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Chapter Fifty-Two
Last Updated:
2025-04-07 23:20:31
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Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Three
šš«ššš”šThe hospital air is coldātoo cold. It seeps through my skin and settles deep into my bones, making me feel like Iām walking through a fog. I sit on one of the stiff plastic chairs in the waiting area, hands clasped tightly in my lap. I mustāve checked the time on my phone a hundred times in the past hour, each glance bringing no new relief.Where are they? Why hasnāt anyone come out yet?I chew on the inside of my cheek, my mind replaying the accident in a relentless loop. The sickening thud of her body brushing the jeepās front grille, the sharp scream that tore from my lips, the way Alfie clutched my hand so tightly as we rushed out of the car. That little girlāso small, so fragileājust darting across like life was a game of tag.Iāve tried to breathe. Iāve tried to pray. Nothing sticks. I feel like Iām going to break apart, right here in this freezing corridor.Then I hear footsteps. Sharp. Hasty. Unforgiving.My eyes lift just in time to see a woman charging toward me
Last Updated : 2025-04-08Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Four
ššš«ššØš¬I stand rooted to the cold, polished hospital floor, my mind reeling as Arethaās words echo like a chime struck in the deepest part of me."I know very well what it feels like to lose a child."She says it so softly, so simply, like itās just another sentence in a long list of things that have happened to herābut it lands like a gut punch. I donāt move as she turns and walks away, her back straight, her head high, but her shouldersā¦ her shoulders tremble the slightest bit.Iāve seen death on the table. Iāve watched people code right in front of me, seen mothers scream over sons and children collapse into the arms of nurses. But this? This is different. This is the kind of pain that doesnāt bleed on the outside.The mother of the injured girl stands silently beside me, unsure nowāmaybe ashamed. Her anger drains the moment Aretha disappears around the corner. She says nothing more, just quietly returns to the waiting area, clinging to the hope I gave her minutes ago.I take
Last Updated : 2025-04-09Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Five
šš«ššš”šI wake up to the distinct scent of chamomile tea and the soft clinking of china. For a brief second, I think Iāve dreamt it all upāthe accident, the hospital, the motherās accusations, the kiss with Marcos. But when I open my eyes and see Mom standing at the foot of my bed, holding a tray while wearing her signature pinched expression of maternal concern, I know I didnāt.āAretha, darling,ā she says carefully, as though afraid she might shatter me if she speaks too loudly, āyou donāt have to go in today.āI sit up, blinking away the sleep from my eyes. āI do.āāYou shouldnāt.ā She sets the tray on my bedside table. āNot after everything yesterday. The media is going to be relentless. And emotionally, youāreāāāIām fine, Mom. Seriously. I appreciate your concern, though.āShe gives me a look that says sheās not convinced, but she knows me well enough not to argue. Still, she lingers while I get ready, watching me like Iām about to unravel. I offer a small smile and a kiss
Last Updated : 2025-04-10Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Six
ššš«ššØš¬Saturday afternoon stretches out before me like a question I don't quite have the answer to. I'm home, sitting at the edge of the leather sofa, phone in hand, thumb hovering over Aretha's contact.Should I text her? Call her? Ask how she's holding up?The memory of last night lingers. Her trembling voice. The kiss. That look in her eyes when she pulled away. Part fear, part need. And then, nothing. Silence since.I sigh and toss the phone onto the couch beside me, running both hands down my face. She's probably overwhelmed, dealing with press vultures and her family. The last thing she needs is me barging into her peaceāor what's left of it.A ping vibrates on my phone. Itās from Cameron: "Meeting at the club. 5PM sharp. Drinks on Nathaniel. Donāt be late."I almost laugh. Nathaniel probably didnāt even agree to that.ā¢ ā¢ ā¢The gentlemanās club isnāt as rowdy as usual. Rich men in tailored suits, cigars in one hand, arrogance in the other. Gold accents glint in the dim li
Last Updated : 2025-04-11Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Seven
