Chapter 3 - The Coldest Coffee
I walked back up to the third floor, my expression completely serene. I stopped at the hospital cafeteria, bought a fresh cup of chamomile tea and a blueberry muffin, and carried them into Room 308.
Elvira was lying in bed, a drama queen dressed in soft hospital cotton. Her eyes were closed, her face arranged into an elaborate mask of mortal suffering. An IV line with simple saline solution dripped slowly beside her head. The moment she heard the squeak of my sneakers, she let out a pathetic, breathy moan.
"Mariana... oh, Mariana, is that you?" she whimpered, reaching out a limp, trembling hand without opening her eyes completely. "I had the most dreadful spasm in my chest. I called for the nurse, but nobody came. I thought I was dying all alone."
I set the hot tea on the bedside table and pulled up the vinyl armchair, sitting down with deliberate elegance. I crossed my legs and looked at her.
"The nurse didn't come, Elvira, because your vitals on the central monitor are those of a healthy marathon runner," I said softly.
Elvira’s eyes snapped open. The frail, dying matriarch vanished in a fraction of a second, replaced by the sharp, calculating glare she usually reserved for the household staff. "What are you talking about? How dare you dismiss my suffering when I just had my organs cut open!"
"A ten-minute laparoscopic cyst removal is hardly an open-heart transplant," I replied, opening my phone and setting it on her tray table. On the glowing screen was the picture of her son kissing Daniela's belly in Room 412. "And you look remarkably spry for a woman whose grandson is being delivered two floors above us."
Elvira’s mouth dropped open. The color drained from her cheeks, leaving her pale foundation looking like cracked chalk. She reached out to slap the phone away, but I caught her wrist in mid-air. My grip wasn't violent, but it was unyielding.
"You used my grief for my own late mother," I whispered, leaning in until she could see the cold fire in my eyes. "You used my daughter’s love for her grandmother. You kept me awake for four nights, fetching you ice and wiping your forehead, just so your son could steal my father’s warehouse to buy a nursery for his secretary."
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"Mariana, you don't understand!" Elvira stammered, her voice suddenly shrill and panicked. "Ricardo was confused! Daniela trapped him! A mother has to protect her son's happiness! You were always so rigid, so obsessed with business—you never gave him the warmth a real man needs!"
"He'll have plenty of warmth where he's going," I said, releasing her wrist and standing up. "Enjoy your stay, Elvira. Because starting at midnight, your hospital insurance authorization has been canceled. If you want VIP discharge, you can ask your son to pay for it in cash."
