Part 3

"We will call," the doctor said, squeezing my hand to comfort me.

I collected my things so I could leave the hospital. The detective called, "Ms. DuBois, I have more questions for you.  Has your boss ever been married before or had a past lover?"

"No, sir. Please excuse me. I have to leave and return to the office."

"Not yet, Ms. DuBois."

"What? Am I a suspect? How can I be when you have the person who committed this heinous crime?"

"Well, everyone is a suspect while we investigate."

"So you think I'm an accomplice? I can't believe this! I came to her home and found her like that! I'm the one who called the police! I can’t believe you are trying to accuse me of hurting my boss!"

The accusation shook me. The detective noticed my anxiety, and he hated the other cop putting me through any more grief. 

"We empathize with you, Ms. DuBois, but we're doing our job. You can go for now. Let's hope Ms. Catchings pulls through and can tell us what happened."

I grabbed my purse and quickly left. After getting into my car and driving a few blocks, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket, so I answered it.

"Dynasty speaking."

"It's Dr. Park; Beverly is conscious."

"Oh, thank God! Thank you! I'm turning around and will be there shortly."

I hung up the phone, swerving her car on the freeway as she headed back to the hospital. A small whimper escaped my lips.

"Thank you!" I looked up to the sky.

When I arrived at Beverly's room, her eyes were closed. "Keep in mind, she is still very weak. I'll let you visit with her," the doctor warned.

"Beverly, it's me," I said softly.

Thank goodness my mother opened her eyes. "You scared me to death," I told her, smiling.

A faint smile appeared on Beverly's face as she strained to talk.

"Don't try to talk; you're too weak."

"I... I must say this: You must finish this for your mother and me. Did you get it?"

"Yes. I can't think about that right now."

"You have to, Dynasty," Beverly said weakly, taking hold of my arm as she began to moan, speaking breathlessly.

"Are you in pain? Let me get the doctor."

"No, I'll be fine. Listen to me. I need you to listen to me.  We can't let all our hard work be for nothing!"

"You need help. I'm going to call the doctor."

The more Beverly forced herself to speak, the shallower and erratic her breathing became, each exhale a desperate gasp for air. When I glanced at the EKG machine, my heart plummeted as the screen began to emit a frantic series of beeps.

My tear-streaked eyes widened in horror, witnessing my mother’s struggle and the once-vibrant, wiggly line on the monitor start to flatten ominously. The machine emitted a deafening buzz, slicing through the tense air like a knife, jolting me out of my paralyzing shock. 

Panic surged within me as I sprinted to find Dr. Park, my mind racing with fear and urgency. I opened the door to leave the room, and the doctor and nurses swarmed around Beverly's bed.

A nurse took me by the arm, pulling me out of the room while they worked to revive her. A particular fear gripped my heart as I paced outside my mother's hospital room, thinking, "I'm not ready! She can't die! Don't die! Why is she doing this to me again?"

I felt unprepared to take on the role of queen of a large corporation.

Several minutes later, I looked up as Dr. Park emerged. 

"She's stable again, but she has slipped back into a coma."

"What?! A coma?! Doctor, none of this makes sense! She was just talking to me," I said, my face filled with tears.

"I know. Don’t worry; we just need to give it time. She is a strong-willed woman."

"Can I go sit with her?"

"Sure, but you need your rest, young lady. If her condition improves, we will call as we did before, " the doctor said, leaving her to spend a moment.

Navigating all the confusion, I finally left the hospital. My life was perfect only a few days ago, but now it felt like my foundation had been ripped from beneath me, leaving me struggling to find my footing.

I slid on my dark sunglasses to hide the tears streaming down my face again. The second I entered the parking garage, I pressed the remote for my Mercedes Benz, sat, and cried. I wasn't ready for what was about to happen next.

********

Every day for an entire month, nothing happened. My life became routine. I would leave work and visit Beverly in the hospital. Her condition remained the same. I looked forward to Fridays because I could take care of Beverly and be by her side, even though she remained in a coma.

