CHAPTER 13

I broke down in tears, I don't know how to deal with the pain and anger that was consuming me. All I wanted was answers to so many questions.

As Dr. Ryan carried me out of the control room, I was still sobbing uncontrollably.

I felt like my world had been shattered into a million pieces. My mother, who had been recovering so well, was now gone, and it seemed like someone might have had a hand in her death.

As we walked down the corridor, I saw a familiar figure approaching my mother's private room.

It was Mrs. Jenkins, I had told her to go home and prepare something for my mother to eat, since she had said she was hungry. I was sure she didn't know what was going on.

Mrs. Jenkins was carrying a lunch box in her hands, and her face looked concerned. She had been like a mother to me, always caring and nurturing.

I felt a pang of sadness, knowing that she would be devastated by the news of my mother's passing.

Dr. Ryan gently set me down on a chair in the corridor, and I watched as Mrs. Jenkins entered my mother's room. I felt a surge of emotions, knowing that she would soon find out what had happened.

"Mrs. Jenkins," I whispered, trying to call out to her. But my voice was hoarse from crying, and she didn't hear me.

Dr. Ryan put his hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me. "Let's get you out of here, Aries," he said softly. "We'll deal with this later."

But I shook my head, my eyes fixed on the door to my mother's room. I needed to tell Mrs. Jenkins what had happened.

I needed to prepare her for the shock that was about to hit her.

I stood up, my legs trembling beneath me. Dr. Ryan tried to hold me back, but I pushed him away. I needed to do this. I needed to tell Mrs. Jenkins the truth.

I took a deep breath and walked towards the door, my heart heavy with grief. I pushed the door open and saw Mrs. Jenkins sitting beside my mother's bed, the lunch box still in her hands.

"Mrs. Jenkins," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

As I entered the room, Mrs. Jenkins looked up at me with concern etched on her face. "Aries, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle.

I took a deep breath, trying to find the words to tell her what had happened. "Mrs. Jenkins," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "My mother...she's gone."

Mrs. Jenkins' expression changed from concern to confusion.

"What do you mean, Aries?" she asked, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for my mother. "Where is she?"

I felt a lump form in my throat as I looked at the empty bed. "She's not here," I said, my voice cracking. "She's...she's dead."

Mrs. Jenkins' eyes widened in shock, and she looked at me as if I was speaking a language she couldn't understand.

"No, Aries," she said, shaking her head. "That can't be right. I just brought her lunch."

She looked down at the lunch box in her hands, and then back at the empty bed. Her eyes filled with tears, and she whispered, "But where is she?"

I felt a wave of grief wash, I looked at Mrs. Jenkins. She had been like a mother to me, and now she was suffering the same pain I was.

I walked over to her and hugged her tightly, trying to comfort her.

"She's gone, Mrs. Jenkins," I whispered, my voice muffled against her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

Mrs. Jenkins held me tightly, her body shaking with sobs. We stood there for a moment, holding each other and mourning the loss of my mother.

Then, Mrs. Jenkins pulled back and looked at me with tears streaming down her face.

"What happened, Aries?" she asked, her voice shaking. "How did this happen?"

I took a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain. But before I could say anything, Dr. Ryan entered the room, his face somber.

"Mrs. Jenkins, I'm so sorry," he said, his voice soft. "We'll need to talk about what happened later. But for now, let's just take care of Aries."

Mrs. Jenkins nodded, still crying, and hugged me again. I felt a sense of comfort with her arms around me, but I knew that nothing could take away the pain of losing my mother.

As I fell down on the ground, still trying to process the news of my mother's passing, Mrs. Jenkins gently took me by the arm and led me out of the room.

She sat me down on a chair, her eyes filled with compassion and concern. I broke down in sobs, unable to contain my emotions.

"Aries, what happened?" she asked softly, her voice gentle and soothing.

I took a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain. "I...I just went to get water," I stammered, my voice shaking. "I was thirsty, and I didn't want to bother the nurses. When I came back...my mom was dead."

Mrs. Jenkins' expression turned from concern to shock. "Oh, Aries," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm so sorry."

I felt a wave of grief wash over me again, and I began to sob uncontrollably. Mrs. Jenkins held me tightly, trying to comfort me.

"The doctor...he said she was murdered," I managed to choke out between sobs.

"We saw the CCTV footage in the control room. A man wearing a black hoodie entered her room and quickly rushed out."

Mrs. Jenkins' eyes widened in horror, and she held me even tighter. "Oh, Aries," she whispered again. "I'm so sorry you had to go through this."

We sat there for a moment, holding each other and mourning the loss of my mother. I felt a sense of comfort with Mrs. Jenkins' arms around me.

As I sat in the corridor, still trying to process the news of my mother's passing, I saw my father, Reginald Thornton-Furst, walking towards me. His tall, imposing figure commanded attention, but I felt a surge of anger and resentment as he approached.

His eyes were fixed on me, but I couldn't bear to look at him. I hated him with a passion now that my mother was dead.

He had never been there for her, never supported her or cared for her the way she deserved. And now, she was gone.

My father's expression was somber, but I didn't care. I didn't want his condolences or his sympathy.

I didn't want anything from him. He had failed my mother, and now she was dead. I felt a wave of anger wash as he approached, his bodyguards flanking him.

I wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much I hated him for not being there for my mother. But I didn't. I just sat there, my eyes fixed on the floor, as he approached.

"Aries, my child," he said, his voice firm but controlled. "I'm so sorry about your mother. I'll do everything in my power to find out what happened." But I didn't believe him.

I didn't trust him. He had never kept his promises before, and I didn't think he would start now.

I looked up at him, my eyes filled with tears and anger. "You weren't there for her," I spat, my voice shaking. "You never cared about her. Why should I believe you now?" My father's expression faltered, but I didn't care.

I was beyond consolation. My mother was dead, and he had failed her. That's all that mattered.