162. Moving on

Sophie

She stared at the phone, her hands shaking. She had just informed Worthington that she was no longer part of Lucien Delano’s household. The Boss had unceremoniously dumped her in a small apartment close to the Club. Patrick as well, much to the little boy’s disappointment.

The rent on the apartment was to be paid by the Boss, she had been informed and she suspected that it had been on Proserpina’s insistence. But Sophie seethed.

She hated Proserpina.

Yes, she had discovered that the matter of her mother being discharged had been a mistake; she had only been shifted to the wing where a lot of physiotherapy could be administered easily. Not, thought Sophie glumly, that it would help at all. Her mother was like a vegetable. Her small shrunken body connected to a myriad of tubes, oblivious to the world around her.

When Sophie visited her, she sat, holding the thin, limp and lifeless wrist, speaking to the figure who lay on the large bed, in a coma.

She knew the treatment was expens