"The procedure was successful," he stated. "Victoria's body is accepting the treatment. The baby's vitals have improved significantly."
"I need my medication," I whispered. "My heart—"
Alexander checked his watch. "The healers say you're exaggerating your symptoms again. You should try to be less dramatic."
I reached for the call button, but he moved it out of my reach.
"Alexander, please," I gasped. "My pills are in my purse."
With a look of annoyance, he rifled through my bag, finding the small orange bottle. Instead of handing it to me, he studied the label.
"These are expensive," he remarked coldly. "Another drain on resources that could be going to Victoria and the baby."
As my breathing became more labored, he finally tossed the bottle onto the bed, just beyond my reach. I struggled to grasp it with trembling fingers.
"You know," he said, watching me struggle, "you should really stop this childish behavior. It's embarrassing at your age."
I managed to swallow a pill dry, waiting for the medicine to ease the crushing pressure in my chest.
Alexander's phone chimed with a message. His entire appearance changed as he read it, his face softening.