Chapter 3 Nightingale Bar

• The one answering the phone was Carol.
• "Where's my dad?" I asked coldly after a brief silent.
• "He's very happy today," she replied with a saccharine smile. "He drank a bit too much and is resting. Did you need something?"
• My grip tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white. "Let him take the call," I demanded.
• She laughed softly, her voice dripping with confidence. "You can tell me whatever you need to say. He won't take your call."
• I stood in the corridor, glancing into my mother's open hospital room, and tears welled up in my eyes.
• My father, without even finalising the divorce, was already celebrating his new marriage, refusing to even speak to me.
• I took a deep breath. "My mum needs surgery, it'll cost around thirty thousand dollars. Tell my dad when he wakes up."
• Her voice dripped with disdain. "You caused a scene at the wedding this afternoon, and now you come asking for money? Aren't you being unreasonable?"
• A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Carol, why don't you teach me how to be as shameless as you? My parents haven't even finalised their divorce, so what kind of wedding did you have?"
• She chuckled. "A divorce certificate, you say? Your dad got it the day before yesterday. You can come over and see it anytime. If it's inconvenient, I can send you a photo."
• I was stunned. The day before yesterday, my mother had been in a coma, and I had been by her side the entire time. There was no way they could have obtained a divorce certificate then.
• But as I opened my mouth to argue, I realised that with Richard's connections, getting a divorce certificate would be a simple matter.
• My heart sank, filled with a cold fury. I felt a deep sorrow for my mother.
• A wave of bitterness washed over me. "So," I said with a hollow laugh, "no matter what, you're not going to pay for it, are you?"
• "No, I won't, and neither will your dad," she replied without hesitation.
• A deep sadness washed over me, mingled with a strange sense of relief that my mother was still unconscious.
• If she were awake to face her husband's heartlessness and Carol's betrayal, the pain would be unbearable.
• Carol had been the daughter of my father's driver, a frequent guest in our home, practically living with us during summer and winter vacations.
• Pitying her for growing up in a single-parent household, my mother had always bought her clothes and shoes, ensuring she had everything I did.
• And this was the thanks she got—a viper we had nurtured in our own bosom.
• "Oh, and Jasmine, Henry was just using you to spite me today. Don't take it seriously," Carol added mockingly.
• I leaned against the wall, numb and disoriented. By the time I came to my senses, the call had already ended.
• Of course, Henry's intimacy had been an act.
• I sat by my mother's bedside. Gazing at her pale face, my heart heavy with worry.
• The Newton family's eldest daughter, once able to spend tens of thousands on a whim, was now struggling to find thirty thousand dollars. The irony of it all was suffocating.
• Just then, my phone rang. It was my best friend, Freya Johnston, asking me to meet her at the Nightingale Bar.
• I felt exhausted and didn't want to go, but she had just gone through a breakup, and I didn't want her to be alone in a place like that. Reluctantly, I agreed.
• I went to my mother's bedside to charge her phone before leaving to meet Freya.
• As I picked it up, I accidentally pressed the fingerprint unlock button and froze.
• The phone unlocked, revealing a WhatsApp chat with a photo of my father and Carol's wedding.
• My hands trembled as I scrolled up, finding even more intimate pictures.
• The sender was a friend added just this afternoon. There were no messages, only photos.
• The nurse's words about my mother's sudden breathing difficulties echoed in my mind, and a storm of anger and suspicion brewed within me.
• What was this person's purpose in sending these photos? To remind my mum of the betrayal, or to intentionally upset her?
• A chill ran down my spine as I worried about what else they might send to disturb her. I wanted to delete the contact, but hesitated, thinking my mum might know the sender.
• Instead, I left the phone at the nurse's station and rushed to the bar.
• Nightingale Bar was a notorious establishment in the city, known for its extravagant prices.
• When I found Freya, several empty bottles littered the table. Her cheeks were flushed, and she clung to me, slurring, "Jass, you're the best ... "
• I steadied her, wiping away her tear-streaked mascara. "How did you end up like this? Let's go home, okay?"
• She shook her head vehemently, pouring me a glass of wine. "Drink with me."
• I needed to vent too, so I took the glass and downed its contents in one gulp, tears stinging my eyes.
• Glass after glass, the alcohol numbed the pain in my heart, if only for a moment.
• I had come to console my friend, but I ended up just as drunk, barely able to walk straight.
• Exiting the restroom, I stumbled into a solid chest and mumbled a hasty apology. "S-sorry ... "
• The person staggered back, ignoring me.
• Instinctively, I looked up and caught sight of a familiar, chiselled jawline ...
• Henry? Was I so drunk that I was hallucinating?
• I shook my head, trying to clear the fogginess, and squinted to get a better look.
• It was indeed him, and he was clearly drunk.