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Emma was in that weird hungover and depleted state she always experienced after a bad migraine. Docile and weak, she submitted to a physical exam before she realized what she was doing.
“I don’t think you’re covered by my insurance,” she said as the doctor took her vitals.
The Indian woman gave her a bright smile, putting her stethoscope aside. “Don’t worry, this consultation has already been paid for.”
She straightened. “Sorry—is Mr. Chapman your boss or your boyfriend?”
Alarmed, she shook her head, but that made it swim. “Neither.”
“I see…” the doctor said in a tone that implied otherwise.
She gently held Emma’s head still, checking the reaction of her pupils with a penlight. “Did this headache begin after the incident he mentioned where he jostled your head?”
“Is that why he called you?” Emma asked, relaxing. “Because of the parking garage?”
The doctor’s brows rose a touch, but her focus remained on her examination.
“He was concerned it was related. But your cousin mentioned a long history of migraines after your accident. I had a quick peek at your medical records, so I saw that for myself, but their overall duration is not as well-documented. On average, how long would you say they last?”
She tried to clear the fog by yawning. “A day or two but I try and sleep when they’re really bad so it’s hard to say.”
The second part of the doctor’s words registered. “Wait, how did you get my medical records?”
“I believe your cousin gave them to Mr. Chapman and he forwarded them to me.”
“Oh,” she said, nonplussed.
Her mother had insisted Pedro have the power to make medical decisions for her, in case Emma needed to be hospitalized again. That meant her records were at his disposal. But she hadn’t expected him to share that information with anyone, let alone some strange man.
Although she shouldn’t have been surprised.
Pedro didn’t have an assertive personality. An alpha male like Garrett Chapman would steamroll right over him.
What in the world was she going to do about him?
Emma had expected the kitten delivery last night to be the last time she ever saw him. She had gone out of her way to let him know he was off the hook. But he didn’t seem to be getting the message.
Weren’t billionaires supposed to be assholes? Wasn’t that a universal truth? Could it be he was taking this secret of my success-debt-thing seriously? Or was this all fueled by his pity?
Of course, it’s pity.
There was a reason Emma had a no-contact policy with everyone who knew her before the accident. Not that many of her old friends had been beating down her door since she’d woken in the hospital.
Her mother was still angry over the way so many of them had dropped her after the accident. But in retrospect, Emma was nothing but grateful. That handful of painfully awkward visits with old friends had taught her an important lesson.
For some people, there was no going home again, even when you still lived there.
The doctor began putting her equipment away. “I understand you’ve had a recent CT scan, but I would like you to come in for an MRI this afternoon.”
Emma blinked. “Today?”
The doctor nodded. “Mr. Chapman has already arranged it, but if you can’t make the scheduled appointment, we can find a slot for tomorrow.”
Just how much money did Garrett Chapman have? Because in her experience, no doctor was this accommodating. Come to think of it, they also never made house calls.
“Do you need to move the appointment?”
Emma shook her head. “No. I wasn’t scheduled to work today.”