Power & Despair

Jasmine looked around in shock to find Mr. Hawthorne lying next to her. Her desire to avoid succumbing to sleep had now turned into regret. Frustration crept in, her carelessness had brought them both to the same bed.

As Jasmine tried to get out of bed, Mr. Hawthorne suddenly grabbed her hand, having been awakened by her movement. Despite Jasmine’s attempts to free herself, her resistance was futile against Mr. Hawthorne's firm grip.

Mr. Hawthorne glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand and said, “It’s seven in the morning, and it’s still too early for you to continue this power play.”

“What are you talking about? Let go of my hand!” Jasmine snapped.

Mr. Hawthorne smirked, mocking her. “Where do you think you can run to? Do you want to jump out of the building again? Your death won’t affect my life.”

With fiery eyes, Jasmine challenged him, “I know you have power and can do anything, but there’s one thing you’ll never control, and that’s me. I’d rather die than deal with someone as deceitful as you!”

Through those sharp words, Jasmine created a profound tension between them. Mr. Hawthorne had never enjoyed waking up in such an irritating manner.

“The pool water hasn’t cleared your mind, apparently,” Mr. Hawthorne retorted coldly.

The tension thickened, their opposing gazes meeting once more. Mr. Hawthorne got up and pulled Jasmine towards him, their bodies colliding. The feeling of dominance grew stronger as Mr. Hawthorne refused to let her escape from the forced proximity.

Mr. Hawthorne’s fingers touched Jasmine’s shirt buttons, attempting to unfasten them. Before he could proceed, Jasmine swung her hand to slap the insolent man who intended to touch her body. However, the slap failed as Mr. Hawthorne swiftly caught Jasmine’s hand. His eyes glanced at the hand so close to his cheek, and he grinned mischievously.

Mr. Hawthorne sniffed her palm and kissed it suddenly, an act that triggered a sense of disgust in Jasmine. Mr. Hawthorne’s touch exceeded physical boundaries, his actions felt like a psychological manipulation. Jasmine sensed a threatening bond if she didn’t escape from the intimacy’s pressure.

“You’re stirred by just a small kiss on your hand, your body feels warm,” Mr. Hawthorne smiled seductively, then let his kiss trail gently up her inner arm.

Mr. Hawthorne relished his role as a predator, enjoying the satisfaction of asserting his dominance. On the other hand, Jasmine showed no reaction as her gaze slowly dimmed. Mr. Hawthorne noticed Jasmine’s body growing heavier, and he stopped his seductive advance.

Mr. Hawthorne frowned as he observed Jasmine slumped in his embrace. “Miss Everhart,” he called, but Jasmine didn’t respond, enough to make doubt creep into his mind. “You’re not pretending to faint to avoid your fate, are you?”

Mr. Hawthorne sighed deeply and said, “Thomas, your daughter is not only stubborn but also quite troublesome.”

Mr. Hawthorne laid Jasmine down and then the sound of conversation on the phone filled the room. Dr. Calum Lawson would soon arrive at the penthouse to examine Jasmine’s condition.

***

With his final breath echoing in the room, Dr. Lawson concluded his examination. He put away his stethoscope and walked out without a word. Mr. Hawthorne, who had been observing the examination, followed the doctor out.

Dr. Lawson did not want to disturb his patient and chose to speak outside. He waited patiently until his friend stood before him, then he spoke.

“You had me rush here only to find a patient with a fever. I’ll prescribe medication to lower her temperature. Make sure she stays hydrated and gets plenty of rest,” Dr. Lawson said with dedication.

Mr. Hawthorne nodded. “I understand,” he replied, his voice still uneasy.

In the silence that filled the room, Dr. Lawson chose to start another conversation. “Did Miss Everhart faint in the middle of making love, making you so anxious?”

“Not entirely right, but not entirely wrong either. I did intend to make love to her before she fainted,” Mr. Hawthorne confessed, a mix of acknowledgment and irony in his tone.

Dr. Lawson struggled to hold back laughter, but it eventually erupted.

“What’s so funny?” Mr. Hawthorne appeared displeased with the reaction.

Dr. Lawson continued laughing, wiping his teary eyes. With a lighthearted smile, he commented, “I didn’t expect a woman to get a fever just from being with you.”

Mr. Hawthorne clicked his tongue, his hands resting on his hips with a serious expression. “It’s because of what happened last night. She considered jumping off this building because she didn’t want to be my mistress. I tried to clear her mind by throwing her into the pool.”

Dr. Lawson listened attentively, reflecting for a moment before saying, “Throwing a woman into the pool isn’t a kind gesture, Kins. But I’d agree if you did it to stop a suicide attempt. You know, even hospitals provide tranquilizers like antipsychotics to reduce symptoms of resistance or agitation.”

Dr. Lawson’s expression turned to astonishment as he added, “But... you want to make her your mistress?”

Mr. Hawthorne sat down on the sofa, skillfully lighting a cigarette. He propped his feet up and leaned back, his eyes staring at the coffee table as if searching for answers in its surface.

“Her father stole from me, and I don’t know where he’s hiding. I brought her here to pay for her father’s debt.”

Dr. Lawson realized their conversation would be long and serious, so he sat down as well. “Your cruelty runs deep,” he said, understanding his friend’s character well.

Mr. Hawthorne exhaled cigarette smoke. “I have my reasons.”

“Still cruel,” Dr. Lawson muttered. “By the way, haven’t you considered the level of frustration someone might experience when they are in a hopeless situation? She could become a liability for you. I don’t think keeping her in your penthouse is a good move.”

“Are you worried about me?”

“There are three reasons why I’m saying this. First, because you’re my patient who always shows up unexpectedly. Second, because your wealth is the foundation of the hospital where I work. And third, because I don’t want to lose my job if the hospital shuts down. I’m worried about myself.”

“That doesn’t sound like it.”

Dr. Lawson sighed, feeling the moral weight on his shoulders. Reluctantly, he said, “Alright, I am worried about you. Are you satisfied?”

Mr. Hawthorne grinned at Dr. Lawson’s honesty. He put out his cigarette and calmly placed his hands on his thighs. “She won’t dare to do it.”

“Like I said earlier, someone in a hopeless position might do anything to get out of their predicament. You need to watch out for that, Kins,” Dr. Lawson advised. “I don’t want to lose a friend like you.”

Mr. Hawthorne’s gaze accidentally landed on Jasmine, who stood hesitantly on the stairs. “She prefers death to being my mistress, that already proves her weakness and inability,” he muttered, then confidently crossed the room to Jasmine’s position.