Tires screeched against the asphalt as Raymond’s SUV skidded to a halt in front of the hospital entrance. The engine was still running when Raymond flung the door open.“Help!” he bellowed, his voice raw. “Someone help me!”Nurses and doctors on the night shift bolted outside, a few pushing a stretcher as fast as their legs could carry them. The emergency lights overhead painted the scene in alternating glows of red and blue, throwing shadows across Raymond’s pale, blood-splattered face.A nurse reached them, and Olive was still in the back seat, her body slumped, barely conscious—limp, lips parted, skin ghostly pale.“She’s losing blood fast,” one nurse said, already checking her pulse. “We need to move now!”Raymond stood frozen for a second, his driver had gripped the wheel the whole drive over. The driver had run red lights, ignored horns, nearly crashed into a divider—did anything to get her here fast. And still, it felt like time had betrayed them.“Sir, we need you to step bac
The doctor who had just left Raymond, his mind still whirling from the revelations he’d heard, he had barely started a conversation with Raymond when a nurse came out of Olive ward, her voice was loud enough for anyone to hear“Doctor! It’s miss Olive—her condition has worsen!”His heart plummeted. Without thinking, he spun around and sprinted after the nurse, his white coat billowing behind him like a ghost. He burst into the ward just as a shrill, piercing alarm exploded from Olive’s monitor. The steady beep that had filled the room earlier was now a high-pitched flatline. Every second felt like an eternity.“Code Blue!” a nurse shouted, already pushing the crash cart toward Olive’s bed.“Clear the area! Move! Move!” the doctor ordered, snapping into action as his team swarmed around Olive’s fragile frame.Raymond stood outside the ward, his eyes glued to the scene through the narrow glass window of the half-glass door. His hands gripped his hair tightly, and he took a step back, sh
The surgeon had barely stepped out when the nurse came in, her face drawn and serious. She didn’t speak at first—just walked up quietly and placed the clipboard on the table in front of Raymond, the pen tucked neatly on top.“Mr. Raymond,” she said softly, “we need your signature to begin.”He stared at the form like it was a ticking bomb.His fingers moved, slow and stiff, as he picked up the pen. The paper blurred in front of his eyes. Words like emergency surgery, low survival rate, and informed consent danced across the page like ghosts. His eyes paused on her name—Olive Bennett.It felt wrong, so wrong, to see her name there like that. Like a patient. Like a case file. Not the woman who lit up a room with her laughter, who argued with him when they first met, not even like some one who made him feel whole even when he swore he was broken.He tightened his grip on the pen, his knuckles going white.But instead of signing, he slammed it down.The sound snapped through the room like
Raymond’s footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, too loud in the stillness. His mind felt fogged, clouded by the chaos of the operating room and the fear gnawing at him. He barely registered the click of his shoes as they hit the polished floor, each step a reminder that Olive was somewhere beyond his reach, fighting for her life.His hand found the wall, and he gripped it, trying to steady himself. The cool surface didn’t provide the comfort he was hoping for. It felt like nothing could.Behind him, the soft shuffle of another pair of footsteps made him pause. He didn’t have to turn around to know it was Daniel, his assistant. He could feel the weight of the man’s presence, the tension hanging between them. When the footsteps stopped, Raymond didn’t need to look. He already knew what was coming.“Sir,” Daniel’s voice broke through the silence, soft but heavy with concern. “How’s miss Olive?”Raymond’s chest tightened. He wanted to say something—anything—to reassure him, to reassure h
Raymond straightened, his jaw tight with fury as he turned toward Daniel. His eyes, darkened with an emotion that was barely contained, bore into his assistant."Stay here, Daniel," Raymond ordered coldly, his voice like ice. "Keep the perimeter guarded. No one gets into her ward, take the deatails and sights of each medical personnel ."I don't want another mistake.Daniel didn’t question it. His expression betrayed nothing, but his instincts screamed at him to go with Raymond. He didn’t. Not this time. Raymond was a man on the edge, and Daniel knew better than anyone that this was the moment when even the calmest of men could break.“Understood, Sir,” Daniel replied, his voice tight, but he stood firm. He wasn’t going anywhere. Raymond was going to face this alone.Raymond’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, a silent acknowledgment before he turned on his heel, moving swiftly down the hall. There was a calculated coldness in his steps, a force of nature that could not be ignored.“
Not long after Raymond left the hospital for the dark room, Ethan was rushed in on a stretcher.“Make way! Gunshot victim!” one of the paramedics shouted as they pushed through the emergency entrance, the automatic doors flinging open with a hiss.The wheels of the stretcher rattled against the tiled floor as chaos erupted in the brightly lit ER.Ethan was barely conscious, his head tilted to the side as he mumbled something no one could hear.Blood soaked through the makeshift bandage wrapped around his leg—dark red and frightening.Ezra ran alongside the stretcher, gripping Ethan’s hand tightly. His other hand was clenched into a fist, knuckles white.“Please!” Ezra begged, looking at the nurse closest to him. “Please make sure my brother’s okay. He’s losing too much blood. He’s—he’s all I have!”“We need trauma!” someone shouted. “Page Dr. Hawkins now! We need a clamp on that artery before we lose him!”A flurry of motion followed. One nurse took Ethan’s vitals. Another unwrapped t
