Without hesitation, I told him to call Reese Ellison and inform her that I was sick and had been hospitalized.
Vale looked confused but still dialed her number. The call connected after just one ring.
“Hello, Vale. What’s up?”
Reese’s cheerful voice drifted through the speaker. I could almost picture her, legs lazily draped over that Italian man’s lap, lips curled into that familiar, carefree smile.
“President Ellison, Vice President Maddox is hospitalized. Do you plan to return soon? The company can’t run itself.”
There was a pause. Then her voice dropped, cold and dismissive.
“Sick again? Honestly, what does he even do all day? Completely useless.”
She sighed, then added, “I know Sebastian’s tenth birthday is coming up. I’ll spend a few more days with them and head back after that.”
As the call ended, Vale looked toward me, his expression twisted with awkwardness. He stammered, “Vice President Maddox, what do you want to do now?”
I simply waved him off. “Just go back to the office.”
Three days passed. Reese finally returned.
I sat slumped on the sofa, surrounded by empty liquor bottles, each one a silent witness to the storm inside me.