Page 60 of Entrapped
Chapter 24
Thank God I had a bathroom in my office. As my pregnancy progressed, so did the nausea, becoming an unwelcome part of my daily routine. I hated vomiting with a passion, but there I was, hunched over the toilet for what felt like the third time today. I rinsed my mouth, trying to shake off the lingering queasiness, and stepped back into my office, only to find Vaughn sitting on the couch, waiting for me.
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice edged with irritation as I tried to mask the exhaustion in my tone.
“Something’s off with Colson,” Vaughn said, his expression serious.
I frowned, sinking into my chair. “What do you mean?” A knot of worry began to tighten in my chest.
“He doesn’t look good,” Vaughn replied, his concern genuine, not the usual irritation I expected when he talked about his father.
“He’s been working nonstop on the Harris Banking merger,” I reasoned, hoping to convince myself as much as Vaughn. “Late nights, little sleep. You know how he is.”
Vaughn ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “I’ve seen my father run on two hours of sleep and still command the boardroom like he had a full night. This is different.”
I sighed, the weight of his words pressing down on me. “He’s slowing down, Vaughn. He won’t be high-energy forever.”
“I want him to see his physician,” Vaughn insisted, his voice firm. “He won’t listen to me, but he might if you ask him.”
My stomach twisted with anxiety. Colson couldn’t be sick—not with a baby on the way and our future unfolding before us. “I’ll speak with him,” I promised, though my voice barely rose above a whisper.
Vaughn leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he pressed. “Now.”
“What’s the urgency?” I asked, feeling a cold dread creep up my spine.
“Because I was talking to him earlier, and he started nodding off in the middle of the conversation. He never does that, Joey. Something’s wrong.”
Panic started to claw at me as I stood, smoothing my skirt to disguise the tremor in my hands. “I’ll go see him,” I said, heading for the door. Vaughn followed closely behind.
“Do you think we should confront him together?” I asked, pausing just outside Colson’s office.
“I can wait outside,” Vaughn suggested, understanding the delicate situation. “He’s not a fan of being ganged up on.”
I nodded. “That would be best. You know how he gets.”
Despite the tension, Vaughn chuckled softly, a brief, shared acknowledgment of Colson’s stubbornness. His assistant nodded as I placed my hand on the door handle, pushing it open.
What I saw stopped my heart. Colson was sprawled on the floor, face down and motionless.
The scream stuck in my throat as Vaughn shoved past me, dropping to his knees beside his father. He turned Colson over, shaking him gently.
“Dad?” Vaughn’s voice cracked. “Call 911,” he barked, his tone sharp and urgent.
Everything blurred after that. My legs gave out, and I clutched the wall, barely able to keep myself from collapsing. The room spun as fear consumed me. My world was crashing down, and all I could do was cling to the hope that Colson would open his eyes.
The hospital waiting room was cold, the fluorescent lights too harsh, casting everything in an unforgiving glare. I sat in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, my hands clasped so tightly in my lap that my knuckles had gone white. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mixing with the pungent odor of fear that seemed to seep from my pores. Colson was somewhere behind those double doors, surrounded by doctors and machines, and I was powerless to do anything but wait.
I couldn’t stop shaking. Every nerve in my body was frayed, and the clock on the wall seemed to mock me with each relentless tick. How had it come to this? I replayed the events in my mind over and over, the way Vaughn had barged into my office, his concern clear as day, the way we’d found Colson sprawled on the floor, so lifeless and vulnerable.
“He’s strong,” I whispered to myself, trying to fill the silence with words of comfort, though they felt hollow. “He’ll be okay. He has to be.”
But my voice cracked, betraying the terror that was gnawing at my insides. The man I loved—God, I loved him more than I ever realized—was in that room, and there was nothing I could do but wait.
I pressed my hands to my face, feeling the warmth of my tears before I realized I was crying. The memories of how we got here—how he had charmed me, pursued me, convinced me to marry him—rushed to the forefront of my mind. He had hidden so much from me, had manipulated the situation to suit his needs. He’d made me fall for him under false pretenses, and yet, despite all of it, I couldn’t imagine my life without him.
How deep does love run when it’s tangled up in lies? I wondered, my thoughts spinning out of control.
A nurse in scrubs walked past me, and I shot up from my seat, my breath catching in my throat. “Please,” I begged, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Can you tell me anything? How is he?”
