The Rise of Rachel Price T-Girl Pt. 37

"Or I could hang on, be the rich widow. I'd have a great number of men come after me. In the line of work I'm in, you meet a lot of people who are rich from birth. They are kind of weird people, you know. The heiresses I've met always have this tiny hard seed of doubt in their minds. Do they really want me or my money? It seems to totally zero out their self-confidence. Levant was like that; you could see he had all these carefully evolved defences. It's why they all know each other. You know they share that same kernel of doubt. That along with the knowledge that the other rich people must be genuine. Except you get a whole bunch of fakers. I think not being able to trust your instincts slowly corrupts you on the inside. You become these hollow shell people, always seeking love, never sure you get it, even when its there," Rachel said then paused in realisation.

"Anyway," Rachel continued, "I think the fact he controlled me was exactly why he dropped his defences. Yeah, I know that sounds weird. Sounds even weirder saying it aloud. He kind of made me."

Rachel paused, not wanting to add, "And, I think I kind of enjoyed it, which is why he knew he could love me."

Rachel felt herself crying with pathetic grief. The makeup she was wearing was all waterproof, but they still hadn't perfected grief-proof mascara.

"So yeah, I could join the shell people. I could enjoy it. Distract myself with charity work while grinding through one person after another like a snowplow in Aspen snow."

Rachel found herself holding Hunter's hand. She wasn't supposed to do it. The hospital had rules designed to protect patients. After all, someone in a coma couldn't consent, and the staff were breaking enough rules to let her come in. His hand was cold like a statue of a great man. Soon, a nurse came in, and Rachel looked up.

"Yeah, don't worry. I'm leaving," Rachel said, sniffling. She noticed the nurses expression. Even the nurses on the thirteenth floor knew about Levant now. They knew what was happening. Rachel turned back to Hunter, "I was reading in some inflight magazine that they might have found a cure for what you have. I think you could look forward to being out of here..."

Rachel stood up while pretending to listen to Hunter.

"You're looking forward to being free.. yeah.. Yeah, I can get that. But you are also slightly worried if the world has changed too much while you were out. Yeah, I know how it feels."

*****************************

The luxurious hospital waiting room exuded an air of sophistication and comfort. The room was adorned with tasteful decor and elegant furnishings, featuring plush leather chairs with intricate designs and soft, velvet cushions. The color palette was a combination of soothing pastel tones and warm, gold accents, creating a sense of tranquility and opulence. It felt like a second home to Rachel now.

Lucy walked stiffly in the observation room. Rachel was dead, watching TV. She couldn't name the program, just some generic romance--it was about as much as she could handle. She was still in the wedding dress, though it had loosened up. She had switched to low pumps now. At some point, Rachel had developed a loathing for flats. She felt small in them, standing awkwardly. She didn't feel properly dressed. Levant had mentioned it was something she shared with his mother, Lidia. Lidia had once scolded Isabella over flats, and Rachel found herself standing there, nodding in agreement. They had bonded over it, but Rachel still couldn't pinpoint when that connection had developed.

Rachel felt like she had been passed through a mangle, then a mill. She felt squeezed thin like a tortilla. She was waiting for the moment she could start breathing again.

"There is another doctor, Gregor Samsa" Lucy said. "I want you to give permission for him to operate."

Rachel looked up. This was unusual because Lucy wasn't speaking in her usual snide tone. She was talking like a person.

"Why do you need my permission?" Rachel said muting the TV set.

"The other doctors aren't happy with this one. Samsa is a Russian. He used to be a doctor for the Olympic team. He got banned and then fired by the Russian's. He claims he's dealt with this kind of thing before. He wants to be paid a million dollars to do it, but the other doctors don't like him as he hasn't got medical clearance for this country. I can fix that, but I need the next of kin's permission."

"A million dollars sounds like a scam," Rachel said.

"A million if he succeeds," Lucy said. "Nothing but the flight if he loses."

Rachel looked up. "Do the other doctors think it's got a chance?"