Ezra sat stiffly in the hospital chair close to Ethan's bed, his fingers clutching Ethan’s hand like it was a lifeline. His brother’s palm was clammy, lifeless, but warm—thank God, still warm.The fluorescent light overhead buzzed, flickering once. The machines beside the bed beeped in a slow, steady rhythm.Ezra hated the sound.He leaned forward, eyes glued to Ethan’s pale face, searching for any flicker of movement, any twitch of his brow—anything that said I’m still here, bro.But Ethan didn’t move.His chest rose and fell shallowly under the white blanket. His leg was heavily bandaged, elevated—the blood loss had almost taken him on arrival. The nurse had told Ezra as much: “He’s stable, for now. But we’re watching him closely.”Ezra couldn’t stop the shaking in his knees. His brother—the one who always acted like he didn’t care, always played the fool just to lighten the mood—was lying there like a damn ghost. It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real.And then, like a slow wave
Ezra had caught a glimpse of Daniel, so he approached him with the hope of finding Raymond.“Hello,” Ezra greeted, his voice steady but cautious.Daniel didn’t acknowledge him right away, keeping his attention firmly fixed on Olive’s door, like it was the only thing worth focusing on at that moment. His stance was rigid, almost like a soldier guarding an important post. Every muscle in his body seemed wound tight—a simmering tension that Ezra could almost feel from where he stood.Nurses were moving about hurriedly, attending to one patient or another. But none of them dared approach Daniel. They respected the silent authority he carried—one that demanded you either obey or keep your distance.Ezra shifted his weight, clearing his throat. "I’m Ezra," he said again, though there was still no reaction. "Ethan's brother."Daniel barely spared him a glance. His jaw tightened, eyes never wavering from the door. Ezra hesitated, unsure whether he should press on or let the silence stretch.“
"Ezra, you're seeing things. Let’s get into the car," Ethan managed to say, steadying his voice even though his own heart was hammering.Ezra kept staring into the distance, like he was hoping she would reappear if he just stared hard enough. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the muscles in his arms twitching with tension. He blinked a few times, swallowed hard, and finally dragged himself toward the car.He didn’t say a word as he climbed into the backseat beside Ethan. The door clicked shut behind him with a soft thud that sounded way too loud in the heavy silence.Their driver, a tall, quiet man dressed in black, gave a small nod and started the engine. He pulled out of the parking lot carefully, obeying every traffic rule like he had all the time in the world.Inside the car, the air was thick and heavy.Ezra stared out the window, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap. His fingers tapped an erratic rhythm against his thigh, his mind obviously still stuc
Ezra looked up to his brother, his eyes bloodshot, the kind of red that told Ethan his brother had been fighting some kind of battle in silence. It was a look that spoke of exhaustion, grief, and something darker, deeper — something Ethan wasn’t ready to face."Come sit closer to me, Ezra," he said, his voice soft but urgent, as if the space between them might be too wide for comfort.Ezra shuffled closer, his movements stiff, robotic, as if every inch of him weighed a hundred pounds. He didn’t speak, didn’t meet Ethan’s gaze, just lowered his head and stared at the floor. His hands fidgeted in his lap, twisting and turning, as if he was trying to hold on to something — something that might slip away if he wasn’t careful.Ethan didn’t stop asking questions."What’s going on, man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did something happen?"But Ezra didn’t answer. The silence between them grew louder with each unanswered question, each strained breath. Ethan’s worry deepened.A thousand t
Just as Ezra stood there fighting a losing battle with his own thoughts, the sound of footsteps broke the heavy silence. He barely glanced up.Nurse Janet walked by, balancing a tray of medication in her hands. She paused when she noticed him — a broken figure leaning against the cold wall like he couldn’t keep himself standing straight."Hello," Nurse Janet greeted gently, her voice carrying a kindness that somehow made everything inside Ezra feel worse.It dragged him out of his spiraling thoughts for a moment. He forced himself to stand a little straighter, wiping at his face quickly as if he could hide the tears that had already betrayed him.Nurse Janet offered him a warm smile, her eyes crinkling softly at the corners. "Why are you down like this? You should be happy," she said, balancing the tray carefully. "Your brother’s alive. It’s a thing of joy."Ezra opened his mouth, but no words came out at first. He pressed his lips together, trying to breathe past the tightness in his
