PHILIP SCOTT: THE LOST HEIR

THE NEW BEGINNING

Philip wiped away his tears, bracing himself as he headed back to the ward where the nurse awaited. Her warm smile greeted him. “I hope all is good?” she inquired with genuine concern.

Seeing her kind face, Philip felt a brief uplift in his spirits. He forced a smile, masking the turmoil inside. “Yes, everything’s fine,” he replied, his voice steadier than he felt.

The nurse’s heart fluttered at his attempt to smile, and she became more attentive, eager to assist. “So, how may I help you?” she asked.

“We’d like to see my mother, as we mentioned earlier,” Philip said, a quirky smile playing on his lips.

The nurse nodded, gesturing towards the exact ward where Mrs. Scott was. Philip’s steps were heavy as he entered the room, which was filled with other elderly patients, each with their own stories etched in their faces. His mother, Mrs. Scott, lay among them, her face lighting up as she saw him.

“Hey, pumpkin,” she greeted, her smile broad despite the lingering pain from her treatments. She was visibly surprised to see him, given the recent news of his arrest.

“I’m okay, Mom,” Philip assured her, stepping closer to her bed.

“What happened? Is this real? Are you really here?” she asked, her voice trembling with both relief and disbelief as a cough escaped her lips.

Seeing her struggle, the nurse quickly moved to her side, gently holding her hands. “Ma’am, you don’t need to stress yourself. Let me take care of everything,” she said softly, trying to ease Mrs. Scott’s discomfort and shift Philip’s focus onto her. Her strategy worked; Philip’s smile widened at her words.

“How wonderful can you be?” Mrs. Scott said, gripping the nurse’s hands with gratitude. “You are God-sent,” she added.

“This is my son, Philip,” Mrs. Scott introduced.

“Oh, Philip, what a lovely name,” the nurse responded, casting a glance at him that held more than professional interest.

“He works at Lane Industries,” Mrs. Scott added proudly.

“Mom… Mom… I think that’s enough about me,” Philip interrupted gently, feeling a mix of embarrassment and affection. He took his mother’s other hand in his, his touch tender. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m okay. Not great, but I’m managing,” Mrs. Scott replied, her voice a mixture of strength and vulnerability.

“You’ll get better, Mom. I’m sure the nurse will take excellent care of you,” Philip said, trying to sound optimistic.

“When is her surgery scheduled?” he asked the nurse.

“Late afternoon,” she replied.

“Will you be here?” she asked Philip, her eyes hopeful.

“I think I—” Philip began.

“No, he won’t,” Mr. Scott interrupted, cutting off his son. The air grew tense as the three of them exchanged looks, the nurse sensing the underlying friction but not understanding its cause.

“We need a witness to sign some documents,” she said, trying to return to a professional demeanor.

“I’m her husband. I’ll sign them,” Mr. Scott stated firmly.

“Alright then,” the nurse replied, packing up her files, through her eyes lingered on Philip, as if waiting for something more. “If you need anything, I’ll be just outside,” she added, her gaze full of expectation.

As she turned to leave, Mrs. Scott motioned for Philip to follow her. “Hey… Hey,” Philip called out, catching up with the nurse in the hallway.

She turned, her eyes lighting up. “What’s your name?” Philip asked.

“Cecilia,” she replied, her voice soft but clear.

“Cecilia, could you do me a favor?” Philip asked, his tone serious with purpose.

“Of course, what is it?” she responded, eager to help.

“Take care of her for me? Really take care of her,” he pleaded, his eyes searching hers for reassurance.

“I will do my best,” Cecilia promised, her hand lightly brushing his as a gesture of comfort.

Philip wanted to say more, to express the surge of emotions inside him, but words failed him. The memory of Jessica, and the pain she caused, held him back from forming new connections. As he stood there, torn between past wounds and present hope, his father joined him.

“She’s pretty,” Mr. Scott commented, breaking the silence. “But not like Jessica. How is Jessica?” he added cautiously.

“She’s getting married… to someone else,” Philip replied, his voice strained. The silence that followed was heavy, Mr. Scott regretting his words, his face showing a mix of pain and apology.

“We’ll be alright,” Mr. Scott said finally. “She knows it all.”

“Thank you, Dad,” Philip replied, his voice softer now, filled with a calmness.

“Now, you need to make peace with your grandfather and promise me you’ll find whoever did this to your mother,” Mr. Scott said, his tone firm.

“I will, Dad,” Philip promised, embracing his father tightly, tears slipping from his cheeks onto Mr. Scott’s shoulder.

As Philip stood up to leave, the weight of the moment pressed heavily on him. He moved quickly, his emotions barely in check. He saw Cecilia again, coming from another room. She smiled and tried to greet him, but he turned away, unable to face her. She watched him go, puzzled and concerned.

Philip signaled to the bodyguard to open the car door. As he slid into the seat, the driver started the engine. The car pulled away, leaving behind the hospital, the ward, and Cecilia’s lingering gaze.

LANE’S OFFICE

Phone rings and Andrew Lane picks the phone.

“He just left the central hospital”A voice from the other side.

“Good, good”Andrew Lane Said.

“So what should we do to his mother?” the voice on the other side replied

“You do nothing yet”.