"No," Lucy said. "They said if such a thing would work, they would've done it already. They say there's no medical basis why it would work. To be honest, Gregor Samsa was fired from the Russian Olympic team. I know I've got zero right to ask you this. This isn't about you winning or me losing. This is about him. It can't do any harm. But I want to know I've done everything for him. I've been strung out for too long, so have you. I'm asking you at this point, one woman to another, to act like a wife. Do this, and I will never ask for anything ever again. After this, you can fire me whenever you want, I won't care."

Rachel knew Lucy hated her guts and it would be worse if she denied her this chance. The real doctors had said he was sinking fast and only had a few hours left, if that. If Lucy needed to hire voodoo doctors to make herself feel better, then why stop her? In truth, Rachel found she was searching for excuses for Lucy when she should be looking for ways to excuse herself. She felt guilty thinking she was the cause.

Rachel gave in to her better nature, it was a small thing to do to make Lucy happy and then stop hating her.

"Sure. OK, let's give it a chance. Bring me the paperwork I'll sign it. "

*************************

Events

Rachel hadn't witnessed Gregor Samsa at work. She had been talking to Dr Cooper, who now he didn't have to push Levant's lies was surprisingly helpful. She lied and said Levant had taken the Viagra himself. During the private talk she missed the biopsy, and then a number of chemicals that were on no list approved by the FDA.

Later Rachel had overheard Dr. Johnston talking to another consultant. They felt Levant was dead already. If the family brought any medical case against the hospital, they would blame it on the Russian Samsa and the Family. The event was put down as an 'exercise accident', which was the kind of lie everyone, including Rachel, could sign up to, as it wasn't literally a total lie. Strange how even Levant's end was a convenient lie, it kind of suited him.

Every muscle ached, so Rachel had excused herself and tried to rest while Levant gave way to the inevitable. Later, Rachel was in bed, she had been trying to get some sleep with her pants off. Rachel had fondled Denver's balls. She wondered by this was the one and only organ apart from the brain which lived outside to the body. Every other organ was on the inside where it made sense. It was like it was a last minute addition by God or as if it was intended to be detachable. It wouldn't take much to be totally and irrefutably Rachel.

There was a gentle knock on the door, the sound echoing softly through the hushed hospital room.

"Mrs. Levant, can we speak?" came the calm voice of Dr. Johnson, the attending physician. Rachel still felt a shiver when people used "Mrs.".

Rachel took a deep breath, knowing this was the talk she had been expecting ever since her husband's condition took a turn for the worse.

"Sure," Rachel replied, sitting up with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

Dr. Johnson walked in, his expression professional yet compassionate. His eyes held a weight of experience from dealing with countless critical patients. "Your husband's condition hasn't declined as quickly as we expected," the doctor began, his tone measured.

Rachel paused, absorbing the words carefully. "That's good news," she said, trying to find a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty.

The doctor moved forward, his hands tucked into the pockets of his white coat. "I wouldn't go giving Samsa his fee just yet. It's coincidental. Near the end, you see final upturns, so brace yourself. He might recover enough to wake up briefly, say a few goodbyes if you're lucky," he explained gently, trying to temper expectations with realism.

"Okay," Rachel said, her voice tinged with a mix of relief and apprehension.

With a nod, the doctor made his excuses and left, leaving Rachel alone once again with her thoughts and emotions swirling like an untamed storm within her.

Rachel got up, got dressed, and found clothes, makeup, and medicine had been brought from the Asylum for her. There were some of her favorite clothes for waiting in and a black dress. The dress was somber and intended for the press statement. There was a temporary press room that had been set up downstairs. Rachel had a shower and then got dressed and ready. By the time she had breakfast, another report was given.

"Your husband seems stronger and is still improving. A rally before the end does happen, but it gives us hope." Dr Johnson had said. "We are trying a few more things."

Rachel spent all morning playing games on her phone. By lunchtime, she was told that his condition had improved to the extent that if she wanted to go home for a few hours to recover, she could do so. They had ended it with the ominous phrase, 'there is room for hope.' Dr Johnson still said the recovery was coincidental with the Russian Samsa's medication.

Rachel stayed. The morning passed into the afternoon. The witness window of the observation opened on Levant laying there. The way everyone moved was slightly less like morticians, but Levant looked the same.

