The scene descended into chaos. Kimberly, still wheelchair-bound, burst into panicked sobs as she tried to roll herself forward, only to be stopped by one of the staff. Harry dropped to his knees beside Ana's unconscious body, his hands trembling as he gently cradled her head.
"Call the doctor now!" he roared, his voice breaking.
Ana lay still, her face pale, lips slightly parted. Blood oozed from a cut on her forehead, and her arm was bent awkwardly at an unnatural angle. Harry pressed his forehead to hers, murmuring desperate words under his breath.
"Please… please don't do this to me, Reina. You promised to trust me…"
The sound of the helicopter in the distance returned this time, it wasn't for a romantic flight but a medical emergency. A team of paramedics rushed onto the field to check on the unconscious Ana.
Harry refused to leave Ana's side, his shirt stained with dirt and her blood as he knelt beside her on the field, whispering her name over and over.
"Her pulse is weak but steady," one paramedic said, checking Ana's vitals as they quickly secured her onto a stretcher.
"She hit her head hard," another murmured. "Possible concussion. We need to get her to the hospital now."
The helicopter lifted with Ana and the medical. Harry climbed in with her, his hand clutching hers the entire time. "Stay with me, Ana. You're going to be fine. Just hang on, baby. Please."
Kimberly, trembling and teary-eyed, motioned for her assistant to push her wheelchair, following closely behind.
Sasha stood frozen at a distance, her lips curled slightly into a smirk that she quickly hid with a faux expression of concern. Soraya, who had caught a glimpse of her expression, narrowed her eyes. Something wasn't right.
At Fairchild General Hospital, she was wheeled in for emergency surgery. Doctors worked tirelessly, scanning for internal bleeding, head trauma, or spinal damage.
Out the emergency room, Harry paced back and forth in anxiety.
"Ana?" he whispered, grabbing her hand and holding it close to his lips. "Please come back to me."
In the stables, tension simmered dangerously.
Soraya walked up to her Sasha with a cold stare.
"You did something," Soraya said flatly. "Don't deny it."
Sasha arched an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"That gunshot wasn't random. I saw your hand before it happened." Soraya's voice sharpened. "Don't play dumb with me, Sasha."
Sasha gave her a sweet, venom-laced smile. "Do you have proof, Soraya?"
"I don't need proof to know you've gone too far this time," Soraya hissed. "This… this could kill her."
Sasha leaned closer, her voice low and chilling. "Let's hope it does."
Soraya's eyes widened in disbelief. "You're sick."
"So?" Sasha shrugged. "She's just a surrogate. I don't like her, and I won't pretend I do. Her life means nothing to me."
Soraya's eyes narrowed.
"You don't like her either," Sasha snapped. "So don't act self-righteous. Watching you try to play the saint is absolutely disgusting."
Soraya stared at her, jaw clenched, then turned and walked away, fury in her chest.
Kimberly arrived at the hospital later with the help of her caregivers. Her face was blotchy from crying . Harry was anxiously waiting outside the emergency room.
"I should've stopped her," Giselle sobbed. "It was supposed to be a fun day…"
"She'll pull through," Harry said, though his voice lacked conviction.
Later that day, Dr. Emma, the head physician, walked in with a clipboard. "Mr. Fairchild, she's stable. No brain injury, no spinal damage, but she dislocated her shoulder and has two cracked ribs. She's very lucky."
Harry exhaled deeply and sank back into the chair, breathing a sigh of relief. Kimberly was relieved.
"Thank you, Doctor "
Later That Night
The hospital's quiet halls echoed with soft beeps and distant footsteps.
Harry sat by Ana's bedside, her hand in his. Her head was bandaged, her face pale but peaceful. Machines hummed steadily beside her, tracking every heartbeat.
At the Fairchild Mansion - Grand Hall
Old Madame's face was flushed with fury as she struck her cane violently against the marble floor. The loud crack echoed through the hall.
"Who dares to fire a gun without permission and that, at such close range, causing this accident? Who was so bold?" she thundered.
The butler immediately stepped forward, his head bowed deeply in fear.
"Old Madame, please, quell your anger," he pleaded. "It was the mistake of a mindless servant. He… he claimed he only wanted to chase away a flock of crows. The shot was fired into the air. It wasn't intentional."
Old Madame's glare could've frozen a flame. She spat the words out.
"Not intentional?" She laughed bitterly. "Can you imagine the consequences if it were my grandson who had fallen off that horse instead? Even if I sent you all to hell, it would not be enough to atone for such recklessness!"
The male worker, already pale and shaking, dropped to his knees, clasping his hands together.
"Please, Old Madame, forgive me! I didn't know the young master or anyone was nearby. I...I swear I didn't mean any harm. Please… mercy!"
But Old Madame curled her lip in disgust and pointed her cane at him.
"Remove this fool from my sight. He is never to set foot on this estate again. And if I ever hear his name near this house, I'll have his tongue ripped out."
Guards seized the man and dragged him away, his cries echoing faintly down the corridor.
Later That Evening – At the Hospital
Leo strode in, his tailored suit sharp, his tone casual but alert.
"I heard what happened to your little beauty. How's she doing?" he asked, arms crossed.
Harry didn't lift his eyes from Ana, still asleep in her hospital bed.
"She's stable. They're discharging her tomorrow."
Leo glanced at her and then at Harry.
"You heading back to the mansion?"
"Yeah," Harry said, his voice cold. "To get to the bottom of this."
Fairchild Mansion - Main House
Old Madame sat upright on her favorite velvet throne-like chair. Kimberly perched beside her, eyes swollen from crying. Sasha sat opposite them, head bowed, but her clenched fists trembled in her lap.
As Harry entered, all heads turned.
"How is she?" Old Madame asked, voice softer now.
"She's out of danger. Minor injuries only. She'll be fine."
Everyone exhaled, relieved except Sasha. Her nails dug into her palms so hard she nearly bled.
How is she still alive? she thought bitterly. Why won't that slut just die?
"Where's the person responsible for this?" Harry's voice cut through the room like ice.
Lady Mina spoke calmly.
"Well, the servant's been fired. That lowly wretch's carelessness caused this mess."
Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously but said nothing.
In his study, he summoned one of his trusted guards.
"I want every detail about that worker. Who he talks to, where he lives, every deposit in his account. I want the full report on my desk by tomorrow."
The guard saluted.
"Understood, sir."
When they were alone, Leo leaned against the desk.
"You really think it wasn't an accident?"
Harry scoffed.
"Accident? He didn't fire sooner or later but he fired exactly when Ana was on the horse. That's too convenient to be chance."
"Told you to keep a closer watch on her," Leo muttered. "Enemies are already testing the waters."
Harry's eyes hardened.
"It won't happen again."
The Next Morning - Harry's Study
The guard returned with a folder. Harry flipped through it, frowning. Everything seemed clean. Too clean.
"He's an ordinary worker. No debt. No criminal record. Nothing suspicious," Harry muttered.
"Sir," the guard added hesitantly, "there's one thing. A large sum of money was transferred to his account the morning of the incident. Then another sum after he was fired. And he tried to flee the city last night. We intercepted him."
Harry's expression turned lethal.
"Where is he now?"
"Being held in the east wing basement."
Harry stood up.
"Good. Let's go have a word with him."