Too late, ex wife. From Janitor to Tycoon

Chapter Nine

Vanessa stormed back to her office, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. Her chest heaved with anger, a tight, unrelenting pressure that made her fingers tremble slightly as she gripped the edge of her desk. She couldn’t believe it—Sam had the audacity to end the call on her, especially after everything, after hurting her mother.

Lisa tried to calm her, but she wouldn’t have it. With a sharp inhale of frustration, she slammed the door behind her and collapsed into the nearest chair, her body sagging as the weight of anger and exhaustion hit her all at once. Her fists clenched in her lap, and she let out a long, shaky breath, trying—and failing—to steady her racing thoughts.

Anger bubbled inside her, fierce and consuming. He’s damn lucky I’m not pressing charges already, she thought, her knuckles whitening as she clenched them. I’ll deal with him. He can’t just walk over me like this.

Even as thoughts of revenge swirled through her mind, another idea crept in, quiet but sharp, tugging at the corners of her lips. She allowed herself a small, sly smile, the kind that came from plotting something satisfying. Just then, her phone buzzed on the desk. Vanessa glanced at the screen and froze for a fraction of a second—Marcus Sullivan.

She smiled immediately letting go of all the anger inside.

Her fingers hovered above the screen for a moment before she picked up the call, her voice casual, almost teasing. “Well, if it isn’t Marcus Sullivan. What does the biggest CEO in town want with me this afternoon?”

There was a brief pause on the line before Marcus’s smooth, familiar voice came through. “He misses you.”

Vanessa’s grin widened, and she let herself lean back slightly, feeling a thrill run through her. “Oh, isn’t that lovely?” she replied, her tone dripping with mock sweetness.

“Of course,” Marcus said warmly. “I’d like to take you out tonight. After what you did for me today… I know your love is everlasting.”

Vanessa raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “What did I do?” she asked lightly, her curiosity and amusement mingling.

Marcus’s voice carried a teasing edge. “You dumped that good-for-nothing. Not that he deserves you anyway.”

Vanessa let out a soft laugh, the sound sharp with satisfaction. “Well, I did,” she said, her confidence deliberate and measured. “I’m moving on from trash. I want to be with someone befitting my status.”

Marcus chuckled softly. “Well, let me take you to dinner, then. Maybe we can discuss a vacation while we eat—and perhaps, I’ll just have such an appetite afterward,” he teased, the humor clear in his voice.

Vanessa laughed again, shaking her head. “Stop that. I’ll see you tonight, Marcus.”

“Of course,” he replied, and the call ended.

Vanessa leaned back in her chair, letting out a soft sigh. A small smile lingered on her lips, the brief distraction a welcome reprieve.

At least for a moment, she thought, I have something to take my mind off Sam—even if just for a beat. Yet even as she let herself breathe, her mind was already scheming. This wasn’t just about getting revenge on Sam—it was about ensuring that the next move, whatever it was, would leave her in control.

Meanwhile, at the hospital, the scene was far more chaotic. An ambulance had arrived and doctors were rushing to attend to Veronica, who lay sprawled across the gurney, wincing and groaning at every touch. The paramedics moved quickly, but she screamed at the slightest pressure, her voice high and insistent, drawing concerned looks from everyone nearby.

“What happened?” one of the doctors asked, his brow furrowed in concern as he checked the charts.

Elena stepped forward, her jaw tight, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to maintain composure. “My mother has been assaulted,” she said firmly, her tone clipped. Her gaze flicked to Veronica, who continued groaning in pain despite the medical attention she was receiving. It was exhausting to watch, the way her mother both insisted on being dramatic and truly suffered at the same time.

The doctors exchanged uneasy looks, whispering among themselves after examining her for a while.

“There are no visible bruises or marks to support the assault,” one murmured.

After carefully checking the monitors, the nurse spoke up, her voice calm but firm. “The vitals are stable,” she said, glancing briefly at Veronica before returning her attention to the screen.

Another one ran his fingers over the vitals and charted notes.

“Are we sure she isn’t stable and just faking this?” another doctor muttered under his breath, his tone laced with doubt.

Veronica’s voice rose immediately, cutting through the murmurs. “I am stable! Can’t you see I am in pain?” she shouted, waving her hands frantically, frustration and anger threading through every syllable.

Elena stepped closer, placing a hand gently on her mother’s arm, though Veronica flinched and pulled back. “If it weren’t serious, she wouldn’t be here,” Elena said sharply, addressing the medical staff with controlled frustration. “Please, don’t dismiss her suffering. Just because there are no visible bruises doesn’t mean there’s nothing wrong.”

The nurse shook her head gently, trying to calm both women. “Vitals are stable,” she said softly, though the tension in the room was palpable. “She’s not in immediate danger, but we’ll continue monitoring her.”

Veronica groaned again, pressing her hands to her stomach as if trying to hold herself together. “You don’t understand! It hurts, all of it. The pain—it’s unbearable!” Her voice cracked on the last word, raw and desperate, and for a moment, Elena felt her heart twist at the helplessness in her mother’s face.

Elena clenched her jaw, fighting the panic that rose within her. How can they just dismiss this? she thought. My mother is suffering, and they act like it’s nothing. This isn’t right. She shot a quick look at the doctors, her eyes narrowing with determination. “I won’t let her be ignored. You can record stable vitals all you want, but she’s in pain. She needs proper attention, not just charts and numbers.”

The doctors exchanged uneasy glances, clearly unsure how to respond. Veronica let out another sharp groan, her voice breaking as she pulled herself slightly upright on the gurney. “Do something!” she cried. “Please!”

Elena’s mind raced, torn between comforting her mother and trying to push the medical team into action. “We need a full assessment,” she said firmly, her voice unwavering. “Not just vitals. Check her thoroughly. Pain doesn’t always show on the surface.”

Veronica’s eyes flicked to her daughter, gratitude mingled with fear. “Elena… thank you,” she whispered hoarsely. “I feel like no one believes me…”

Elena squeezed her mother’s hand, forcing a reassuring smile. “I believe you,” she said softly, her own voice trembling slightly with the intensity of her emotions. “I’ll make sure they listen this time.”

The doctors turned to look at each other, uncertainty flickering across their faces. Neither seemed sure what to do next, their hands hovering over charts and monitors as if hesitation alone could solve the problem. The silence stretched, heavy with tension, and Elena’s frustration only deepened—how could trained professionals be so paralyzed in the face of someone clearly in pain?