FIVE

•SIRENA•

“What do you mean… poisoned?”Jonathan's voice quivered, barely escaping his lips in a whisper, each word infused with a potent blend of urgency and disbelief.

The corridor plunged into an eerie silence as the twin brothers locked eyes, their identical faces reflecting a mixture of unbeknownst emotions.

A subtle head tilt was all that emanated from Joshua, his piercing gaze narrowing ever so slightly.

As if receiving an unspoken cue, Jonathan’s attention swiftly shifted, his gaze fixating on me.

In that bone-chilling moment, my heart seized, and its rhythm shattered into oblivion.

Time itself seemed to halt, leaving me suspended in a suffocating void of tension.

A tidal wave of panic crashed over me, squeezing my chest with an iron grip.

The sheer weight of the accusation bore down on me!

Me!

The realization struck with a force that sent tremors of fear rushing through my veins.

How could they even fathom the notion that I, of all people, bore the responsibility for poisoning Damian?

The very thought twisted my insides with an unsettling mixture of dread and incredulity.

Not that the idea hadn't slithered into the darkest recesses of my mind. Not that Damian, with his cruel behavior and twisted actions, didn't deserve some form of retribution.

But the mere suggestion of my involvement ignited a primal fear within me, a fear of the unknown consequences that awaited, of the irreversible damage to my reputation, my freedom, my papa, and perhaps even my very existence.

"No... no... no..." I stammered, my voice trembling with fear. Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill over as l desperately tried to make my voice heard. "You've got it all wrong…”

Someone brushed past me, dismissively interrupting me.

It was Michael, Jonathan’s secretary, impeccably dressed, as always, in a grey tweed three-piece suit.

I hadn't noticed him up till now.

I had only met him once before- during the signing of the deal with Jonathan, a moment that now felt like a cruel twist of fate.

It was Michael who handed me a pen to sign the deal - a seemingly insignificant act that I regarded as a routine gesture. Unbeknownst to me, that very pen, innocently grasped in my hand, would become the instrument that sealed my own downfall.

“Tell them to step back,” Jonathan commanded.

Oh, he was the one being stared at.

A sigh of relief escaped from my lips.

As Michael brushed past me once more, this time possibly with intent, Jonathan's attention shifted toward me. For sure this time.

His gaze this time possessed a certain gentleness.

“Let's go in, my dear,” he whispered tenderly, leading me towards the room, with Joshua and Maria following closely behind.

Maria had been unusually silent since Joshua broke the news.

I suppose even those blessed with wealth had a trace of compassion deep within their hearts.

Inside, Joshua must have signaled the two nurses to give us space since they dropped whatever they were doing before we came in and left.

The room was a marvel. My eyes couldn't believe how enormous and tastefully decorated it was.

I have heard rumors about VIP wards. Hell, I have even tried writing about it in one of my novels, and all I can say is that I didn't do it justice.

There were even plush armchairs and a small coffee table.

Jonathan guided me to an armchair while Maria proceeded to the bedridden monster, Damian.

“My precious son,” she cried.

She was his mother of course. Even heartless monsters have caring mothers and here I was, abandoned by my own.

What an irony.

My thoughts were interrupted by Michael’s entrance.

“So you were saying?”Maria let out almost immediately Micheal had shut the door.

“His symptoms and lab results suggest it is a Jimson weed poisoning,” Joshua announced, searching our faces before he continued. “Jimson weed is a toxic plant…”

“Everybody here is much aware of what the devil’s trumpets are, Joshua.”

It was Jonathan, who was now standing beside Maria, his arm on her shoulder in a consoling manner.

It was then that my eyes involuntarily laid on my tormentor, whom I had struggled to avoid looking at since entering the room.

There he was, laying still, his body appearing serene and motionless beneath the sterile white sheets. His eyes were closed, as if in a peaceful slumber.

The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was the only indication of life, accompanied by the soft whirring of the medical equipment monitoring their vital signs. Tubes and wires connected them to various machines.

I averted my eyes almost immediately, my gaze returning to Joshua, who stood resolutely in the center of the room.

I shouldn't feel sorry for him. “Yes, Sirena, you shouldn't,” I cautioned myself.

Especially not with what he had made me go through.

"Would he be alright?" Maria's voice trembled.

My heart stopped at the sight of tears streaming down her cheeks.