šš«ššš”šItās just past 10 a.m. when my personal assistant, Winifred, bursts into my office, tablet in hand, eyes gleaming with the kind of enthusiasm that usually spells either disaster or a sudden stroke of genius. I look up from the contract Iāve been revising for the last twenty minutes, one brow lifting in silent question.āYouāre going to want to see this, Miss. Hawthorne,ā she says, practically skipping to my desk.āPlease tell me thatās not another scandal brewing,ā I mutter, half-joking. After the week Iāve had, I wouldnāt be surprised if someoneās unearthed some long-forgotten college photos or declared I secretly run a cult in my spare time.āQuite the opposite actually, Boss.ā Winnie swings the tablet around so I can see the analytics dashboard. āSales are up. Way up. Nearly thirty-two percent since yesterday. Online traffic has doubled since this morning alone. Andā¦ā she swipes to another page, āā¦our social sentiment index has shifted. Positively.āI blink at the numb
Last Updated : 2025-04-12Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Seven
šš«ššš”šI linger in the hallway for a while, staring at the half-open hospital door like itās a threshold to something Iām not ready to face. Inside, Marcus still plays with Florence, their laughter carrying softly into the corridor like a warm breeze on a cold day. My hand is frozen mid-air, inches from pushing the door open, but I justā¦ canāt.Not yet.My emotions are too jumbledāgrief, gratitude, guilt, and something dangerously close to longing. Seeing him like thatāsoft and unguardedāreminded me of a version of him I hadnāt allowed myself to imagine. Itās disarming. And itās why I turn away, intending to head back toward the elevators, maybe find a quiet place to gather myself.But as I turn, I nearly collide with someone.Sheās standing silently behind meāslender, in a wrinkled blouse and jeans, her coat draped hastily over one arm. Her hair is in a messy bun, strands falling loose around her tired but softened features. I recognize her immediately: the childās mother.She
Last Updated : 2025-04-13Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Nine
šš«ššš”šHis office is still the calm, neat space I remember, though now I notice how strikingly organized it is. The books on the shelf are arranged alphabetically, a soft lavender-scented diffuser hums in the corner, and a small bonsai tree sits by the window like a gentle sentinel. Thereās not a single paper out of place, every pen lined up with precision. Itās the kind of space that mirrors Marcus himselfācomposed, measured, and quietly meticulous.He closes the door behind me and gestures to the chair opposite his desk. I sink into it wordlessly as he moves around, taking his usual seat behind the desk and resting both hands on the surface like heās bracing for something heavier than an update.āFlorence is healing faster than expected,ā he begins. His voice is calm but firm, always steady. āHer vitals are stable, her scans are clean, and sheās responding well to treatment. If everything stays on track, she could be discharged by next weekend.āI close my eyes for a brief sec
Last Updated : 2025-04-14Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Sixty
šš«ššš”šI sit behind the wheel, fingers drumming restlessly against the steering. For the tenth time, I check the time on the dashboard. Sheās not lateānot really. But my nerves are a different story.At her insistence, todayās outing is to be strictly casual. No romance, no pressure, no expectations. I tried to pick the most un-date-like date imaginable. So, football. The one place people shout themselves hoarse, spill overpriced beer on each other, and wear matching jerseys without anyone batting an eye.Still, even with all the effort to keep things simple, Iām nervous. Because itās her.Then, I see her car pull into the lot.She steps out, and everything slows. Sheās wearing the team jersey Iād sent herāred and white, the same as mineāpaired with light blue jeans and white sneakers. Casual. Effortless. Gorgeous.She tosses me a small smirk as she approaches. āDonāt look so surprised, doctor. I do own casual clothes.āāYouāre sure youāre not secretly trying to outshine the pla
Last Updated : 2025-04-15
Latest chapter
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Sixty
