25 Chapter 25–A Matriarch’s Ploy and a Painful Encounter
25 Chapter 25 – A Matriarch’s Ploy and a Painful Encounter
“Nothing exciting,” I said. “Just work.”
I froze. That voice–I would know it anywhere. Mrs. Dubois.
“Better now that you’re both here.” She patted the bed beside her. “Sit, sit. Tell me about your day.”
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I sighed. As much as I wanted to maintain boundaries with Arthur, I couldn’t ignore his grandmother. She was the only person in his family who had shown me genuine kindness.
I glanced at Arthur in surprise. He’d said that about me?
“She’s asking for you,” the doctor said with an apologetic smile. “And your wife.”
Arthur stepped closer, curiosity overcoming his detachment. “You never mentioned knowing the Dubois family, Grandmother.”
“At Sterling Group, yes? Arthur tells me you’re quite intelligent.”
Fiona’s expression soured. “Why would you want to see her? She hasn’t visited you in
months.”
Something in his chest lightened at those three simple words. She was coming, despite their agreement to maintain distance. Despite his abrupt message. Despite everything.
His phone chimed with Elara’s message: “On my way.”
Tfought to keep my expression neutral as I scrolled through the data. This was precisely the kind of challenge I lived for, but showing too much enthusiasm might raise suspicions. I needed to be careful–Dr. Wilson couldn’t suddenly appear in the
form of Elara Dubois.
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“She’s claiming chest pains. The doctors say it’s nothing serious, but she’s insisting on seeing you.”
I frowned. No please, no explanation–just a command. Typical Arthur. I was about to ignore it when a follow–up message arrived.
“You should call Elara,” Mrs. Dubois said suddenly. “Tell her I’m here. She might want to visit.”
The problem on my screen was complex but familiar. I’d seen variations of it before in my private research. The equations stretched across multiple screens, a tangled web of variables and constants that had apparently stumped Sterling Group’s brightest minds for a month.
“Half–sister,” Fiona corrected venomously. “And barely that.”
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. “I suspected as much.”
I turned to follow her gaze and felt my heart skip. Mrs. Dubois was being wheeled to a car, Fiona hovering beside her. Even from this distance, the resemblance between them was striking–the same delicate features, the same graceful hands.
Ms. Genevieve stepped closer, her hand on Fiona’s shoulder. “Your mother needs rest, dear, not upset. We should go.”
I perched on the edge of her bed while Arthur remained standing, his posture rigid.
I stared at her. “You know Mrs. Dubois?”
“She doesn’t know I’m unwell,” Mrs. Dubois defended. “I asked you not to tell her.”
“I merely mentioned that she solved a problem today that had stumped one of our teams,” he clarified, looking uncomfortable.
Fiona laughed bitterly. “Job? You mean marriage. She trapped some rich fool and now she’s too good for us.”
“How are you really feeling?” I asked her.
Arthur paced the hospital corridor, irritation evident in every step. His grandmother had played him–again.
Old Mrs. Sterling’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Providence works in mysterious ways,
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dear boy.”
As the office emptied, I continued working, refining my solution. I could submit it now, but that might seem too remarkable. Better to let them think it took me all weekend.
He nodded. “Big plans with the girlfriend. You making progress?”
“The doctor says it’s nothing serious,” Mrs. Dubois continued, her voice weary. “Just
needs to rest more.”
“My grandmother is asking for you. She’s at Oceanside Hospital. Come if you can.”
My phone buzzed with a message. Arthur.
“I remember!” she exclaimed. “She’s your mother!”
Their lunch earlier had been… unexpected. She’d been composed, intelligent, even witty. Nothing like the calculating gold–digger he’d initially pegged her as. And hearing that she’d defended him to Caleb–that had stirred something in him he wasn’t ready
to examine.
Old Mrs. Sterling’s eyes were wide, a strange light in them as she looked at me,
back at the window where Mrs. Dubois had been.
then
I dug my nails into my palms. That wasn’t true. I’d left to protect Mrs. Dubois from Fiona’s manipulations and Ms. Genevieve’s cruelty. I still called her every week–calls that increasingly went unanswered.
I smiled. “Have a good one.”
My heart ached at the sight of Mrs. Dubois. She looked thinner than when I’d last seen her, her skin paler. I longed to step forward, to ask how she was feeling, but I knew my presence would only upset her. Fiona had made sure of that.
“Come, mother,” Fiona said, helping Mrs. Dubois to her feet. “Let’s get you back to your
room.”
“Dr. Morrison insisted,” Mrs./Dubois replied. “He’s the best pulmonologist in the city.”
Movement at the garden entrance caught his eye. A woman with chestnut hair and a straight, proud posture–Elara. She’d arrived much sooner than he’d expected. The
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sight of her sent an unwelcome flutter through his stomach.
“Mr. Sterling?” The doctor approached, chart in hand. “Your grandmother’s tests are all normal. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with her heart.”
Taking a deep breath, I composed myself and headed into the hospital. Old Mrs. Sterling was waiting, and I couldn’t afford to appear emotional.
I saved my work one last time and shut down the computer. The solution would wait until Monday.
I paused to admire a bed of daffodils, allowing their cheerful yellow faces to lift my spirits before facing whatever drama awaited with Old Mrs. Sterling.
