Celebration Cut Short by Mark Twain 3
Chapter 3
11 288 Nouchers
Chapter 3
I remained in the hospital for three more days.
Upon discharge, my first concern was my grandmother. I rushed directly to the care facility.
When I arrived, however, her bed was empty.
The head nurse looked at me with evident discomfort. “Ms. Sherwood, we didn’t want to discharge her, but Mrs. Pennington halted all payments.
“No facility is willing to admit your grandmother now.”
A dread washed over me, my blood seeming to freeze in my veins.
I asked the head nurse for Ophelia’s contact number.
“Mrs. Pennington, whatever issue you have, take it up with me. Leave my grandmother out of
this.”
Ophelia’s laugh was arrogant.
“Magnolia, if you want to help that old woman, be at the Eclipse Lounge tonight.
“Dress nicely. Don’t keep me waiting-the elderly are delicate, you know.”
The call ended.
I gripped the phone until my knuckles turned white.
My parents had died when I was young. My grandmother had raised me, sacrificing everything.
During my senior year of college, she fell seriously ill and was hospitalized.
I abandoned my postgraduate plans to work and pay her medical bills.
She was my only family left. I couldn’t let anything happen to her.
The Eclipse Lounge was the most notorious upscale club in the city. I had no choice but to go.
At eight p.m., wearing a simple dress, I arrived at the private booth Ophelia had specified.
Dominic was seated on the central sofa. He looked momentarily stunned to see me.
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Ophelia was nestled against him, seemingly expecting my arrival.
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A few other men and women lounged around, their gazes landing on me with open amusement.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Pennington’s lover, the one who just lost the baby?”
“She is pretty. No wonder he kept her around for three years.”
“Heard she’s a designer, too? How intellectual.”
Laughter followed. Ophelia sat up straight, disentangling herself from Dominic. She pointed to a long row of shot glasses filled with dark liquor lined up on the table.
“Ms. Sherwood, now that you’re here, don’t just stand there.
“We don’t provide for free. You want your grandmother back in that facility? Then you need to make it worth my while. Entertain me.
“Finish these, and I’ll make the call to the care home.”
There were at least twenty glasses of strong liquor.
It had been less than a week since the procedure. Drinking that much could be fatal, or at the very least, land me back in the hospital.
My eyes flicked instinctively toward Dominic.
His grip tightened on his own glass, his brow furrowed.
Ophelia pouted, shaking his arm playfully. “Nick, I just want to see her drink.
“She was so eager to throw herself at you before. A few drinks now shouldn’t be a problem unless you’re actually feeling sorry for her.”
Dominic’s gaze lingered on my pale face for a split second before he looked away.
His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.
“Don’t be ridiculous. If you want to see it, let her drink.
“Do whatever amuses you, honey.”
Swallowing my humiliation, I said, “I’ll drink.”
A flicker of something crossed Dominic’s face.
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Without hesitation, I started, one shot after another, the fiery liquid burning my throat and scalding my stomach.
Ophelia clapped gleefully beside me.
Dominic didn’t look at me once, just kept spinning his lighter in his hand.
By the tenth shot, my vision began to darken at the edges, and a sharp, crippling pain seized my gut.
The glass slipped from my hand and landed on the floor.
My legs gave way. I fell backward.
In the final moment before darkness claimed me, I faintly saw the man who had been coldly observing it all surge to his feet.
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Joseph King is an editor and storyteller who ensures every chapter is clear, polished, and engaging for readers.
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