**Chapter 6**
As Yvonne emerged from the depths of unconsciousness, she found herself sprawled on a narrow cot within the stark confines of the medical bay. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the sharp tang of fear that gripped her chest. Her body felt like a patchwork quilt of pain, each bandage a reminder of her recent ordeal.
A nurse, with an air of impatience, was forcefully administering an IV, the needle piercing her skin with a jolt. Yet, Yvonne was so overwhelmed by the throbbing agony that she barely registered the intrusion. She lay there, her gaze unfocused, fixed on the sterile white ceiling above, feeling utterly powerless.
“Of all the choices you could have made in life, you decided to become a thief?” the nurse scoffed, her tone dripping with disdain. “You really brought this upon yourself. And to think you had the audacity to steal from Mr. Mendoza—don’t you realize how powerful he is? Once you’re back on your feet, you’ll be behind bars for sure.”
Yvonne listened to the nurse’s words, a dull ache forming in her chest. She parted her dry, cracked lips, but the effort sent a sharp sting through her face, making her wince.
“Can I make a call?” she managed to utter, her voice barely above a whisper, heavy with desperation.
The nurse raised her eyebrows in disbelief, instinctively reaching out to check Yvonne’s forehead, as if trying to gauge her sanity.
“Have you completely lost your mind? Do you even understand where you are? This is the medical bay of the police station. You were brought here for theft. Everything you owned has been taken from you. Once you’re well enough, you’re going straight to jail.”
Tears pricked at the corners of Yvonne’s eyes, threatening to spill over.
“Where’s Winthrop? Can I see him?” she implored, her heart racing at the thought of him.
Before her world had spiraled into chaos, she had managed to obtain the marriage license, but it bore Chloe’s name instead of her own. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut—how had she transitioned from being his legitimate wife to merely a secret lover?
All along, she had genuinely believed she was his spouse. Even amidst the insults, the misunderstandings, and the scornful glances from society, she had clung to the hope that their union would eventually be recognized. She dreamed of the day when she could stand proudly by his side, no longer the object of ridicule.
But now, the one piece of evidence that could affirm her status—the marriage license—had become her undoing.
After enduring so much heartache, this harsh reality was a blow she could not accept.
“Could you please call Winthrop for me? Just tell him Yvonne wants to speak with him. It’s really important…” she pleaded, her voice trembling with urgency.
The nurse regarded her as if she were a lost cause, a flicker of pity momentarily crossing her features.
“Mr. Mendoza is on vacation with his fiancée. You really think someone like you can just reach out to him because you want to? You’re delusional,” she replied, shaking her head in disbelief.
Seeing the despair etched across Yvonne’s face, the nurse sighed heavily, her tone softening slightly. “Look, you’re a thief. Even if you want to beg Mr. Mendoza for mercy, do you honestly believe he would grant it?”
At that moment, Yvonne’s gaze fell upon the nurse’s phone screen, where a picture of Winthrop and Chloe radiated happiness. Their affection was palpable, a stark contrast to her own misery. The joy on Winthrop’s face felt like a dagger to her heart, twisting painfully as tears cascaded down her cheeks.
Desperate, she grasped the nurse’s wrist, her voice cracking as she implored, “Please, just one call. That’s all I’m asking for. Help me, please.”
The nurse hesitated, a flicker of fear crossing her features as she regarded Yvonne’s frantic state. “I can’t make that decision. Just try to rest while I talk to my superior.”
After what felt like an eternity, thirty agonizing minutes later, Yvonne was finally handed her phone back, granted the opportunity to make one call to Winthrop.
With trembling hands, she dialed his number, her heart racing in her chest. If he would just confirm her status to the authorities, she could be released and finally see him. She needed to confront him about the marriage license and the truth that lay buried beneath layers of deception.
But as the call connected, he hung up on her without a second thought, shattering the last remnants of her hope.
“I knew it,” a police officer remarked as he snatched the phone away from her, a smirk playing on his lips. “Mr. Mendoza runs the Mendoza Group. Of course, he doesn’t have time for someone like you. Stop wasting our time!”
Yvonne stood frozen, her mind racing in disbelief. Winthrop had never ignored her calls before. But now, with Chloe by his side, he was too occupied to even acknowledge her existence—even when she was labeled a thief and confined within the cold walls of a police station.
Tears streamed down her face, each droplet a testament to her utter desolation.
The police officer clicked his tongue in irritation. “You really don’t know when to give up, do you? Fine. I’ll make a call for you. Just listen closely.”
This time, as the phone rang, Winthrop answered almost immediately.
“Hello?” His voice was chillingly detached, devoid of any warmth.
“Hello, Mr. Mendoza. I apologize for the interruption. This is Southern Station of the San Francisco Police Department. We have a woman here named Yvonne Welch, and she’s requesting to speak with you—”
Before the officer could finish, Winthrop cut him off, his tone icy and authoritative. “I don’t know such a person. This is my private number. If you have something to discuss, please speak to my assistant.”
With that, he ended the call, leaving the officer to slowly place the phone down, a sneer curling his lips.
“See? You’re a lunatic. Why do you have to humiliate yourself like this?” he taunted.
Yvonne’s hand fell limply to her side, her spirit crushed. She stared blankly at the floor, her mind swirling with despair, before a bitter smile crept onto her lips—one that was devoid of any joy.
A week later, she was transferred to the detention center, the heavy iron door clanging open with a menacing thud. A shove from behind propelled her forward into the cold, unforgiving cell.
**Chapter 7**
