Chapter 4

I've decided to go home instead of continuing my duty at the bar. This has been a long night, and even though I know I should stay and finish my shift, I just can't bring myself to do it. My mind is exhausted, and I need some rest before facing another day of work tomorrow. Besides, Mom has no one to take care of her at home.

When I finally burst through the door, I’m hit by a cold silence. The air feels thick, too still, like something’s terribly wrong.

“Mom?” I call, stepping further into the living room.

But then my blood turns to ice as I see her lying unconscious on the floor. She's crumpled like a rag doll, and her face is pale.

“Mom!” I cry out, rushing to her side. I kneel beside her, trembling, my hands shaking as I press them to her cold skin. There’s no movement. 

I scramble for my phone, hoping to call for help, but when I swipe it on, my stomach drops. The screen is black. Completely dead.

"No, no, no!"

I push myself up and rush to the door, my eyes darting around the hallway as I knock on the nearest apartment door.

“Please! I need help. Please, someone help me!”

There’s no response.

I bang harder, my fist pounding on the door. “Please, just help! She’s dying!”

Finally, the door creaks open, just slightly, and I can barely make out James, one of my apathetic apartment mates, peering out with an annoyed expression.

“What is it, Clara?” he asks with a yawn.

“My mom passed out! Please, help me!” I plead.

James looks me over, flicking his eyes between me and the empty hallway before staring back at me. “I can't help you, Clara. Sorry,” he says flatly.

Before I can even respond, he slams the door in my face, without a second thought.

I stand frozen in place. My body shakes, but it’s not from the cold; it’s from the rejection. People I live with can’t even be bothered to help me.

I bolt down the stairs even though I have no idea where I'm going. I don’t care anymore. I just need someone.

Then, I hear the sound of an engine roaring in the distance. I glance up, barely registering the sleek, dark sports car. Its tires screech slightly as it halts in front of me. 

I don't know that car. But I know that face.

Mr. Langston.

Before I can process anything, he steps out of the car with a quick, measured stride, locking his eyes onto mine. 

“You stare like you’ve seen a ghost.” He frowns.

“What are you doing here?” I demand. “How did you know where I live?”

Zachary’s frown deepens, his teeth clenching as he growls, “For your first question, Ella wakes up asking for you, and the stubborn princess won’t stop whining until I promise to find you. Second, I have your resume, remember?”

I blink, trying to process his words, but then he jabs a finger in my direction. “What is it about you, Clara? Why is my sister so damn fond of you?”

My patience snaps. “You know the answer already, sir. It’s because no one else pays attention to her!” 

His jaw clenches, and I can feel he is about to deliver another word. But I’m not in the mood to argue. I turn away, running toward the nearest house and pounding on the door again.

“Help me!” I scream, banging harder. “Please!”

Zachary’s hand clamps around my wrist, pulling me back. “Hey, hey! Don’t act as if I’m going to kidnap you, Miss Hale. If you don’t want Ella to bother you again, come to me and say it directly to her face so we can both live in peace.”

“I just want to save my mother! She’s in our apartment, unconscious!” I spit, yanking my arm free.

“Your mother?” His eyes narrow, and without another word, he brushes past me and storms into the building. I want to tell him my floor and room number, but he seems to know it already. Of course, he read through my resume.

When we arrive in the unit, he bends down and effortlessly scoops my mother into his arms. It only took him a few minutes to reach the base and in front of his car.

“Open the car door. Now!” he barks.

Still stunned, I obey, fumbling to open the back door of his car. He carefully lays my mother inside, her head resting gently against the seat. I climb in beside her as I try to check her pulse again while the car hits the road as though we were in a race against time.

***

The drive to the hospital feels endless. But for some reason, I’m thanking God that he delivers the grumpy Zachary into my apartment. The man doesn't just drop us in the hospital. He wastes no time, flagging down everyone in the ER and demanding immediate attention.

Minutes turn into hours, and the world feels like it’s spinning out of control. When the doctor finally emerges, he says, “She’s stable now. But because of this another stroke episode, she needs to go under operation.”

“What’s the cost of the operation, doc?” I ask, hugging myself.

“The procedure she needs will be costly. Millions, likely.”

I feel the ground crumble beneath me. “M-Millions?”

Zachary steps forward. “Do the procedure,” he says firmly. “I’ll cover the cost.”

The doctor nods and is gone in a nanosecond.

When I turn to Zachary, I say, “Thank you, but why would you do that?”

“Consider it returning a favor. You saved my sister’s life. Now I’m saving your mother’s.”

His words are logical, almost transactional, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more beneath them. “You don’t do anything without a motive,” I say, recalling what he has said when I interrupted his moment with that woman, Sophie. “You will help because you want to gain something.”

He pauses, running a hand through his hair as he exhales heavily. “Fine. I’ll admit it. I do have a motive. Be my sister’s personal maid.”

I blink. “What?”

“You heard me, Clara Isabelle Hale.” His eyes thin as he leans closer, and his next words come to a rough whisper. “If you refuse, I’ll make sure that nightclub gets shut down for good so you lose your job and everyone else’s."