Chapter Eight: The Breaking Point
Jaden looked up, wary.
Margaret stood with her arms crossed, her tone sharp and unwavering.
"From today onward," she said, "ninety percent of your salary will go to your wife, Vanessa."
He blinked, stunned. "What?"
"I know exactly what I'm doing," Margaret continued, her voice laced with accusation. "That girl you took to lunch isn't just a friend. I see right through you. I won't let you waste this family's money on some side woman."
"That's not true—"
"Don't interrupt me," she snapped. "If Vanessa controls your money, you'll have nothing left to spend on her."
Jaden's shoulders tensed. His voice dropped, almost pleading. "Please don't do that."
"What I said is final," Margaret replied coldly. "And there's no one who can change it."
Jaden fell silent. He knew her well enough to understand—pleading wouldn't help. Once Margaret made up her mind, there was no turning back.
Without another word, he turned and went to his room. As he lay on the bed, his thoughts swirled.
Was she right? Had he given the wrong impression? Did one lunch mean betrayal?
He tried to find clarity, to figure out what to say or do next—but the weight of it all settled heavily on him. Eventually, sleep took him, his mind still restless even as his body gave in.
Jaden woke up early, just as he always did. The quiet of the morning was familiar, almost comforting. He moved through his usual routine—sweeping, mopping every corner of the house with care—before heading to the kitchen to start breakfast. These weren't just chores to him; they were acts of service, silent messages to his in-laws. Deep down, he hoped his dedication would earn him the right to marry Vanessa.
The thought of handing over all his salary once they were married didn't bother him. His focus was elsewhere—on love, on proving himself worthy, on building a future with Vanessa.
As he stirred the pot on the stove, a nagging thought crossed his mind:
Vanessa should be up by now. She needs to get ready for work.
Elsewhere in the house, Margaret had already sensed something was wrong. When she entered Vanessa's room, she found her still lying in bed—pale, drained, motionless. It was clear she wasn't just tired; she was unwell.
Moments later, Jaden entered the room and saw Margaret sitting at Vanessa's bedside, gently stroking her daughter's hair. Vanessa barely moved.
He overheard part of their conversation.
"Don't worry, my daughter," Margaret said softly. "I'll take you to the hospital after you've eaten."
Jaden's heart sank. Seeing Vanessa like this—fragile and silent—made something twist inside him. He stepped closer.
"Vanessa, I'm sorry you're feeling this way. You'll be okay soon," he said gently.
"Thank you," she whispered, managing a faint smile.
Margaret turned to him. "Have you started cooking?"
"Yes," he replied quickly.
"Good. When it's ready, serve your wife first before serving the rest of us," she said, calmly but firmly.
Jaden nodded, quietly moved by the way she referred to Vanessa as his wife.
Vanessa hadn't felt well the day before, but she'd masked it well. She had assumed that a good meal, some water, and an early night's sleep would help her recover. But when she woke up in the middle of the night, her condition had worsened. Her body ached. Her energy was gone. She barely managed to fall back asleep.
It was Margaret who discovered her condition that morning when she knocked on her door.
A short while later, the food was ready. Jaden prepared a plate and called out to Vanessa, inviting her to the dining table.
"Please bring it here," she said weakly. "I can't come to the table right now."
Without hesitation, Jaden brought the tray to her bedside. He placed the food and water on a small table and stepped back, watching as she slowly began to eat.
Margaret remained by her side. Jaden lingered, unsure whether to stay or go.
"You should go and get ready for work," Margaret told him. "I'll take her to the hospital. You can check on her later when you're free."
"But, Ma… I'd rather take her myself."
Margaret shook her head. "No. You just got this job, and you need to be serious about it. Call me when you're free, and I'll tell you which hospital we're at."
Jaden hesitated, then nodded. "Okay, Ma." He turned to Vanessa. "Take care, Vanessa. You'll be all right."
She gave a weak nod as he left the room.
Vanessa picked at her food. After a few bites, she pushed the plate aside.
"Try to eat a little more," Margaret urged.
"I can't. I have no appetite."
"All right. Let's go to the hospital."
They stood, Margaret supporting Vanessa gently. As they walked out, Margaret pulled out her phone and called her husband.
"Hello, Richard. Vanessa is sick. I'm taking her to the hospital. Can you meet us there?"
Richard, already familiar with the hospital where the family was registered, didn't need directions.
"I'm coming right now," he said, and ended the call.
At that moment, Richard was in his office, working at his desk. But hearing the concern in Margaret's voice, he shut his laptop without a second thought and headed out.
Outside, Margaret helped Vanessa to the car. Isabelle followed quietly behind. The driver was already waiting. As they settled into the back seat, Margaret gave him the hospital's name, and without delay, the car pulled away into the morning traffic.
The drive to the hospital felt like a descent from heaven to earth for Vanessa. Every bump in the road sent sharp jolts through her weakened body. She clutched her stomach and winced, silently praying they would arrive soon.
"Please, drive faster," she cried, her voice tight with pain. "I need to see the doctor—quickly."
The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror, gave a silent nod, and pressed a little harder on the accelerator.
Margaret's phone rang. She answered quickly—it was Jaden.
"Have you gotten to the hospital?" he asked.
"Not yet," Margaret replied. "We're close. Just a few more minutes."
"Okay, Ma. I'll call you later," he said, then ended the call.
The car sped through the morning traffic. Margaret turned to check on Vanessa, who had grown unusually quiet. Her head rested against the seat, eyes closed.
Poor thing, she must have dozed off, Margaret thought.
As the hospital gates came into view, Richard leaned forward from the front passenger seat and gently tapped Vanessa's shoulder.
"We're here, Vanessa. Wake up—let's go inside."
There was no response.
"Vanessa?" he said again, more urgently. Still nothing.
Margaret leaned in quickly, panic rising in her chest. She touched her daughter's arm—cold and limp.
"Vanessa!" she cried. "Vanessa, wake up!"
Her voice cracked. She turned toward the hospital entrance, frantic.
"Nurse! Please—help us! Somebody help!"