized from medical journals. They moved with efficient precision.

"Mr. Jayston will be transferred to our premium ICU immediately," the director told Nyla respectfully. "We're bringing in the city's leading kidney specialists for consultation. He'll receive the absolute best care available."

Within an hour, her father was settled in a private ICU room with round-the-clock monitoring.

That evening, after her father's condition had finally stabilized, Nyla returned to the house she had shared with Clark.

She sat in their living room, surrounded by three years of memories that now felt like lies.

She opened her phone and began forwarding every single message and photo Jordyn had sent her to Clark's email address.

The videos of Jordyn showing off expensive jewelry. Photos of their intimate moments in the apartment Clark had bought her.

Recordings of Jordyn rubbing her belly and cooing, "Daddy loves us so much. He's going to give us everything."

After sending all these, Nyla typed a final message: "Clark, these are from your girlfriend Jordyn. Since you two love each other so much, I'll step aside and let you be together."

Then she photographed the divorce papers Valarie had prepared and attached them to another email: "The divorce agreement is ready. Have your lawyer contact Valarie tomorrow to finalize everything."

After hitting send, Nyla stood up and began dismantling their life together.

She pulled their wedding photos off the walls and threw them directly into the trash. The jewelry Clark had given her, the clothes he had bought, the makeup he had surprised her with - everything went into garbage bags.

She called a moving company and worked through the night to clear out her belongings. By dawn, the house looked exactly as it had before she had moved in - empty and cold.

Nyla took one final look around the space that had once felt like home.

She dragged her suitcase to the door and walked out without looking back.