Chapter 21
The hum of machines broke through the fog in Emma’s mind, their rhythmic pulses a tether pulling her back to consciousness. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled her nostrils, sharp and unfamiliar, mingling with the faint coolness of crisp linen against her skin. Her eyelids felt heavy as she struggled to open them, her breath shallow and uneven.
Then it hit her.
The screeching brakes, the violent jolt, the sickening crunch of metal on metal—it all came rushing back like a tidal wave, flooding her senses and tightening her chest.
Emma’s eyes flew open, wide and panicked. Her hands moved instinctively, flying to her abdomen as if to shield the life growing within her.
“The babies,” she rasped, her voice barely audible and cracked with desperation. “The twins. Are they—”
Her throat closed up, refusing to complete the thought, as if voicing her worst fear would make it real.
“They’re stable for now, Mrs. Barrett.” A calm yet steady voice cut through her panic. “But we’re monitoring them closely.”
Emma turned her head sharply, the sudden movement making her dizzy. Standing by her bed was a middle-aged doctor with kind eyes that belied the gravity in his tone. His white coat bore faint creases, as though he had been wearing it for hours without rest. Beside him stood a nurse, her hands methodically adjusting the IV line connected to Emma’s arm.
“For now?” Emma repeated, her voice trembling with the effort to speak.
The doctor stepped closer, his expression serious but controlled.
“The trauma from the accident placed significant stress on your body, which has naturally affected the twins. We’ve stabilized their heartbeats, but we’re watching for any signs of complications. You’ll need to remain under close observation.”
The words struck her like a physical blow, each one laced with both relief and terror.
Her hands stayed protectively over her belly, and she exhaled shakily, trying to ground herself.
“Thank you,” she murmured, though the gratitude felt hollow against the enormity of her fears.
The doctor nodded, offering a small but fleeting reassurance.
“You’re in good hands, Mrs. Barrett. Try to rest.”
But rest was impossible.
The hours crawled by in agonizing increments, marked only by the soft beeping of machines and the distant murmur of hospital staff moving about. Nurses filtered in and out, their efficient movements and reassuring smiles doing little to quell the storm inside her. Every beep, every adjustment of her monitors, sent her pulse racing, her mind spiraling into dark possibilities she couldn’t escape.
She tried to focus on the feel of her hands resting over her belly, on the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing, but the weight of uncertainty was suffocating.
Then, through the muffled haze of her panic, hushed voices drifted in from outside her door. Emma turned her head slightly, her ears straining to catch the words.
“Dr. Patel,” a familiar voice said, low but commanding. “Are we certain there’s no internal bleeding? Any signs of complications that might have gone undetected?”
Emma’s breath hitched. Thomas Hamilton.
Through the small crack in the door, she caught a glimpse of his tall frame, his usually impeccable suit wrinkled as though he had slept in it—or not at all. His hand raked through his dark hair, leaving it disheveled in a way that was startlingly unlike him.
“We’ve conducted all necessary tests, Mr. Hamilton,” came the doctor’s measured response. “Our primary concern is ensuring stability for both Mrs. Barrett and the twins. Right now, she needs rest and monitoring.”
Thomas nodded, though the tightness in his jaw suggested he was far from satisfied. “And the specialists? They’re ready to intervene if necessary?”
“Of course,” Dr. Patel assured him.
Emma’s throat tightened, her chest heaving as she tried to process the exchange. Thomas’s voice carried a firmness that cut through her haze of fear. His concern, so evident even through the closed door, was steady and unrelenting.
And yet, the person she truly wanted to see—the person whose absence felt like a gaping void—was nowhere to be found.
The door creaked open slowly, and Thomas stepped inside. His sharp features softened the moment he saw her awake, though the worry etched into his face didn’t fade.
“Emma,” he said quietly, closing the door behind him as he approached her bedside. “You gave us quite a scare.”
Her lips twitched into a weak smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I seem to have a knack for that lately,” she murmured.
Thomas pulled a chair closer, his movements deliberate, his presence a calming anchor in the chaos of the sterile hospital room. “How are you feeling?”
“What do you think?” she replied, her voice trembling with exhaustion. “I almost lost them, Thomas. I can’t stop thinking—what if…”
Her voice broke, and tears spilled over despite her efforts to hold them back. Thomas leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze steady.
“You didn’t lose them, Emma. They’re stable, and the doctors are doing everything they can. You’re stronger than this fear—stronger than what happened.”
Emma’s hands gripped the blanket covering her, her knuckles white. “I don’t feel strong. I feel helpless. And I can’t—” Her voice cracked again, a sob escaping her lips.
Thomas reached out, his hand covering hers in a gesture that felt steady and unshakable. “You’re not helpless, Emma. You’ve been fighting for them since the moment you knew they existed. And you’re not alone in this.”
“The doctor said they’re stable,” Emma replied, her hand drifting protectively to her stomach. “But it’s… it’s terrifying. I don’t think I’ve been this scared in my life.”
Thomas hesitated for a moment before pulling a chair to her bedside. His presence was steadying, like an anchor in a storm.
“You’re in the best possible care,” he assured her. “And I’ll make sure it stays that way.”
