From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 85

**Chapter 9**

The veil of sleep had draped over me for a full two days, a deep and unyielding slumber that cocooned me in an oppressive silence and darkness, as if the world outside had ceased to exist. It was a strange, dreamless abyss where time lost its meaning.

Suddenly, the tranquility shattered. I was jolted awake by a ruckus at the door, a cacophony that reverberated through the sterile confines of my hospital room. My eyelids felt heavy, weighted down as if burdened by the very essence of fatigue. Yet, amidst the fog of my drowsiness, a familiar voice pierced through the haze. It was Cedric, his frantic calls echoing like a desperate plea, reaching out to me across the void.

“Open the door! Please let me in!” he shouted, urgency lacing his every word. His voice, frantic and raw, cut through my lethargy like a knife, urging me to respond.

Outside, two imposing bodyguards, positioned there by Ewan, stood resolutely like sentinels, their presence a formidable barrier between Cedric and me. I could sense the tension thickening in the air, a palpable force that heightened the stakes of the moment.

“My wife is in there! Move aside!” he bellowed, his frustration palpable, echoing off the sterile walls.

With a monumental effort, I propped myself up against the pillows, my limbs heavy and uncooperative. I reached for the doorbell, pressing it with a trembling finger. The soft chime rang out, a lifeline in the chaos.

The bodyguards, alerted by the sound, cracked the door open, their expressions a mix of concern and professionalism. “He insists on seeing you,” one of them informed me, glancing back at Cedric, who stood there, a whirlwind of emotion.

I nodded, my voice barely a whisper, “Let him in.”

In an instant, the bodyguards stepped aside, and the door swung open. Cedric burst into the room, a tempest of emotion. He was clad in a thin shirt, his hair a chaotic mess, a stark contrast to the meticulously groomed man I once knew. It was clear he had rushed here, propelled by a sense of urgency that mirrored the turmoil within me.

He grasped my hand tightly, his grip almost desperate, his eyes shadowed by dark circles that spoke of sleepless nights and worry. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice strained, a mix of anger and concern flooding his features.

I pulled my hand away, turning my face as a wave of hurt washed over me. “I wanted to tell you,” I replied, bitterness lacing my tone. “The first time I discovered the truth, I found you with Fiona at her pregnancy check-up. I was holding the report, drowning in sadness and fear, and when I reached out to you, you brushed me aside like I was an inconvenience.”

“The second time, I kept trying to call you, hoping you would help me sign the consent form, but you had already blocked my number,” I continued, each memory piercing through the fog of my mind with painful clarity.

“The third time, I came to your office, desperate to speak with you face to face, but instead, you forced me to apologize to Fiona over a bottle of perfume that I didn’t even break.”

“Eventually, it became painfully clear that you despised me. You kept me around to inflict your torment, and as long as I was in pain, you found some twisted satisfaction.”

“Now, I’m at death’s door. Congratulations, Mr. Smith. You’re finally on the verge of getting what you always wanted.”

The atmosphere thickened with unspoken words as he stepped closer, guilt etched across his features, his eyes wide with realization.

“Nina, it’s all my fault! Everything is my fault!” he exclaimed, his voice trembling with remorse, a stark contrast to the anger that had filled the room moments before.

“Ewan visited me and laid bare the reasons behind your breakup with him and your subsequent marriage. I understand everything now,” he continued, his voice cracking. “Please, forgive me. I was selfish, immature.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. “I had no idea how much your family had suffered…” he trailed off, the weight of his ignorance settling between us.

Later, I would learn that during my unconscious state, Ewan had stormed into Cedric’s workplace, confronting him with a fury that left a mark. He had beaten Cedric in front of his colleagues, a scene that played out like a darkly poetic justice.

“He told me that you never truly loved him. He was willing to divorce you to fulfill your wishes. It’s me who owes you an apology,” Cedric added, desperation creeping into his voice.

“And remember this: my death will carry your mark upon it.”

“This is our final meeting. Although my time is short, I don’t wish to see your face during my last days. So, please, grant me this one last wish before I depart and keep your distance from me from now on.”

With my ultimatum delivered, I reached for the emergency bell beside my bed, pressing it firmly. The bodyguards rushed in, their expressions a mix of concern and readiness. “Please escort Mr. Smith out and ensure he doesn’t return,” I commanded, my voice unwavering, cutting through the tension like a blade.

At those words, I noticed Cedric visibly flinch, his entire demeanor crumbling under the weight of my decision.

In the aftermath of our confrontation, the silence in the room felt heavier than before, as if the very air was charged with the gravity of our shared past. Cedric’s face, once a canvas of urgency and hope, now reflected the stark reality of my rejection. I could see disbelief flicker in his eyes as he processed my words, the weight of my ultimatum settling heavily between us. The emotional arc of our relationship had reached its zenith, and I stood resolute in my decision, feeling both liberated and burdened by the finality of it all.

As he was escorted out, the cacophony of his pleas faded into the sterile walls of the hospital, leaving behind an echo of what could have been—a haunting reminder of love marred by betrayal and pain. With Cedric’s departure, a profound stillness enveloped me, allowing me to confront the depths of my own sorrow. No longer tethered to the tumultuous emotions he had stirred within me, I found solace in the clarity of my choice. The journey ahead was uncertain, yet it was mine to navigate, free from the shadows of a love that had once promised so much but delivered only heartache.

As I lay back against the pillows, the weight of exhaustion mingling with a flicker of hope, I realized that this was not just an ending, but a beginning—a chance to reclaim my narrative and seek the healing I so desperately needed. The storm behind me had finally quieted, leaving space for a new dawn to break.

**What to Expect in the Next Chapter?**

As we turn the page to Chapter 10, the emotional fallout from my confrontation with Cedric promises to reverberate through the narrative in profound ways. With the stark finality of my ultimatum echoing in the sterile hospital room, the stakes are higher than ever. Will Cedric respect my wishes, or will his desperation drive him to defy my boundaries? The tension between our past and present will undoubtedly shape the unfolding events, leaving readers on the edge of their seats as they anticipate the consequences of this pivotal moment.

Moreover, my health hangs precariously in the balance, and the looming surgery will serve as a catalyst for both personal growth and revelation. As I grapple with my feelings of betrayal and loss, will I find the strength to forgive, or will the bitterness of my circumstances consume me? The introduction of Ewan’s role in Cedric’s life adds another layer of complexity, hinting at potential alliances and confrontations that could reshape our intertwined fates. Expect a whirlwind of emotions, unexpected revelations, and perhaps a glimmer of hope as I navigate the storm brewing behind my closed eyes. The next chapter is poised to challenge our resolve and redefine our relationships, leaving readers eager to uncover what lies ahead.