DEVASTATING NEWS

 

A dull, thumping noise at the front door wakes me from a deep sleep. I struggle to open my eyes, I’m exhausted and a little disoriented when I prop myself up on my elbows to look around the room. My bedroom? Then it all sinks in.

I take a moment to focus on the clock, it’s only 05:35am.

Who the hell is knocking at this time of the morning?

My belly churns. Max? But I’m not ready to have a full blown argument with him yet. Not before at least two coffees and a hot shower.

The thumping continues so I haul myself out of bed and shuffle to the front door.

“Go away!”

“Miss Vivienne? It’s Vinnie.”

“Oh.” Unlocking the door, I open it a couple of inches. “Vinnie? What are you doing here? I’m not coming back, so if you’re trying to—”

“Can I come in, Miss?” His voice is laced with an edgy restlessness so I open the door. The expression on his face strikes me with fear.

Has something happened to Max? My hands begin to tremble. Whatever it is, he’s not here with good news.

“Erm, do you want some tea?” I don’t know why I asked, maybe for something to do, I’m starting to feel very nervous.

“It’s Charlie… He’s in a coma.”

“What?” I’m relieved Max is unharmed, but my relief is outweighed by the startling news that Charlie’s in a coma. My stomach tightens as my conflicted feelings put a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.

“You should get dressed, Miss. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

“What?… Oh, yes. I won’t be a minute.”

Hurrying to my room, I throw on some clothes, then quickly brush my teeth and grab my bag.

I sit up front with Vinnie. Just before he pulls away from the kerb, I notice he acknowledges someone in a black Range Rover on the opposite side of the road. It’s John, the bodyguard.

“Has he been there all night?”

He couldn’t get me to go with him so it would appear he’s had to stay in his car all night, watching over me. I’ll bet my name’s mud right now.

“Yes, Miss. Jan called me last night to tell me you’d run off, and that Monica had chucked her out of the penthouse. Cheeky cow.” His grip tightens on the steering wheel.

Looking out of the rear window, I see John following us.

“Vinnie, what the fuck’s going on?”

He takes a deep breath, exhaling a long, weary sigh. He looks like he hasn’t slept for a month.

“When we got back a couple of hours ago, the door to F1 was wide open. Charlie was unconscious in his bed, Monica was gone, and the safe had been emptied.”

“What?” If I was half asleep before, I’m wide awake now. “I didn’t even know there was a safe.”

He turns to face me with a cocked eyebrow. “Even if you did, Miss, you’d be the last person to steal from Mr. Foxx.”

“I… I’m confused. Did someone break in?”

His face becomes hard as his eyes slide back to the road ahead.

“No. It was Monica. She took the money and left Charlie for dead.”

I can almost hear him grinding his teeth as his jaw pulses with anger.

“And I swear to God. If I ever get my hands on that evil bitch, I’ll wring her fucking neck.”

I sag into the back of my seat. How could she do that to poor Charlie? Why would she do that? As my brain filters the information, my initial shock becomes rage.

“You and me both. I knew she was up to something, Vinnie. I just knew it.”

Pulling into the hospital grounds, he drives up to the main entrance. The black Range Rover parks nearby.

“I’ll wait here, Miss. They’re on the fifth floor, room number nine.”

“Vinnie…did you know Max had attacked Mike, my ex?”

His expression gives him away. “Yeah… I know. I tried to talk him out of it, but he’s very protective of the ones he loves.”

“But Mike had nothing to do with—”

“I know, Miss. You’re right.” His soft eyes flick up to mine as he gently pats my hand in a fatherly way. “After everything that’s happened recently, my money’s on Monica.”

We exchange a knowing look then he takes my hand in his, looking me in the eye, his expression cautious, making me nervous.

“He’s taking this very hard, Miss. He’s not… He’s not very good at dealing with this kind of thing.” His eyes trail over my face, trying to gauge my reaction. I softly nod to let him know I understand. Max dealt with his parents’ death by punishing himself, but surely this is different.

Leaving the car, I walk into the hospital with a heavy heart.

Fern Ward is deathly quiet apart from a soft, constant beeping noise that grows in volume as I reach room number nine.

Looking through the small window, I see Charlie’s lifeless body in the hospital bed, surrounded by machines and tubes protruding from his mouth and arms. He looks so tiny and vulnerable.

Max is sitting in a chair at the side of his bed holding Charlie’s tiny little hand. He’s still wearing the suit I saw him in yesterday morning. His head, bowed in defeat and fatigue, and even though I can’t see his eyes, I know he’s completely destroyed. My heart cries out for them both.

As I enter the room, Max looks up with tortured, red-rimmed eyes. Any anger I still felt about what he’d done to Mike, disappears at the sight of him as his eyes emit a silent plea for me to release him from the pain he’s suffering. I wish with all my heart that I could.

Standing behind his chair, I lean down to drape my arms around his shoulders. Kissing him on his temple, I rest my chin on his shoulder and stare at Charlie. The beeping monitors and the gentle rhythmic sound of the ventilator breathing for him, are the only sounds in the room.

