The hospital lobby was too white, too clean, too quiet. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, a hum that reminded me how real everything was now. Not a nightmare. Not a dream. Just… life, in its rawest, most chaotic form.
Carl and I sat side by side in stiff chairs, waiting. I had barely said a word since we arrived. My hands stayed in my lap, fingers knotted together like I could wring the guilt out of my bones. But beside me, Carl was different.
He was smiling.
And not the "comforting, everything's going to be okay" kind of smile. No, he was smiling like someone caught in a romantic daydream, like I was the most entertaining thing in the entire hospital.
It was unsettling.
He kept stealing glances at me, the corners of his lips tugging up each time I caught him.
I finally turned to him. "Why are you doing this?"
He blinked, trying and failing to wipe the grin off his face. "Doing what?"
"Looking at me and smiling like a schoolboy with a crush. We're in a hospital, Carl."
He burst out laughing.
I rolled my eyes. "You're ridiculous."
"You just… you amaze me in a way," he said, a little softer this time. "I told you we'd talk, didn't I?"
"Yes. Should we start the discussion now, or wait until Anne's next resurrection?"
Carl chuckled, leaning closer, lowering his voice. "Definitely not here. Not in a hospital waiting room with soap opera drama playing in real life."
Before I could tease him again, a nurse stepped into the lobby. "She's awake now—and she's asking to see both of you."
I stiffened.
Carl looked at me. "You don't need to be scared. You were defending yourself, remember? It was an accident. Nothing more."
I nodded, but I felt anything but reassured. My stomach twisted in knots as we followed the nurse down the corridor and into Anne's room.
She looked… different.
Her head was shaved on one side, a large bandage plastered over the back where her skull had cracked against the floor. Her complexion was pale, lips dry. But her eyes? Her eyes were sharp. Cold. Alive. Very much alive.
The moment we stepped inside, her glare locked onto me like a heat-seeking missile.
I felt Carl's hand reach for mine. He squeezed gently. That little motion gave me just enough strength to keep walking.
"Gold digger," Anne said, her voice low but venomous. "I don't need you anywhere near my territory. You're fired."
"Calm down, Anne," Carl said quickly, stepping forward. "You'll hurt yourself more if you start shouting."
She turned her tears on instantly. "This girl is evil," she sobbed. "She hit my head against the wall. She tried to k*ll me, Carl! I could've died—"
"Anne…" Carl's voice was firm now, less sympathetic. "I've already called Jake. He'll be by to help take care of you."
"I don't want Jake," she snapped. "I want you! Jake doesn't know how to take care of someone. But you do. You're gentle. You're strong."
Carl sighed. "I'm sorry, Anne…"
She sat upright as if her spine was suddenly healed. "You'd rather be with her, right? That… that b*tch?"
He looked at me, then at her. He didn't say a word.
Anne took that silence as confirmation.
"I've got the money. The power. The love to give. Just be mine, Carl."
She actually said it. In a hospital gown. Bald. With a bandage wrapped around her head like a failed Halloween costume.
Carl's face contorted, part amusement, part horror. "Anne, I'm not into older women."
I wanted to clap. Or throw a pillow at him. Or kiss him. Or all three.
Anne scoffed. "Oh? So what are you into then? Housemaids like her?"
Carl didn't flinch. "I never said that."
"Then what is she to you?"
"She's not a maid," Carl replied.
Wait. What?
I turned to look at him, brows raised.
Did he forget what I did for a living?
"She was fired, remember?" he added, glancing at Anne. "That makes her… what? Unemployed? Or… in transition."
Anne's nostrils flared. "She'll go beg another rich man for a cleaning job in no time."
Carl tilted his head. "Would you, Sidney?"
I blinked. "What?"
He turned to me, completely ignoring Anne now. "Would you look for another housekeeping job?"
My lips parted. I wanted to answer, but the words tangled in my throat. What kind of question was that? What else would I do?
"I… I don't know," I said honestly. "At least it's something to keep me busy."
"She definitely would," Anne snapped. "She's helpless. Broke. She doesn't know anything else—"
"If you would," Carl cut her off, "can I do you the pleasure of hiring you?"
My jaw dropped.
Anne's mouth did the same. Only hers twisted in outrage.
"What?" I whispered.
"You're hired," Carl said with a shrug, like it was the most casual thing in the world. "Let's go. I'll show you around the house."
He took my hand again and pulled me toward the door.
"Carl!" Anne shrieked.
He didn't look back.
I was so shocked, I barely managed to keep up with him. My feet moved on autopilot as we left the hospital room. I glanced behind me just in time to see Anne's face twist in something between disbelief and betrayal.
Her jaw had indeed dropped.
But my soul was still trying to catch up to my body.
We walked down the corridor in silence. I had so many questions—none of which made it past my lips. When we finally reached his car, he opened the passenger door for me and waited until I got in before circling to the driver's side.
Only when he started the engine did the reality hit me.
I'm going to Carl's house.
Carl's.
House.
This man just hired me in front of Anne like I was the hottest property on a sales floor. What did he mean by that? Was it just to get under her skin? Was he serious? Was this all a game?