My fingers fumbled at the padlock, slick with sweat as I unlocked it swiftly, yanking the door open with one hard pull.
The sight stole the air from my lungs. A chill settled on my skin, running down my spine.
I rushed into the room, my body freezing at the sight of lifeless Bianca, still lying naked on the bed. Her skin, pale and ghostlike, glistened with sweat and bruises; angry, red, and swollen like they had just been inflicted. Her face was devoid of color, her lips parted, and silent.
My eyes widened and trembled involuntarily. My breath caught, but my legs locked at the edge of the bed. Her scent hung in the air, thick, familiar, clinging to me, refusing to fade.
Why is she like this?
What the heck is wrong with her?
Without thinking, I pulled out my phone and dialed Jack's number immediately. Dropping the phone on the bed, my chest heaved, my lungs too tight to take in air. Panic clawed its way up my throat like fire.
I had never felt this way in my life. Desperation made my body move.
Then it flickered in my mind, and I found my legs staggering over to the closet to retrieve a gown. I slowly removed the chains and draped the dress over her lifeless frame.
A surge of guilt consumed me as I remembered what I had done.
She can't be dead.
No, I nudged myself, shaking off that startling thought. Just then, a knock came at the door, and it creaked open.
My eyes darted toward it as Doctor Jack hurried into the room. I stepped aside briefly, watching as he checked her and began the process.
I couldn't watch. I couldn't blink.
Tears burned unexpectedly at the corners of my eyes as my gaze remained fixed on her pale face with swollen, parted, red lips.
The wait felt endless as I paced around the room in a restless daze, my hands clapping together with every passing second. My gaze lingered on the doctor.
Then it happened. Dr. Jack stopped and turned to look at me, his expression blank. My throat ran dry.
What I feared was finally staring me in the face. My breath hitched, eyes wide with dread, my heart pounding like it would break free from its cage.
"Mr. Alex, I'm sorry, but…"
He never finished.
I rushed at him, clutched his collar, my grip so tight he whimpered. His arms struggled beneath my grasp.
"You…" he stammered, eyes glancing at my clenched fists. A jolt of sanity hit me and I let go.
He stumbled back as I rushed over to Bianca, who still lay motionless.
I reached for her hand. It was cold. Too cold. My chest tightened, and for a moment, the room vanished. There was only her, and the silence.
"Bianca," I called out, the name heavy on my lips.
"Get a grip, Mr. Alex," Jack said, slowly approaching me, one hand still rubbing his neck.
"It's not too bad now, but if it's delayed any further…" he trailed off.
I narrowed my gaze at him.
"What do you mean?"
"She'll be fine soon. But I'm sorry, she needs an urgent heart transplant." He paused to observe my reaction.
I sniffed, blinking reflexively, the words hitting hard.
"Her heart is weak. The surgery shouldn't be delayed beyond a month," he added, sliding his hands into his pockets.
I winced. His words struck like a hammer. My mind blanked as I stood and walked toward the window, pressing my hand against the cold glass. My eyes wandered over the view as memories from ten years ago flashed back, sadness, bitterness, pain.
"What happens if she isn't operated on?" I asked quietly.
"Then I'm sorry, we'll lose her. And that would be disastrous," he said emphatically.
I ran my hands through my hair, gripping tight. His words echoed, cutting deep.
"I'll take my leave now. She should wake in about an hour," he said, picking up his bag and walking out of the room.
I remained fixed at the window, every damn memory replaying in my head, vivid as if it were happening again. Then I turned and looked at the sleeping Bianca. Her face was still pale.
Without a word, I walked out, closing the door behind me, then called Sonia, who arrived almost immediately.
"I want you to keep your eyes on Bianca," I ordered, handing her the padlock. I turned one last time. "Make sure this door stays locked," I added firmly before walking away.
I stumbled to my room and rested my head against the headrest.
Thousands of thoughts cascaded through my mind, each sending a sharp jolt through my body with every passing second.
She knew she was dying, yet she still went ahead with the marriage? Certainly she had a motive.
Something flickered in my chest, and I couldn't stop wondering if this was part of a plan by the Smiths.
Everything felt wrong. I knew it deep in my soul, clear as daylight.
Suddenly, my phone beeped, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pulled it out without checking, my thumb sliding over the screen.
"Still waiting outside. It's pretty late. Cold and scary out here."
Ella.
Without a word, I shoved the phone aside, trying to refocus, but that was too much to ask.
Her thoughts returned; every sweet moment, flooding my heart, surging guilt through my veins.
Was I too harsh dragging Ella out the way I did?
I rubbed at my jaw, then picked up the phone again. My eyes lingered on the message. Every word was steeped in memories.
Slowly, I walked toward the minibar at the side of the room and took out a bottle of whiskey. I poured it straight into my mouth, wincing as the liquor burned its way down.
My feet tapped restlessly on the tiled floor, caught between sorrow and unresolved tension.
Without a word, I set the bottle down and headed for the door with my phone in hand.
I was just about to enter the passage downstairs when someone ran up to me. I turned. It was the maid.
"Boss, I don't know what's happening to Ma'am Bianca," she said, her voice trembling, her body filled with dread.
I didn't know how to feel.
Wasn't she supposed to be awake in an hour?
I glanced at my wristwatch. Barely thirty minutes had passed.
I took a deep breath, trying to stay composed, and followed Sonia, ignoring the growing fear in her eyes.
The air felt thick with tension, crawling with uncertainty. My heart tugged with intensity, my hand trembling as it reached for the door handle…