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“The forehead wound is large, and she lost a lot of blood. She should have come earlier. But the real issue is her high fever. She’s had it since last night. She needs to be admitted and kept under observation. Someone must care for her.”
Laura nodded nervously, relief flooding her.
“I’ll take care of her. She doesn’t have family. She’s my roommate.”
Georgia was alone–no family, no friends. Laura recalled a conversation where Georgia had mentioned this.
The doctor glanced at Laura kindly. “That’s generous. If you’re willing, that’s good. You should complete the admission paperwork.”
“Okay. I’ll do it now.”
Laura took the forms, feeling the sting of the cost–a month’s salary gone in an instant.
“Why do you fall so easily?” she muttered bitterly, then entered the ward to check on Georgia’s sleeping form.
Later, she left the hospital and headed to Vetro Club.
“What’s wrong with Georgia?” Laura asked the PR manager, requesting leave on her behalf. She said Georgia was sick and had fallen, needing rest.
The manager was preoccupied and dismissive. She didn’t understand why Charlotte had transferred Georgia to her department.
Frankly, she didn’t like Georgia. The trouble Georgia caused had even led to firing two call girls–Yvette and Raven.
She wondered what Charlotte was thinking. For someone as useless as Georgia, firing two girls because of her was ridiculous.
“Tell her to rest as long as she needs,” she said and promptly forgot about it.
When Charlotte arrived at the club, she couldn’t find Georgia. She called the PR manager.
“She asked for leave today,” the manager replied. “Seems tired, wants to rest.”
After a pause, she added cautiously, “Charlotte, since Georgia came to my department, she’s caused a lot of trouble. Have you thought about transferring her somewhere else?”
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Chapter 40
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Charlotte’s smile vanished the moment the manager’s words cut through the air. Her eyes locked onto the manager’s face, sharp and unwavering.
Once a rogue herself, Charlotte owed her survival to Preston. He had pulled her back from the brink when no one else would. When Preston discovered she carried the blood of an Alpha, he didn’t hesitate–he invited her into the Dark Spike Pack and entrusted her with the operations of the Vetro Club.
The Public Relations Department manager, Elaine, was also a member of the Dark Spike Pack but lacked the Alpha lineage. So when Charlotte’s Alpha aura flared unmistakably, Elaine’s composure faltered instantly under the invisible weight of that power.
“Elaine,” Charlotte’s voice cut cold and firm, “I assigned Georgia to your department. Are you doubting my choice or my judgment?”
A bead of cold sweat trickled down Elaine’s temple. She scrambled to deny it. “No, of course not. If you think so highly of her, I’ll just put in more time to train her. Charlotte, I need to get back to work.”
Charlotte remained rooted, a faint satisfaction stirring inside her as she heard Georgia planned to take a few days off. Finally, the naive girl was conceding to some much–needed rest.
“Good,” Charlotte muttered, rubbing her nose with a relieved smile. The last thing she wanted was Georgia coming to her with more work piled on.
“What a relief,” she breathed quietly, her mood lifting.
Downstairs, Laura collided with a colleague, calling out, “Veronica, did Mr. Foster come by today?”
Veronica, the ‘good friend‘ Laura had once labeled a traitor, had also been whisked away by Amber during conversations
about Yvette and Raven.
“No, I haven’t heard anything. If Mr. Foster showed up, the girls would be buzzing about it,” Veronica replied bluntly. “Why? Are you interested in him too, Laura?”
Laura’s eyes flicked to Veronica, masking her surprise with a casual tone, “Veronica, do you like Mr. Foster?”
Veronica waved her hand dismissively. “Not just me–he’s popular with lots of the girls.”
Laura exhaled softly, relieved. “Good. You shouldn’t fall for him like the others. Mr. Foster isn’t just anyone; he only
chooses the best. He’s here for entertainment, nothing more. Don’t let yourself get hurt.”
She squeezed Veronica’s hand gently. “I’m telling you this as a friend. I don’t want to see you broken over someone like
him.”
Veronica’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I know, Laura. I have to get back to work.”
Though Laura meant well, Veronica felt a gnawing frustration beneath her words.
Ignoring the shift in mood, Laura checked the time on her phone, then hurried out of the Vetro Club toward the hospital.
Inside Georgia’s ward, she found her still asleep. “What a headache,” Laura muttered under her breath.
After speaking with the doctor, Laura learned that the wound on Georgia’s forehead wasn’t as severe as it appeared. The injury looked worse only because treatment had been delayed. The real issue was Georgia’s fragile condition.
When Georgia finally opened her eyes the following afternoon, her fever had broken but her body remained hot to the
touch.
“I’m thirsty…” she croaked.
Laura snapped awake, glancing at her impatiently. “Wait a minute.”
She turned and returned with a glass of water. Georgia took it wordlessly, drinking in silence.
The ward fell into a heavy quiet.
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Georgia stared down, waiting.
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Breaking the stillness, Laura said, “You hit your forehead on the doorknob–that’ll leave a scar. But it seems you’ve already got one, so this new one won’t matter much. Don’t tell anyone about this. I’ve taken leave for you. Once your fever’s gone, you can get back to work. I paid your medical bill, and I’ll bring you food while you stay here.”
Georgia said nothing.
Frustrated, Laura snapped, “Did you hear me? I’m not the only one responsible here. How could you sleep outside after getting drenched? That’s why you got the fever. I barely touched you and you collapsed.”
Still, Georgia remained silent.
Laura’s voice rose. “What do you want? I brought you to the hospital! If I hadn’t, you’d be dead from that fever. I paid for everything. Why won’t you say a word? Tell me–how much money do you want to keep this quiet?”
Georgia kept her head bowed, mute.
Annoyed, Laura shouted, “Just say what else you want!”
She braced herself, expecting Georgia to demand a fortune.
Slowly, Georgia raised her head, eyes steady. “I want an apology.”
Laura’s disbelief shot through her. “You want me to apologize?”
Her voice sharpened, dripping with scorn, “You want me to apologize to you?”
As if the very idea was absurd and shameful.
“Tell me how much money will you take?” Laura scoffed, a disdainful smile creeping over her face.
But Georgia shook her head, lying back on the bed, her tone calm and unwavering. “An apology is all I need.”
“What?” Laura’s glare hardened, anger blazing in her eyes. “Are you threatening to tell everyone about this if I don’t apologize?”
Once more, Georgia fell silent.
If a mistake was made, why should pride stand in the way of a simple apology?
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