*****

Later, in the subdued ambiance of the waiting room, Rachel found herself curled up on a sofa, her posture akin to that of a contented cat. With an iPad resting on her lap, she was engrossed in its screen, the device casting a soft glow on her features. Mid afternoon like came in from the window. Meanwhile, the door to the waiting room suite swung open, and Charlie's figure made an entrance.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Rachel's voice rippled through the room, a hint of irritation tinting her words as she looked up to find Charlie stepping inside.

Charlie, taking note of Rachel's reaction, inquired with a mixture of curiosity and concern, "What's up?"

Setting the iPad aside for a moment, Rachel glanced in Charlie's direction, her expression a blend of frustration and distraction. "I'm reading the contract."

Charlie, settling into a seat nearby, responded with a matter-of-fact tone, "You know the contract. You know the contract better than anyone."

Rachel offered a fleeting nod, her gaze fixating on a distant point as if navigating her thoughts. "I only skimmed the matrimony bit. I was pushed for time."

Charlie's eyebrows raised in both mild surprise and inquiry. "You didn't read that part of the contract?"

A sigh of exasperation escaped Rachel's lips as she met Charlie's gaze, a mixture of candor and self-deprecation evident in her eyes. "Well, yeah. Back then, I thought the smart thing to do was agree to anything in the event of marriage and then just refuse to get married. I managed to push a whole bunch of stuff in there. Now I'm screwed... yes, literally. I'm supposed to get the nose job and something on my jaw. If they can figure out a way of making me shorter agree to it. The worst part is I'm held by the contract until one of us dies or there is a divorce. I'm so drastically screwed. There are moths with better long term futures than mine."

In response, Charlie, a calming presence, knelt down beside Rachel, her proximity imbued with reassurance. "Relax. It's not like he's going to recover."

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Rachel's lips. "News flash. The latest update reads, 'Vital signs are improving. There is cautious optimism in the team.'"

Charlie's eyes widened, caught between surprise and intrigue. "Really?" She said, sitting down.

A dry chuckle escaped Rachel, humor mingling with her weariness. "Lucy is walking around brimming. How are things on your end?"

Charlie looked over. "Terrible. Abercromby the butt plug is making a real power play. The whole Thornbury group is in a terrible state. I don't know who has been auditing the books, but we are up to our necks in every kind of fraud possible. The IRS would shut us down. The investors are being fucked as much as you are. That's not for broadcast, you understand. Any hint of weakness, and this paper tiger is going to get ripped up."

"So his billions are a scam?" Rachel said.

"No," Charlie replied, "when you have an empire built on real estate, finance, and hotels, the value is like art. Real but more about what people think it's worth. The key part is you can have a financially strong company one day, and then something like the pandemic comes along, and you're actually sitting on a lot of debt."

Rachel leaned back. "And with that, I've finally clocked big business."

"Can I have a look?" Charlie said reaching for the iPad. She had been speed reading for practically five days straight this sounded easy. Rachel handed the iPad over and Charlie began reading the section. The much-discussed nose operation was in there. She agreed to Levant's story of events. Rachel had signed over any and all decisions over cosmetic surgery to him. Levant could change what he wanted on her. Some agreements over self-hypnosis and self brainwashing. Also clauses on children. The time limit was removed as Rachel knew.

Charlie looked up "Well, I'll point out. You still have to agree to have the gender confirmation surgery. There doesn't look like any prenuptial agreement so you get half of everything on divorce. It looks like he's trying to get around the sex clauses in a contract. That's your best bet. I'll get some real lawyers to look at it,get some real experts to shred it up."

Just then, Samantha walked in. She had been appearing and disappearing like a fairy godmother all day, managing her business while tending to the Rachel's needs as best she could.

"The crowds of supporters are thinning out. What's happening?" Samantha inquired.

Rachel lifted her gaze from her thoughts, her eyes meeting Samantha's. "It looks like all those thoughts and prayers are actually working. It seems like he's recovering. Meanwhile, I'm in screwed."

"Shit," Samantha remarked, taking a seat beside Rachel. "That must be really difficult for you."

Charlie glanced over at them. "It sounds like we could all use a drink. Let's sneak out."

Samantha turned to Rachel, seeking her opinion. Rachel nodded in agreement. "Yeah, what more could go wrong?" Her words accompanied by a sense of resignation.