HEAT

CHAPTER 10: HEAT.

I wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead as I place the last dish on the rack. My arms ache from the endless hours of scrubbing, dusting, and polishing. I glance at the time on the wall clock—8:30 p.m. I exhale deeply, feeling both exhaustion and relief.

Finally, I am done.

Curiosity tugs at me when I realize I haven't seen Noah since that morning. I hesitate for a moment before summoning the courage to ask one of the maids.

"Do you know where Mr Noah is?" I inquire, keeping my voice neutral.

"I saw him. He left about an hour ago," the maid answers, barely sparing me a glance as she folds freshly laundered linens.

My stomach tightens at the realization. He left without saying a word? Not that I expected him to, but still, something about it unsettles me. Shaking off the thought, I grab my purse and step out into the night.

   "Goodnight."

   "Same here."

I hail a cab and give the driver the address of the hospital my dad is in. The ride is quiet, save for the occasional honking from passing cars. I rest my head against the window, closing my eyes momentarily. My father. My sister. The reasons for this entire mess.

The hospital lobby is dimly lit, the antiseptic smell clinging to the air. My heart rate quickens as I approach my father’s room. The moment I step inside, my younger sister, Emily, looks up from the chair beside the bed.

   "You’re late," Emily says, though her voice carries no accusation, only concern. "How was your day?" she asks as she collects my bag, putting it aside for me.

I force a small smile. "It was fine. How's Dad?"

"He took his medication," Emily assures me, tucking the blanket around our father. "He’s been asking for you."

My gaze moves to our father. His once robust frame is now frail, his face gaunt and tired. When his eyes land on me, they are sharp, filled with questions I’m not ready to answer.

    "Dad..." I begin but stop as he gestures to Emily to help lift him up. Then I wanted to continue but...

"Where did you get the money from?" he demands, his voice scratchy but firm.

   "Where did you get the money from the surgery? Did you decide to sell off your body to those old foolish men?

My stomach twists. "Dad, please don’t—"

"I asked you a question!" His voice rises, despite his weakened state. "Don’t stand there and lie to me. Tell me the truth, Rachel."

I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around the strap of my purse. There’s no escape from this.

"I got married"" I announce, my voice barely above a whisper.

Silence crashes into the room.

Emily gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. My father’s face contorts into something unreadable before it hardens into anger.

"You did what?!"

"I got married," I repeat, a bit stronger this time. "It was the only way, Dad. I needed to make sure you got the treatment you—"

"So you sold yourself?!" he roars, attempting to sit up. "You married a stranger for money? Is that how little respect you have for yourself?"

I flinch. "Dad, It’s not like that."

"Then tell me, what about Elvis?" His words strike like a blade, making me take a step back. "That boy has loved you for years. You introduced him to us and I helped convince his parents that you are our dearest daughter who won't bail out on him. He would have done anything for you! And this—this is how you repay him?"

A sharp pain cuts through my chest. "Dad… please, don’t. Can you please listen to me?"

"No," he growls. "You need to hear this. You abandoned a good man—someone who actually cares about you—for what? For money? You disgust me."

My breath hitches. "You think I had a choice? You think this was easy for me?" My voice trembles, my emotions unraveling. "I sacrificed my freedom, my happiness, for you. And instead of being grateful, you call me disgusting?"

His jaw tightens. "You should’ve come to me. We would’ve found another way."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Another way? And what way would that have been, Dad? Watching you suffer while we scramble for pennies? You could barely lift a finger! You could not even say a word or recognize us, your daughters. You were at the point of dying and I could not bear to watch you suffer."

"Rachel," Emily murmurs, placing a hand on my arm, but I shake it off.

"No. If he wants to be angry, fine," I spit, my eyes burning. "But don’t you dare make it seem like I did this for fun. I did it for you. And you don’t even care. Now that you are back to good health then you can do whatever you like. You just don't seem to care about me anymore!"

Without waiting for another word, I storm out, my vision blurred with unshed tears.

Emily rushes after me, grabbing my wrist. "Rachel, please—"

"I need space, Emily," I whisper. "Take care of Dad."

Emily hesitates but nods, watching as I disappear down the hallway.

By the time I get home, I’m utterly drained. My head pounds, my limbs feel heavy, and all I want is to collapse in bed.

I push open the door and freeze.

Noah is seated in the dimly lit living room, his fingers steepled together as he watches me. His gaze is unreadable, but his presence alone makes my heartbeat stutter.

"Where have you been?" His voice is calm, but there’s an undercurrent of something darker beneath it.

I exhale, barely having the energy for another confrontation even though I do not want to tell him "Hospital."

"You should have informed me."

I frown. "I didn’t realize I had to report my every move."

Noah tilts his head slightly. "From now on, you do. I don’t like not knowing where you go. I am responsible for your safety."

Something about the possessiveness in his tone irks me. "And how exactly was I supposed to do that when I don’t even have your number?" I challenge.

Noah doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stands, the air around him shifting. "We’ll fix that," he says before walking past me toward the hallway.

I watch his retreating figure, frustration, and exhaustion warring within me. But before he disappears completely, I speak again.

"About what happened at the hotel..." I hesitate. "I hope you know that I didn’t do anything to Marianne. She was the one trying to—"

Noah stops but doesn’t turn around. 

   "Next time, do your job without any errors, you get paid monthly for that."

I gulped after hearing that. A tense silence follows before he simply walks away, leaving me standing there, my chest tightening with unsaid words.

I eat dinner alone, the quiet house pressing down on me. By the time I crawl into bed, my body feels like it weighs a ton. Just as my eyelids droop, my phone buzzes.

I fumble for it and see an unknown number. The message is short.

THIS IS NOAH. SAVE THE NUMBER.

I stare at the text for a long moment before saving it without replying.

Then, I turn off the phone and finally let sleep take me. That is the only way I can keep safe from my troubles.