Rise To Power: Death To My Billionaire Husband

Chapter 22: Tessa

Stepping out of Lilly’s ward, Anita didn’t leave the hospital entirely. She went towards the STD clinic, her steps slow but deliberate. The hallway was quiet, except for the clicking of her heels and the distant murmurs from other hallways.

As she approached the discreet door marked Sexual Health Services, her fingers trembled slightly. She was filled with shame and dread. What would people think if they saw her in this section? Nobody would believe she contracted it from her husband. Many would claim it was karma from cheating on a ’good’ man.

Although her heart clenched beneath her ribs, she refused to let it show. If her husband had reduced her to a statistic, a silent sufferer, she would at least face it with dignity.

With her back straight, chin held high, eyes forward, she marched towards her destination, like a female judge marching into a courtroom, ready to deliver her final verdict.

Arriving at the reception desk of the separate clinic, the nurse at the reception desk was stunned to see her, Mrs. Anita Wales Blackwood in this part of the hospital.

The nurse blinked rapidly, quickly schooling her expression into something more neutral, but not before Anita caught the flicker of surprise in her eyes. Of course she recognized her. Everyone did.

David and Anita, the Celebrity Power Couple. Anita, the no-nonsense, poised, arrogant, and proud wife of a billionaire CEO was caught ’sneaking’ into this part of a hospital. It would definitely make for a juicy headline.

Maybe she’d need such a scandal in the future, when she was fully ready to ruin that son of a bitch, but right now, no. She didn’t.

"Mrs. Blackwood," the nurse said, her tone overly polite now, even careful. "Is there...um...how may I help you today?"

Anita didn’t flinch. She didn’t look away. "I have an appointment with Dr. Moore," she said, voice smooth as silk and just as sharp.

The nurse paused, blinked, then nodded. "Of– of course," she said quickly, tapping at her keyboard to pull up the schedule. A moment passed and then she looked up, trying her best to present a natural smile. "Um, Dr. Moore is in an emergency meeting. Please have a seat. Dr. Moore will call you in shortly."

Anita gave a curt nod and turned toward the waiting area, her heels clicking confidently against the polished tile. She could still feel the nurse’s gaze at her back. Perhaps, she was curious, maybe even feeling sorry for her. And Anita despised pity more than she hated betrayal.

"Listen to me, you fucker, if I find out I’m positive, I swear down earth and all the gods you worship, I’ll carve your balls out! Better pray I’m – hello! Hello! Son of a bitch!" She whimpered.

Anita paused at the entrance of the waiting area, eyes narrowing slightly. A young woman, probably in her early twenties, sat hunched over in a plastic chair with her phone pressed to her ear. She was beautiful—achingly so. Slim, fair, not a blemish on her porcelain skin. The kind of face that made men break vows and women watch their husbands a little closer.

Her long, honey-blonde hair was tied in a lazy ponytail, strands escaping to frame a face that looked too innocent for the venom spilling out of her mouth.

She was hunched over on her seat, slamming her phone screen repeatedly with a trembling finger, muttering curses under her breath. Her cheeks were flushed, mascara smudged at the edges of her eyes. Hurt, fury, dread, panic radiated off her like a second skin, as she tried to call that person again...it seemed but they weren’t picking up anymore.

"God, no! Pick up, you fucker!"

Their eyes met. For a moment, the young woman’s expression flickered with recognition. She gasped, quickly raising to her feet like some subordinate meeting her boss that she admired for the first time.

"M– Mrs. Blackwood."

Anita’s fingers twitched but her confidence and aura didn’t diminish at all.

She gave the girl a curt nod and walked past her and took a seat, two chairs over. Not close enough to start a conversation, nor far enough to seem aloof.

She crossed her legs and adjusted her white woolen coat. But the young lady’s gaze didn’t move away from her. They were shining with admiration and respect. She stood there, as if deliberate if she could cross the line with this icon.

After what seemed like a forever battle, she stepped over the line.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Blackwood. I’m... I’m Tessa Lane."

Anita turned her head, just slightly. Enough to show acknowledgment, not encouragement. Her gaze flicked up and down her, oh-my-god perfect body.

Her body shape was the kind that made designers weep with joy – an effortless hourglass. She looked like a size 4, maybe a 6 at most. Slim waist, high hips, full chest, and long legs. That kind of frame...slim but womanly... was a weapon in the wrong hands, and Anita could tell this girl had wielded it more than once, whether she meant to or not.

She wore a simple outfit – black baggy pants and a crop beige hoodie – but on her, it looked like casual luxury. Not a single roll, no awkward curve, no part of her that looked anything but smooth and soft and effortless.

Anita assessed her. Not in the cold way, no, but in the calm, restrained manner of a woman who measured people before letting them speak freely in her air.

Tessa twisted her hands nervously. "I...I’m your biggest fan. But I know this probably isn’t the place to... fangirl or whatever. You probably get that all the time. But I just—God, you always look so put together. Like nothing touches you." Her voice cracked slightly. "I wish I had half your strength."

Anita regarded her a moment longer before looking forward again. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet but firm. "Strength isn’t about how you look in public. It’s what you do when no one’s watching."

Tessa blinked, digesting that. Her lip quivered a bit, but she bit it down.