"Oh, I see," Raymond said, his voice low and bitter. "That’s your plan, right? Your plan to kill her?"Ezra blinked, stunned, feeling like Raymond had just slapped him across the face."No, Raymond," he said quickly, shaking his head, heart pounding against his ribs. "No... I just want to confirm she's okay."Raymond stared at him slowly, as if he was peeling Ezra apart layer by layer with just his eyes. His gaze was cold. Distant. Dangerous."Ezra," he said, his tone almost mocking, "tell me something… what exactly is your plan? Haven't you done enough already?"Ezra clenched his fists at his sides, feeling the heat rising in his chest. He sucked in a breath, closing his eyes tightly.He opened them again, forcing himself to meet Raymond’s furious glare without flinching."Raymond," Ezra said carefully, steadying his voice, "we might be connected to Olive. Somehow. We just... need to find out the truth."Raymond gave a short, cold laugh. No humor in it. Just pain."Connected?" he rep
The nurse turned and looked at Ezra, her expression unreadable. “Sorry, sir,” she said flatly, then turned away.It was as if the moment never happened. The nurses resumed their tasks in silence, their quiet efficiency louder than any words. Ezra stood there, ears ringing from the weight of what he’d just heard. That silence… it wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t what he needed. He didn’t want calm or polite shrugs—he wanted answers. He wanted someone to tell him that what he heard was wrong.With panic rising in his chest, Ezra spun on his heel and ran down the corridor. He remembered the ward Olive had been in, where Raymond's assistant had guarded the door like his life depended on it.His heart pounded in his ears, his shoes squeaking across the tiles. When he reached the room, he yanked the door open.Empty.The bed was stripped. Machines unplugged. Everything was so neat, it was like she’d never been there.“No. No, no, no—” he whispered, stumbling back a step.A nurse was inside,
Olive lost her childEthan felt like the ground had shifted beneath him. His eyes were fixed on nothing, yet everything around him swirled in chaos. His chest rose and fell sharply as the weight of Ezra’s words settled in.“She… she lost the baby?” His voice cracked, almost too soft to hear.Ezra nodded, his face drawn. “Yeah. The doctor said the trauma and stress were too much.”A silence fell between them.Ethan turned his face away, ashamed. “This is my fault,” he said bitterly. “All of it. If I hadn’t given in to Mia’s manipulations—if I hadn’t allowed my hatred for Raymond to blind me—Olive wouldn’t have been hurt.”Ezra didn’t respond at first. He just sat down beside Ethan’s hospital bed, leaning forward with his hands clasped. His posture was stiff. They had both walked the same path, driven by envy and resentment, thinking they were justified. But now, the consequences stared them down in the most brutal way.“You’re not alone in this,” Ezra finally said. “I let my emotions t
As soon as Ezra bent to pick up the object, Frank had already realized what it was. With desperation fueling his bruised and battered body, he lunged forward, ignoring the searing pain in his ribs, and snatched the phone off the ground before Ezra’s fingers could graze it.Ezra stood up slowly, straightening his jacket with the composure of a man who had not just been in a fight minutes ago. He smirked coldly. “We have to end this here. I have better things to do than stand here breathing the same air as you… unless, of course, you’re asking to die.”Frank chuckled despite the blood dribbling from the side of his mouth. His eyes, though nearly swollen shut, gleamed with something more dangerous than fury—conviction. “Ezra, you really do think highly of yourself.”He lifted the phone, his thumb dangerously close to the screen. “You see this? You’re not getting it back. This time, I’ll make sure it gets to the authorities. You won’t be able to lie your way out of this.”Ezra’s expressio
“What truth are you talking about?” Ezra asked, his voice edged with curiosity as he lifted himself from the body of his car. His head was feeling dizzy because of the stress lately but it seems Frank has something to say about him.A smug smirk played on Frank's lips.“Oh... look who suddenly wants the truth,” he said with a lazy chuckle. “I thought you didn’t give a damn when I exposed you. Or were you too busy playing the villain in a suit to care?”Ezra clenched his jaw, as his fist clenched by his side trying to calm the anger already building up in him.“Speak if you want to speak, and if you don’t—get lost.” His tone was tight, words pushed through gritted teeth.Frank scoffed, walking forward more closer to Ezra this time.“You’re still playing hard when you’re about to be ruined?” His words dripped with taunt, his confidence unwavering.Ezra’s eyes darkened.“Do what suits you. I don’t care. Just don’t bring Olive into this. If you do, you’ll have yourself to blame.”He turne
“I think I know what to do,” Frank muttered under his breath, the tremble in his voice betraying the storm raging within him. His shoes echoed against the sleek hotel floor as he strode toward the hallway, each step fueled by desperation and unresolved regret.He didn’t get far.“Excuse me, sir,” a firm voice cut through the air, halting him mid-stride. Two security men stood in his path, their stance unwavering, their eyes alert.Frank blinked, startled. “What’s this?”“Passage card, sir,” one of the guards demanded.Frank’s hand instinctively darted to his pocket, looking for a card—though he clearly knew he had none.“Hmm… I don’t have any,” he said, trying to maintain composure. “But I think we can talk, man to man.”“No. We don’t do that here,” the guard replied sternly.“Gosh,” Frank muttered. “Why are the people here so strong-headed? First it was the receptionist, now it’s the guards.”He knew there were empty rooms, but the receptionist had refused to give him one.“Okay, how