?<strong>Chapter 500:</strong>


    “Bang!”


    The door to the studio was suddenly kicked open, the sound echoing harshly in the silent night.


    “Shit! Are you out of your mind? Why didn’t you discuss this with Mr. Tucker first? Others would kill for a spot here.” Irving stormed in, the chill of the night clinging to his leather jacket.


    Gavin, visibly taken aback and looking even more exhausted, asked, “Why are you here?”


    “Didn’t you tell me Fiona was missing? I’ve been searching for her all day. I just got back and heard her statement. Why can’t I be upset?” Irving snapped.


    Fiona, realizing the impact of her earlier words, looked away, avoiding Irving’s intense gaze.


    Irving strode over to her, his anger palpable as he stood before her and demanded, “So, you want to quit? You don’t want to be part of this anymore? You think there is a gap between us?”


    He fired off the questions, but Fiona remained silent, as if she hadn’t heard a thing.


    Irving’s anger dissolved into mockingughter. “What, having regrets now? You’ve said those words; you can’t unsay them. Fiona Evans, you’re such a hypocrite!”


    “Yes, I am a hypocrite. I’m despicable. Elyse is the best, right? Irving Dunn, I’m so tired of your temper,” Fiona retorted, pushing Irving away forcefully as she made to leave the studio.


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    Irving moved to stop her, but Gavin held him back.


    “Enough, calm down. Both of you are angry, and things get said in the heat of the moment. I’ll talk to her.”


    Irving, momentarily lost for words, asked, “Should I go home?”


    Gavin reminded him, “Call Elyse. She won first prize. You haven’t congratted her yet, have you?”


    Irving pped his forehead. “Gosh! I forgot. It’s all because you told me Fiona was missing, so I spent the whole day on my motorcycle looking for her around the city and forgot to congratte Elyse.”


    “Hurry up and call her, or she’ll be upset with you,” Gavin urged.


    Irving knew Elyse’s temperament well. If she were upset with him over this, he knew he’d have to go out of his way to make amends the next day.


    How could he possibly look forward to that? So, after Gavin departed, Irving crossed his legs on the couch and dialed Elyse’s number.


    Elyse answered the call with a frail voice, “Hello, Irving, what’s up?”


    Irving cleared his throat slightly before replying, “I’m calling to congratte you, Elyse. Take a few days off to rest at home. When you’re back, I’ll teach you the violin.”


    “Thank you, I…” Elyse sounded agreeable, but then her voice trailed off into a retch.


    Concerned, Irving inquired urgently, “What’s wrong, Elyse? Are you feeling alright?”


    Before Elyse could respond, the sounds of her vomiting took over.


    Suddenly, a man’s voice emerged from the other end of the call. “This is Clive, Elyse’s friend. She’s in the hospital. It might be a few days before she can return to your studio; she’s quite unwell.”


    Irving’s brow furrowed with concern. “What happened to her? Did she have an upset stomach?”


    Clive nced over at Elyse, who was still bent over the toilet. “No, it’s not food-rted. She’s pregnant.”


    Irving breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, she’s pregnant. That’s good. At least it’s not food poisoning.”


    A few secondster, his voice trembled as he asked, “She’s pregnant? You mean Elyse Lloyd?”


    Clive responded sincerely, “Yes, I was surprised too. Her condition will be more apparent soon, and it won’t stay hidden for long. That’s why I felt you should know the truth.”


    Stunned, Irving struggled to keep his phone steady. “Which hospital is she in now?” he inquired.


    “In the inpatient building, Ward 806, Crestwell Healthcare Center,” Clive responded.


    “I’ll be right there,” Irving dered. He sprang up so quickly he nearly toppled over, then hurried to his motorcycle and sped off towards the hospital.


    After a while, Elyse’s nausea seemed to subside. She epted a tissue from Clive and inquired, “What did Irving say?”


    Clive gently patted her back, softening his voice, “He’s on his way to see you. I gave him your ward number.”


    With Clive’s assistance, Elyse slowly exited the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed, looking worn out.


    Clive expressed his concern, “Are you hungry? You only managed a bowl of cereal earlier, and you threw that up. You must be feeling pretty weak.”


    Elyse responded with a nod, rubbing her stomach. “It’s rough. I’ve been vomiting all day. My stomach is on fire,” she said, her voiceden with distress.


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