Max reaches up with his free hand, wipes a tear from his cheek then clasps his hand around mine, squeezing tightly, almost painfully.

Tears brim over my lashes. I can’t speak for the strangling lump in my throat so I just hold on to him tightly.

The door swings open. Doctor Alexander enters with papers in his hand and a grave expression on his face.

“Ah, Vivienne. I’m glad you’re here.”

I straighten up, still holding Max’s hand, and move around to his side. Max looks up at Doctor Alexander with fear in his eyes.

The doctor’s kindly face is sullied with a deep frown. “I have some of Charlie’s test results… I have to say, I’m extremely confused.”

Neither of us speaks so the doctor continues.

“Charlie doesn’t have Leukaemia… In fact, he doesn’t present any markers for cancer of any description.”

Max and I stare at him. Both of us shocked at his statement. Both of us unable to respond.

Dropping my hand, Max kisses, then releases Charlie’s hand, then stands up to face the doctor who regards Max with a certain amount of wariness.

“I know this must come as a bit of a shock to you both, but I’m—”

Max interrupts him by taking a threatening step forward. I’m surprised at how rigid and tense his body is, and the anger in his eyes is clearly alarming the doctor.

Almost through gritted teeth, Max confronts him. “He’s been diagnosed with Leukaemia by the best doctors in the U.S.”

He nods, offering an understanding smile. “Mr. Foxx, I realise that’s what you’ve been told by the child’s mother. She told me the same thing when I visited Charlie at your home. But I can assure you, it’s indisputable, your information is incorrect.”

Max balls both hands into tight fists, taking another threatening step toward him. On impulse, I grab his arm pulling him back.

“Max… Did you actually speak to these doctors in the States?” I ask the question, but in my heart I already know the answer.

Turning to face me, his eyes are wide and incredulous. “No. But Monica told me. She said…” he trails off. The realisation slowly playing out on his face, his eyes blinking rapidly in disbelief. “Why would she lie?”

Doctor Alexander closes the distance, handing the test results to Max who takes them in his shaking hands. “I’ve run the tests twice. I’m sorry. But it’s not Leukaemia.”

Like a broken man, Max stares down open-mouthed at the documents before him.

Levelling my eyes on the doctor, I ask the obvious question. “Then…why is he in a coma?”

His harried smile and hesitation make me swallow nervously.

“We’ve sent tissue samples to the leading toxicologist, Doctor Howard. We’re also waiting for the results that will identify the residue found in the blue beaker and the syringe found in his room. But even without those results, I and my colleagues strongly believe that Charlie has sustained profound and prolonged poisoning.”

The blue beaker? Fuck! I was right.

“We believe Charlie’s been systematically poisoned over a long period of time. At this point, we can only assume that the amount of toxin administered this time has tipped the balance.”

Doctor Alexander lowers his eyes, shifting restlessly on his feet, then his sad eyes travel over to Max. “Charlie’s organs are failing and his brain activity is dangerously low.”

The room becomes silent.

I feel sick to my stomach. I can’t believe it. I’d been suspicious of her but I can’t believe Monica would do that to her own son.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling cry chills me to the bone. The sheets of paper fall from Max’s hands as he staggers back, collapsing into the chair. Leaning forward, holding his head in his hands, he weeps.

The doctor takes a hesitant step toward him but stops short. “I’m sorry. I know this must be very difficult to hear, but we will do everything in our power to save Charlie.”

Reaching out to him, I squeeze his arm. “Thank you, doctor. We know you will.”

A ghost of a smile twitches across his lips but the sadness and resignation in his eyes says it all. He leaves us alone with the devastating news.

Max looks up at me with soulless eyes. Shock and despair etching a dark shadow across his face. “How could I have let this happen?”

My heart breaks. Crawling into his lap, I hug him with everything I’ve got, trying to control the devastation eating away at me.

“Max. You didn’t do this. She did.”

He pulls back to look at me. Raw emotion burns in his eyes. He looks so vulnerable.

“You tried to warn me about her, and I didn’t listen. Christ! I should have fucking listened!” Leaning his forehead into mine, clearly struggling to cope with his emotions, he whispers something that chills me to the bone. “I’ll never forgive myself if he dies.”

His words strike me with fear. If his past is anything to go by this will crush him. Anything out of his control is like a form of weakness. Failure. From what I’ve learnt about Max, he’ll take it out on himself with ruthless measure.

Holding his face between my palms, I try to gain eye contact. “This isn’t your fault, Max.” Finally, our eyes meet, his sad blue eyes shrouded in pain. The weight of his grief casting a dark shadow across his face.

“…He’s not mine.”

He speaks so quietly, I hardly understand what he’s saying. “What?”

“He’s not mine… He’s Cole’s son.”

I stare at him in disbelief. I surely didn’t hear him correctly?

A tear clings to his lower lash before dripping off and trickling down his cheek. “The doctor ran a paternity test. Charlie’s not mine.”

I search his saddened eyes then lower my head. Looking at his tortured face any longer is too painful. My emotions bubble up to the surface like a volcano, spewing tears and sobs of regret. Wrapping my arms around him, burying my face in his neck, we cry, holding on to each other for dear life.