She loved him.

Instantly I felt sorry for her.

No mother deserved to endure that. My own mother not included.

“Well, I’ve administered him 2.0 mg of Physostigmine to reverse the anticholinergic toxicity.” Joshua continued. “All we can do now is hope for him to regain consciousness and conduct further tests."

“How long till he wakes up?” Jonathana’s voice erupted as Michael walked over to him.

Joshua’s voice was heavy with the weight of uncertainty “Can't say for certain. Recovery varies greatly from person to person. It might take hours, days, or even months at most.”

Michael whispered something to Jonathan and his demeanor changed instantly.

“We certainly can't have this blowing up now when we’re on the verge of sealing the partnership deal with the Vanderbilts next week,” Jonathan said afterward.

His face was blank of any expression. Not even a crease of concern.

“Your son's life is hanging by a thread here, and all you can think of is your God damned partnership?” Maria came at him sharply, her voice tinged with anger. “Your priorities should be in the right place, Jonathan!”

For once I agreed with Maria.

This was his son. His heir.

It seemed like the rumors of how indifferent the wealthy can be held some truth.

“You should be seeking answers. About how he came into contact with Jimson weed? How readily available it can be,” Maria’s eyes met with mine, the loathe and anger visible. “And who might have administered it to him!”

I swallowed into nothing.

“Not again.” I pleaded internally as I realized what she was aiming at.

She was openly and directly accusing me of poisoning her son.

Panic consumed me.

“Please, Maria, get hold of yourself," Jonathan interjected, his voice calm. "Your words imply that Damian is somehow incapable or naive, which we know is far from the truth. Let's approach this situation with clarity and reason, rather than resorting to wild accusations."

“What we need now is crisis management. Somewhat of a distraction. A big distraction enough to shift the public’s attention even if the media catches wind of what had happened.”

It was Michael.

“You shut your mouth!” Maria half screamed.

Her eyes glared at him with an undeniable animosity, as if they could pierce through his being.

If eyes could kill, both I and Michael would have been long dead.

“What about a Crown wedding? That would be big enough.” Joshua finally spoke, staring at me.

“You all must be going crazy.” Maira blurted out and I couldn't have agreed more. “There won't be any wedding. Now, all of you, get the hell out of this room this instant!”

I stood up hurriedly and made for the door. My heart beating in an unrecognizable rhythm.

Wedding? They all must be sick!

Trailing behind me were Michael and Joshua. Jonathan had stayed behind.

Once outside, I heard the rise and fall of voices in the room.

Joshua left without a word, while Micheal asked me to join him in the car, which I declined.

I waited impatiently for Jonathan, and after a few horrible minutes which seemed like hours, he stepped out.

“You can't possibly be in support of a wedding. It wasn't in the contract.” I confronted him instantly.

“Now it is. And don't even think about letting Maria know of this little arrangement unless you don't ever want to see your father. That wedding is going to be held and you have no choice.”

His voice, low and unnervingly calm, sent shivers down my spine.

The eerie resemblance to Damian was impossible to ignore. He was his father’s son after all.

With that, he drifted off like he hadn't been there.

Maria wasn't also aware of my contract?

That gave me a halt, as the tension within me thickened.

What in the lord’s name was Jonathan Crown up to and what has he gotten me into?

And come to think of it, who am I to wed if Damian was still in a coma? What would people think of me for marrying a widely recognized figure with self-centeredness, arrogance, and psychopathic tendencies? Won't people start to view my works as a mere farce, a mockery of true love and genuine connections?

Many questions raced through my mind.

At that moment, I realized that I had left my phone behind in the room.

Just a few feet away from the door, I heard Maria’s voice, filled with a sinister glee.

"I deserve an Oscar, right?" Her voice reverberated through the room, brimming with a newfound sense of joy.

The animated tone that carried her excitement to the airwaves made it evident that she was on call.

But hearing her so unabashedly happy made me feel strange. Wasn't she being consumed by anger and sadness just moments ago?

The rich are certainly created differently.

Just as my hand touched the doorknob, her voice rose again.

"I know... Maybe we should go for Nightshade next time, and Damian would be dead for real."

Time seemed to stand still as her words struck me like lightning. My legs turned to stone, rooted to the spot, while my heart skipped a beat, as if unable to comprehend the implications of her chilling statement.