šš«ššš”šI sit behind the wheel, fingers drumming restlessly against the steering. For the tenth time, I check the time on the dashboard. Sheās not lateānot really. But my nerves are a different story.At her insistence, todayās outing is to be strictly casual. No romance, no pressure, no expectations. I tried to pick the most un-date-like date imaginable. So, football. The one place people shout themselves hoarse, spill overpriced beer on each other, and wear matching jerseys without anyone batting an eye.Still, even with all the effort to keep things simple, Iām nervous. Because itās her.Then, I see her car pull into the lot.She steps out, and everything slows. Sheās wearing the team jersey Iād sent herāred and white, the same as mineāpaired with light blue jeans and white sneakers. Casual. Effortless. Gorgeous.She tosses me a small smirk as she approaches. āDonāt look so surprised, doctor. I do own casual clothes.āāYouāre sure youāre not secretly trying to outshine the pla
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Nine
šš«ššš”šHis office is still the calm, neat space I remember, though now I notice how strikingly organized it is. The books on the shelf are arranged alphabetically, a soft lavender-scented diffuser hums in the corner, and a small bonsai tree sits by the window like a gentle sentinel. Thereās not a single paper out of place, every pen lined up with precision. Itās the kind of space that mirrors Marcus himselfācomposed, measured, and quietly meticulous.He closes the door behind me and gestures to the chair opposite his desk. I sink into it wordlessly as he moves around, taking his usual seat behind the desk and resting both hands on the surface like heās bracing for something heavier than an update.āFlorence is healing faster than expected,ā he begins. His voice is calm but firm, always steady. āHer vitals are stable, her scans are clean, and sheās responding well to treatment. If everything stays on track, she could be discharged by next weekend.āI close my eyes for a brief sec
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Seven
šš«ššš”šI linger in the hallway for a while, staring at the half-open hospital door like itās a threshold to something Iām not ready to face. Inside, Marcus still plays with Florence, their laughter carrying softly into the corridor like a warm breeze on a cold day. My hand is frozen mid-air, inches from pushing the door open, but I justā¦ canāt.Not yet.My emotions are too jumbledāgrief, gratitude, guilt, and something dangerously close to longing. Seeing him like thatāsoft and unguardedāreminded me of a version of him I hadnāt allowed myself to imagine. Itās disarming. And itās why I turn away, intending to head back toward the elevators, maybe find a quiet place to gather myself.But as I turn, I nearly collide with someone.Sheās standing silently behind meāslender, in a wrinkled blouse and jeans, her coat draped hastily over one arm. Her hair is in a messy bun, strands falling loose around her tired but softened features. I recognize her immediately: the childās mother.She
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Seven
šš«ššš”šItās just past 10 a.m. when my personal assistant, Winifred, bursts into my office, tablet in hand, eyes gleaming with the kind of enthusiasm that usually spells either disaster or a sudden stroke of genius. I look up from the contract Iāve been revising for the last twenty minutes, one brow lifting in silent question.āYouāre going to want to see this, Miss. Hawthorne,ā she says, practically skipping to my desk.āPlease tell me thatās not another scandal brewing,ā I mutter, half-joking. After the week Iāve had, I wouldnāt be surprised if someoneās unearthed some long-forgotten college photos or declared I secretly run a cult in my spare time.āQuite the opposite actually, Boss.ā Winnie swings the tablet around so I can see the analytics dashboard. āSales are up. Way up. Nearly thirty-two percent since yesterday. Online traffic has doubled since this morning alone. Andā¦ā she swipes to another page, āā¦our social sentiment index has shifted. Positively.āI blink at the numb
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Six
ššš«ššØš¬Saturday afternoon stretches out before me like a question I don't quite have the answer to. I'm home, sitting at the edge of the leather sofa, phone in hand, thumb hovering over Aretha's contact.Should I text her? Call her? Ask how she's holding up?The memory of last night lingers. Her trembling voice. The kiss. That look in her eyes when she pulled away. Part fear, part need. And then, nothing. Silence since.I sigh and toss the phone onto the couch beside me, running both hands down my face. She's probably overwhelmed, dealing with press vultures and her family. The last thing she needs is me barging into her peaceāor what's left of it.A ping vibrates on my phone. Itās from Cameron: "Meeting at the club. 5PM sharp. Drinks on Nathaniel. Donāt be late."I almost laugh. Nathaniel probably didnāt even agree to that.ā¢ ā¢ ā¢The gentlemanās club isnāt as rowdy as usual. Rich men in tailored suits, cigars in one hand, arrogance in the other. Gold accents glint in the dim li