By late afternoon, I had a working solution. Not my best work–deliberately so–but enough to solve their immediate problem.
I remained hidden until they disappeared into the hospital, then leaned against a tree, fighting back tears. Seeing Mrs. Dubois so frail had shaken me more than I’d expected. She was the only one who had ever shown me real kindness in that house, and now I couldn’t even comfort her.
Careful not to make a sound, I stepped behind a large rhododendron bush. Through the branches, I could see Mrs. Dubois sitting on a bench, Fiona beside her. Their nanny, Ms. Genevieve, stood nearby.
Old Mrs. Sterling squinted, studying Mrs. Dubois intently as the orderly helped her into the car. “Beatrice Hayes,” she murmured. “I knew her years ago.”
“Just a little spell,” she said, patting my hand. “Nothing to worry about. These doctors are all fuss and no substance.”
Old Mrs. Sterling was sitting up in bed, looking perfectly healthy and extremely. pleased with herself. “My dear girl! You came!” She held out her arms to me.
“On my way,” I texted back.
The hospital garden was a shortcut from the parking structure, and I was grateful for the moment of peace it offered. Hospitals always brought back difficult memories–my childhood visits to Mrs. Dubois, the smell of antiseptic, the beeping machines.
He checked his watch. Friday evening rush hour–it would take her at least forty minutes to get here from the office. He should use the time to work, but instead found
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25 Chapter 25–A Matriarch’s Ploy and a Painful Encounter
himself staring out the window at the hospital garden below, wondering why he felt so unsettled by the thought of seeing her again.
Arthur frowned. This was becoming a problem.
“You’re here sooner than expected,” he said.
The barb was meant for me, I knew. Little did Fiona realize that I–as Dr. Wilson–had saved their family business from bankruptcy. The irony would be delicious if it weren’t so painful.
She waved a dismissive hand. “What do they know? I felt a twinge.”
“She looks just like you,” Old Mrs. Sterling remarked, surprising me.
The doctor nodded and walked away, leaving Arthur to resume his pacing. His grandmother was transparent in her matchmaking efforts, but he couldn’t bring himself to confront her. Not when she used her health as leverage.
“Beatrice Hayes,” she repeated, more firmly this time. “That’s her maiden name. Before she married that fool Alistair Dubois.” She continued to watch as the car pulled away. “We were at school together, many years ago.”
Despite myself, I smiled and went to her, accepting her embrace. “Of course I came. Arthur said you weren’t feeling well.”
“That’s my… that’s Mrs. Dubois,” I said, stumbling over the words. “The woman who
raised me.”
Fiona sighed dramatically. “I don’t know why we need to come all the way here when you have doctors at home.”
“Listen to Genevieve,” Mrs. Dubois said. “I’ll be fine. The doctor just wants to run a few
more tests.”
“Enough, Fiona.” Mrs. Dubois’s voice held a rare note of firmness. “I won’t have you speaking ill of your sister.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Dubois smiled faintly. “He saved our company with his patents. Such a
brilliant mind.”
“Some,” I said vaguely. “I think I’m onto something, but it’s not finished.”
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“If only Dr. Wilson were here,” Fiona said, her tone suddenly honeyed. “He’d know exactly what to do.”
“A convenient twinge on the exact day you told me to bring Elara to dinner,” Arthur. noted dryly.
A movement outside the window caught her attention. “Oh, look at that poor woman.
So frail.”
“Didn’t I?” Old Mrs. Sterling seemed distracted, her eyes still fixed on the departing car. Then she gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “Oh!”
“Always so modest about his praise,” Old Mrs. Sterling confided to me with a wink. “He gets that from his grandfather.”
As Ian walked away, I immersed myself in the equations. Minutes turned to hours as I worked, carefully constructing a solution that would fix their issue without revealing
my
full expertise. I made deliberate “mistakes” that I would later correct–a strategy to make my process seem more natural.
I saved my progress and stretched, glancing at the clock. It was nearly five. Most people were packing up for the weekend, Ian included.
“My wife isn’t-” Arthur caught himself. “She’s on her way.”
“I took a shortcut through the garden,” I replied, not meeting his eyes.
I nodded, already mapping the problem in my mind. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Heading out?” I asked as he passed my desk.
“Take your time,” Ian said, though his tone suggested he didn’t expect much. “No one’s solved this yet.”
“Because you’re always protecting her!” Fiona snapped. “She’s ungrateful, mother. After everything you’ve done for her, she walked away without a backward glance.”
My ears perked up at the mention of my alter ego.
I bit back a smile. The old woman was transparent in her matchmaking, but I couldn’t help admiring her determination.
“Grandmother?” Arthur was at her side instantly. “What is it?”
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“And he never asked for anything in return,” Fiona added. “Unlike some people who take and take.”
“She’s always been stubborn,” a familiar voice said nearby.
“Well, don’t stay too late. Even the CEO’s wife deserves a weekend.” His tone was lighter than before, almost friendly.
Arthur crossed his arms. “The doctors say there’s nothing wrong with you at all,
Grandmother.”
Arthur was still at the window when I entered Old Mrs. Sterling’s private room. He turned, surprise flickering across his features before his expression smoothed back to cool detachment.
“She’s been busy with her new job,” Mrs. Dubois said softly.
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