Chapter 44
Calista was worried that she might be recognized. She pretended to cough and swept hair forward to cover her face.
In the VIP ward, Brigid had a mink coat draped over her shoulder and wore heavy makeup. She was sitting on the couch and having a spirited conversation with a patient on a hospital bed.
Calista deliberately avoided eye contact. Brigid was so engrossed in her gossip that she didn’t realize the nurse in front of her was the same lady she had humiliated in a poker game a few days ago.
“Some people just don’t know their place, you know? A few days ago, I saw how Mr. Fenwick and Ophelia acted all lovey–dovey and inseparable at a banquet.
“I have no idea what his idiot of a wife is thinking, allowing something like this to happen and letting people make her the laughingstock.” Brigid loved gossip more than anything. Her best friend, Niamh O’Connor, shared her passionate love for gossip as
well.
Niamh couldn’t care less about the nurse, who was helping her change her IV drip. The moment she talked, the arrogance in her tone was unmistakable.
“Don’t you know? Mrs. Fenwick came from the countryside. Now that she finally snagged a rich man, of course, she’s gonna do everything to keep him happy.
“She didn’t dare talk back when Wendy bossed her around. Do you think she’d have the courage to question Mr. Fenwick about the ladies he keeps around him?”
Niamh had just finished speaking with a smirk on her face when she suddenly took a sharp gasp.
“Ouch! Can’t you even do this right? It shouldn’t hurt when you remove the needle from my hand. How could you be so useless?”
She flew into a rage and mercilessly slapped Calista, who lost her footing and fell straight to the floor in front of the cabinet, sending the metal tray crashing to the floor.
Brigid couldn’t stay still either. She came over in a puff, her voice grating as she hurled insults at Calista. Then, she immediately raised her hand, ready to strike her.
“I’m sorry, miss!” Calista instinctively flinched when she saw what Brigid was about to do. At the next moment, she immediately got
down on her hands and knees.
That pitiful, submissive posture instantly made Brigid feel better, hence sparing Calista from another slap. She lowered her hand, eyes brimming with arrogance as she gazed at Calista.
“The nurses here are trained well, it seems. At the very least, they deliver a good apology.”
Brigid and Niamh were cut from the same cloth. Their twisted sense of pleasure was something Calista could never understand.
When Niamh saw Calista’s groveling posture, she waved and sent the latter out of her ward, but she never ceased grumbling. The gist of it was that her mood was spoiled by Calista.
Calista walked into the hallway and didn’t dare let out a weary sigh until the door closed. She could hear laughter echoing inside.
Brigid and Niamh were still talking about Lucien and Ophelia. As expected, everyone saw them as a perfectly matched couple.
“I deserved everything that came for me.” Calista pulled herself together and walked away from the ward.
She had just left the VIP ward section when she heard someone calling out to her from one of the wards.
That was how the rich were. They loved bossing people around just because they spent some money.
That said, Calista was already numbed to all of this.
“Mr. Finnegan, is there anything I can help you with?” She deliberately lowered her voice.
Eamon Finnegan snapped his financial magazine shut, and under Calista’s confused stare, rolled over with ease. It was a graceful motion until an indecent sight jolted into view, and Calista frantically took a step to the side.
“Um… Mr. Finnegan, what are you…”
“Change the dressing on my thigh,” Eamon said bluntly while smiling, almost as if he had been waiting for this day for a long time.
“I–I’m not a qualified nurse. Maybe I should get another…”
“No, you’re doing it for me,” he said again, his voice catching in his throat as if it was clogged with phlegm, sending a sickening
Chapter 44
feeling into Calista’s heart.
She remained standing where she was, but the old coot actually pitched a tent.
2/2
“I’ve had my eye on you for a few days now. If memory serves me right, you have a way with your hands.” As Eamon spoke, he fixed his eyes on Calista’s name tag on her chest, his gaze bold and unapologetic.
Calista felt a discomfort rise in her chest. She was about to refuse him, but a bill landed on her tray with a smack.
“Is this what you want?” Eamon was indeed a wealthy man, as evidenced by the Ebrean bill he gave her.
Calista did her best to smile as she responded. “I’m sorry, Mr. Finnegan. I really am not a qualified nurse. So, I’ll be getting the other nurses to help you out.”
Then, she put the bill back on his hospital bed.
“Step through the door, and I’ll immediately lodge an official complaint to the hospital. Ms. Marchand, it’s important to know what’s good for you if you want to get further in life.”
After delivering his so–called heartfelt advice, Eamon shoved his tube of ointment into Calista’s hands before shamelessly displaying his private part once more.
She clenched the bottle of ointment, petrified. Her mind drew a complete blank, and she couldn’t think rationally at all.
“You have one last second before I lose it. Do it now.” Eamon’s tone was still as unhurried as ever, but his deep voice was tinged with a hint of intimidation.
Calista wanted to say something, but she was met with his sharp, unforgiving glare. She averted her gaze, prepared herself for the worst, and walked over with trembling steps.