Despite her condition, I bathed her, combed and styled her hair, and applied a little makeup. She always looked beautiful and elegant, and I knew how much she cared about her appearance.

 "There you go. You look perfect," I smiled, recalling Beverly's words from when I was a little girl and she would help me get dressed for school.

I stayed overnight, happily sleeping on that uncomfortable lounge chair in her hospital room. For a month, I wondered who had done this to her. I hoped that man would rot in jail. I felt that the flash drive I held onto was somehow connected to it. I still hadn't looked at it; I was afraid to discover what Beverly wanted me to do and why.

Thoughts kept replaying in my mind like a broken record: her last words to me before she slipped into the coma.

"Do it for me and your mother, Lynette."

In the past, a statement like that would have worked. But as I’ve gotten older, I barely remember anything about my biological mother. Beverly was my mother, and I loved her dearly. But my only connection with Lynetter is that she is my biological mother and Beverly's best friend. There was always a strange air when Beverly mentioned Lynette to me; it made me afraid to discover more. 

It was midnight. I stretched my arms high above my head and yawned. I was so exhausted. "Okay, Beverly, I'm going to bed. You have sweet dreams," I said, gently kissing her.

I lay down and closed my eyes. Shortly after, I fell into a deep sleep. A weak voice that sounded like Beverly softly called my name. Had I been dreaming when I thought I heard Beverly speaking?

"Dynasty, are you asleep?"

"Yes," I vaguely responded, knowing it was a dream. I was desperate for her to awaken and talk to me until I must have begun dreaming about it.

"I need to tell you what happened to me. I miscalculated a few variables, but the mission must go on."

I moaned, refusing to open my eyes. I didn’t want to be disappointed by finding Beverly still lying there, unresponsive in a coma. So I entertained what felt real as I listened to her soothing voice.

Where do I start? I have a lot of memories flooding my mind, and it makes sense to begin with the night everything changed—the night I was shot. At first, it was just another ordinary evening as I had dinner with a man named Nicholas Vinerelli. The atmosphere was warm, and I could hear the sound of silverware on fine china while we talked. Nicholas is connected to my past and to a man named Sheppard Choi, whom everyone calls Shep. I hadn’t seen Shep in years, but I still felt his presence, like a distant memory, reminding me of my pain.

(The scene as it happened)

“Ms. DuBois,” the host announced, his voice smooth as silk. “Your usual table is ready.”  

“Thank you, Freddy,” I replied, gratitude woven into my tone.  

We glided into a cozy booth, the plush leather inviting us to relax. The waitress approached her, smile bright against the dim lighting, and gracefully set the menus before us.  

“I’ll be back shortly to take your orders,” she said before departing.  

I opened the menu, perusing the options while my senses buzzed with the ambiance around us. Then, I caught Nick intently observing me, his gaze unwavering and magnetic.  

“I think I’ll indulge in a glass of wine,” I said, attempting to diffuse the tension that danced in the air. Nick glanced down, consulting the menu with casual confidence.  

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity.

 “I’ll have a cup of coffee.”

“Yes, a chill has settled in, but I need to unwind; it’s been one of those long days, and that brisk walk from the office got my blood warmed up,” I replied, trying to downplay the truth behind my words.  

A soft chuckle escaped Nick’s lips; a thrill of danger radiated from him despite his suave demeanor.  

“I wish I could say that walk warmed me up,” he said, a charming smile hinting at mischief.  

I leaned in, my curiosity piqued, and I asked, "How much longer do you expect business to keep you in Paris?" I aimed for a casual tone, but the anticipation was palpable. "This might sound a bit unusual, but Nick, I can't recall you mentioning your purpose for coming to Paris. Don't tell me you have lingering doubts about your investment. I'm eager to hear your reasons." 

I said calmly, showing no signs of how nervous I was that my cover might have been blown.