Chapter 5 - The Ambush at the ClinicTwo days later, I had my first post-surgery follow-up appointment at the medical clinic downtown.
My incision was healing well, though the pain remained sharp whenever I moved too quickly. Ethan had insisted on driving me in his personal vehicle, ensuring I made it out of my building without being ambushed by family members lingering nearby.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you inside?” Ethan asked as he pulled up to the clinic's main glass entrance.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, offering a small, appreciative smile. “It’s a medical facility. They wouldn't dare cause a scene here.”
I was wrong again.
I spent forty-five minutes inside with my surgeon, who removed ten of the metal staples and declared my recovery on track, provided I avoided any physical stress or emotional strain.
When I stepped out into the bright lobby toward the pharmacy counter to collect my antibiotics, a figure suddenly bolted out from behind a waiting room pillar.
It was my mother.
Her hair was unkempt, her coat unbuttoned, and her eyes burned with frantic intensity. Before I could step back, she grabbed my forearm with a tight, painful grip.
“Mom! Let go of me!” I gasped, my stomach muscles instantly tightening in pain.
“You are coming with me right now!” she hissed, pulling me toward the side exit doors. “Greg is sitting in a holding cell because of your ridiculous security guards! Vanessa’s kids are crying themselves to sleep on my living room floor!”
“Greg was arrested because he physically assaulted a security officer on private property!” I shouted, attracting the attention of several nurses behind the counter.
“He was defending his family!” my mother yelled, her voice echoing off the tile walls. “You are going to walk down to the precinct with me, drop the charges, and give Vanessa the keys to your second bedroom today!”
“I am not dropping anything!” I pulled my arm back with all the force I could muster. A sharp, burning shock rippled across my surgical scar. I gasped, stumbling backward against a display rack.
“Look at you!” my mother sneered, stepping closer and pointing a finger inches from my nose. “Acting like a fragile victim! You’ve always been jealous of Vanessa because she has a husband and children, while you sit alone with your little bank accounts!”
“Ma'am! Step away from the patient immediately!”
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A tall, broad-shouldered security guard from the clinic rushed over, accompanied by two nurses.
My mother glared at them, then turned back to me with a look of pure hatred. “If Greg goes to jail, Camille, you are dead to this family. Do you hear me? Dead.”
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