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Five
šš«ššš”šI wake up to the distinct scent of chamomile tea and the soft clinking of china. For a brief second, I think Iāve dreamt it all upāthe accident, the hospital, the motherās accusations, the kiss with Marcos. But when I open my eyes and see Mom standing at the foot of my bed, holding a tray while wearing her signature pinched expression of maternal concern, I know I didnāt.āAretha, darling,ā she says carefully, as though afraid she might shatter me if she speaks too loudly, āyou donāt have to go in today.āI sit up, blinking away the sleep from my eyes. āI do.āāYou shouldnāt.ā She sets the tray on my bedside table. āNot after everything yesterday. The media is going to be relentless. And emotionally, youāreāāāIām fine, Mom. Seriously. I appreciate your concern, though.āShe gives me a look that says sheās not convinced, but she knows me well enough not to argue. Still, she lingers while I get ready, watching me like Iām about to unravel. I offer a small smile and a kiss
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Four
ššš«ššØš¬I stand rooted to the cold, polished hospital floor, my mind reeling as Arethaās words echo like a chime struck in the deepest part of me."I know very well what it feels like to lose a child."She says it so softly, so simply, like itās just another sentence in a long list of things that have happened to herābut it lands like a gut punch. I donāt move as she turns and walks away, her back straight, her head high, but her shouldersā¦ her shoulders tremble the slightest bit.Iāve seen death on the table. Iāve watched people code right in front of me, seen mothers scream over sons and children collapse into the arms of nurses. But this? This is different. This is the kind of pain that doesnāt bleed on the outside.The mother of the injured girl stands silently beside me, unsure nowāmaybe ashamed. Her anger drains the moment Aretha disappears around the corner. She says nothing more, just quietly returns to the waiting area, clinging to the hope I gave her minutes ago.I take
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Three
šš«ššš”šThe hospital air is coldātoo cold. It seeps through my skin and settles deep into my bones, making me feel like Iām walking through a fog. I sit on one of the stiff plastic chairs in the waiting area, hands clasped tightly in my lap. I mustāve checked the time on my phone a hundred times in the past hour, each glance bringing no new relief.Where are they? Why hasnāt anyone come out yet?I chew on the inside of my cheek, my mind replaying the accident in a relentless loop. The sickening thud of her body brushing the jeepās front grille, the sharp scream that tore from my lips, the way Alfie clutched my hand so tightly as we rushed out of the car. That little girlāso small, so fragileājust darting across like life was a game of tag.Iāve tried to breathe. Iāve tried to pray. Nothing sticks. I feel like Iām going to break apart, right here in this freezing corridor.Then I hear footsteps. Sharp. Hasty. Unforgiving.My eyes lift just in time to see a woman charging toward me
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Two
šš«ššš”šThe mall is buzzing with energy as Alfie and I walk hand-in-hand past the storefronts, our steps matching in rhythm. Heās practically bouncing beside me, excitement fizzing off him like a shaken soda.āI want to check out the new Nintendo games!ā he exclaims, tugging my arm like heās trying to drag me there himself.I laugh, adjusting my sunglasses as I glance around. āWeāll get there, little man. Letās start with shoes first. Youāve outgrown yoursāyour toes are probably screaming.āāMy toes are fine,ā he mutters dramatically, but he doesn't protest when I guide him into the kidsā footwear store.He slips onto a little bench as the attendant brings options in his size. I sit beside him, watching his nose wrinkle as he examines a pair of lime green sneakers.āThese are loud,ā he declares. āLike, even the birds would hear me coming.āI snort. āIsnāt that the point? So the entire house can hear when you try to sneak cookies after bedtime?āHe flashes me a mischievous grin. ā
