The Next Morning — City Hospital
Outside the towering glass facade of the city's most prestigious hospital, reporters swarmed like bees. Microphones were shoved forward, questions were shouted, and camera flashes sparked as the Fairchild family arrived.
Harry walked in front, dressed immaculately in a steel-grey suit, his tie clipped perfectly in place. Not a strand of his dark hair was out of place. He looked as though he'd stepped out of a magazine shoot if not for the cold, emotionless expression carved into his face like stone. He exuded an aura of silent power, the kind that made the crowd part without a word.
Old Madame followed closely, her presence regal and composed. Her diamond earrings shimmered under the morning sun, her silk dress flowing like royalty. Her poise was intimidating, her silence louder than any statement.
Reporters surged forward, but the bodyguards quickly restrained them. No one dared press too hard. Everyone knew offending the Zelkowicz family meant career suicide… or worse.
Inside the VIP Ward
A soft beep echoed in the quiet ward, where Soraya lay propped up with pillows, her head bandaged lightly. She looked displeased, boredom and irritation dancing in her eyes as she watched the display unfolding near her bed.
A young man stood at her side, tall and well-dressed, his hair gelled and his suit perfectly tailored.
"When I heard what had happened, my heart nearly stopped," he said solemnly, looking down at her. "I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I'd lost someone as incredible as you, Soraya."
Mrs. Palanca, standing beside him in a burgundy designer dress, beamed. "Oh, Mr. Osman, my daughter is truly lucky to have someone who loves her so deeply. You've no idea how glad I am."
"Please," Ivan said with a suave smile. "No need for formalities. Soon, I'll be your son-in-law. Just call me Ivan."
Mrs. Palanca's face lit up with greedy satisfaction. Her smile grew wider. This was it. The deal that would save her husband's crumbling business was almost sealed. Thank heavens for her daughter's pretty face.
"Good. Good. Good," she chirped.
Soraya rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. She was barely holding back the urge to gag. "Mouse? Trap? What a perfect little performance," she muttered under her breath.
Her mind flashed back to the crash. The fear. The sound of gunfire. She'd asked her parents what had happened to the others but they'd dismissed her questions, saying only that she and Sasha had been rescued and the driver hadn't survived. But what about Ana? They acted like she hadn't even been there. The Fairchild family was clearly covering it all up.
A knock on the door snapped everyone's attention toward the entrance.
Harry walked in, every movement calm, commanding. Soraya's eyes lit up the moment she saw him.
"Harry, you're back?! That's really good," she exclaimed with a wide smile.
Ivan's jaw tightened as Harry approached. Before Harry could take another step, Ivan blocked his way.
"Move," Harry said coolly.
Ivan met his gaze defiantly, but there was something in Harry's deadpan stare that made even the most arrogant man step aside. Slowly, Ivan moved out of the way.
Harry walked over and Soraya instantly grabbed his hand.
"I'm so glad to see you again," she cried. "I thought I was going to die. It was so scary… like something out of an action movie."
Harry pulled out his monogrammed handkerchief and handed it to her.
"You look ugly when you cry," he said flatly.
Soraya pouted, giving him a playful glare. "You're heartless. How can you say that to a beauty like me?"
She wiped her face and blew into the handkerchief deliberately, just to get back at him.
Ivan's fists clenched at his sides as he watched. Soraya had barely glanced his way, but here she was, acting like a lovesick girl with Harry. He felt a rush of jealousy and resentment boil within him.
Mrs. Palanca stood silently, clearly conflicted. Once, she'd hoped Soraya would marry Harry. That dream had slipped through her fingers. But now, watching them… she wondered if the door to the Zelkowicz empire wasn't fully closed yet.
"Can you excuse us for a moment?" Harry said. "I want to speak with Soraya privately."
Mrs. Palanca nodded. "Don't misbehave," she warned Soraya before leaving.
Ivan hesitated but eventually followed her, shooting Soraya a sour look. She waved at him mockingly. "Bye, son-in-law," she said sweetly.
Now alone with Soraya, Harry's demeanor shifted. He sat beside her, his gaze sharp.
"Tell me everything," he said. "What happened?"
Soraya looked at him seriously, then nodded.
"I don't know how it all started… We were on the road. Sasha and I were arguing when the driver swerved. Suddenly, a black SUV blocked our path. Men with guns… they came out of nowhere. They didn't say anything, just started firing."
Harry's jaw clenched.
"The driver tried to speed off, but he was shot. We lost control and crashed. I hit my head and passed out. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. They told me the driver died… but nothing about Reina."
Harry's voice lowered dangerously. "And Sasha?"
Soraya paused. "She was unconscious when they brought us in. But Harry… something's not right."
"What do you mean?"
Soraya leaned in slightly. "I don't have evidence," she finished, eyes locked on his, "but I can bet my life Sasha had something to do with it. That woman is crazy."
Harry was silent for a long moment, his mind spinning. "That day," he asked finally, "who else knew you were leaving for the hospital?"
"No one. It was a spontaneous decision just Ana, Sasha, and me."
A long silence fell.
Soraya's tone softened as she added, "By the way… What happened to Ana? I hope she and the baby are both fine. Where is she?"
"Gone," Harry replied through clenched teeth, his voice so tight with emotion it was nearly a growl.
"Gone?" Soraya's brows furrowed. "Gone where? What do you mean by gone?"
"She was abducted at the scene," Harry said, barely containing his fury. "There's been no word since."
"What?" Soraya gasped, her face drained of all color. "Harry, you have to find her. She's pregnant with your child! She's in a delicate state… If anything happens to her..."
"I know." His voice was hoarse now, barely masking the storm brewing inside.
"You should rest now," he added, stepping back. "I have to go."
With that, Harry turned and walked out of the hospital room. The moment he stepped into the hallway, he slammed his fist into the concrete wall with such force the impact echoed. The skin on his knuckles split open, but he didn't flinch.
His eyes, dark as obsidian, gleamed with hatred. "Sasha Famazani," he spat, her name laced with venom. Every bone in his body ached with loathing for her.