Emma looked at him, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “Thank you, Thomas. For everything. I don’t even know how to begin repaying you.”
“You don’t have to,” he said firmly. “Your safety and the twins’ safety—that’s all that matters right now.”
Despite Thomas’s reassuring words, Emma couldn’t shake the gnawing ache where Alex’s presence should have been. The whispers from hospital staff had reached her even through the fog of her pain, each one a tiny dagger piercing her composure.
“Barrett’s not here? Unbelievable.”
“Didn’t even show up after his wife was nearly killed.”
“Figures. Typical billionaire—always business, no heart.”
The words replayed in her mind, sharp and relentless. Emma hated how much they stung because they echoed the truth she couldn’t ignore. Alex wasn’t there. Whatever his reasons, whatever justification he might offer, the fact remained—he hadn’t come when she needed him most.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket, her chest heavy with disappointment.
Thomas’s calm, steady voice pierced the fog of Emma’s racing thoughts. “Emma,” he said softly, his brow creased with hesitation. “There’s something else you need to know.”
She looked up, her chest tightening at the seriousness in his tone. Her exhaustion and fear amplified the dread pooling in her stomach. “What is it?”
Thomas hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with his phone. “I wasn’t going to show you this yet, but it’s all over the news. You deserve to know what you’re up against.”
He swiped across his screen, the glow of it lighting his grim expression, and handed her the phone. Emma took it with trembling hands, the ache in her chest deepening with each second of his silence.
The video began to play. The grainy footage showed her car speeding along the highway. At first, it seemed normal—just another vehicle on a busy road. Then, the brake lights flickered erratically, unnatural and stuttering. The car swerved sharply, fishtailing before careening into the guardrail in a blur of mangled metal and shattered glass.
Emma’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the phone as the video looped back, replaying the horrifying sequence again and again.
Her voice was barely a whisper. “What… what is this?”
“Evidence,” Thomas said quietly, his tone heavy. “Your brake lines were tampered with, Emma. This wasn’t an accident.”
The words landed like a blow, the world tilting as her mind struggled to process the gravity of what he was saying. Her lips parted, but no sound came.
Thomas leaned closer, his expression dark. “The car’s been impounded, and the initial reports confirm it. Someone wanted this to happen.”
“Who?” Emma’s voice cracked, a mixture of fear and disbelief. “Who would do something like this?”
Thomas’s jaw clenched, the calm veneer he’d maintained beginning to crack. “We don’t have confirmation yet. Marcus is digging into it, but there’s a pattern here—a trail of similar ‘accidents’ linked to Luka Diaz’s associates. This isn’t a coincidence, Emma.”
The name sent a chill through her. Luka. The man who had already wreaked havoc on her life and Alex’s, using manipulation and blackmail to tear them apart. Now it seemed he was willing to go even further.
Emma sank back against the pillows, her breath shallow as the weight of Thomas’s words bore down on her. “The twins…” she whispered, her hand instinctively moving to her abdomen. “This could’ve—”
Thomas reached for her hand, his touch firm but reassuring. “It didn’t, Emma. You’re here. They’re here. But we need to stay ahead of this. Whoever did this isn’t finished.”
* * *
As the hospital shifted into the quiet hum of night, Emma lay awake, staring at the pale ceiling tiles. She clutched the blanket over her chest, the rhythmic beeping of machines her only anchor to the present. Sleep refused to come.
Every creak of the building, every faint murmur in the hallway outside, set her nerves on edge. Shadows danced on the walls, twisting into imagined threats. She couldn’t close her eyes without hearing the screech of brakes, the helpless skid of her car, and the crushing impact that had brought her here.
Her fingers drifted to her belly, resting lightly as if to reassure herself that the twins were still there, still fighting. But the storm raging in her mind offered no peace.
Hours passed in agonizing silence until, finally, her body betrayed her, pulling her into a restless sleep. Her dreams were fractured and chaotic—a swirl of spinning tires, shattered glass, and faceless whispers mocking her helplessness.
When she jolted awake, the first rays of dawn spilled through the blinds, painting soft lines across the sterile room. Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, her heart racing from the lingering echoes of her nightmare.
She turned her head and saw Thomas. He was still there, seated in the corner, his jacket draped over the back of a chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up. He looked impossibly calm, though his eyes betrayed the exhaustion he wouldn’t admit to.
But Alex wasn’t there.
The realization struck her like a blow, hollow and heavy. She had told herself not to expect him, but the ache in her chest refused to listen. He should be here. Why isn’t he here?
Her throat tightened, and before she could stop herself, tears began to fall. Quiet, hot streams that she didn’t bother wiping away. For the first time since the accident, she let herself break—not just for her children fighting for their lives, but for the pieces of her own life that lay shattered around her.
The sound of the door opening pulled her from the spiral. Thomas stepped back into the room, his shoulders tense, a folder in his hand.
“Emma,” he said, his tone grave. His expression—normally a source of calm—was now deeply serious.
She sat up slowly, her pulse quickening. “What is it?”
He moved to the bedside table and placed the folder down with deliberate care. “Marcus found something else.”
Emma’s hands trembled as she reached for the folder. “Something else?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
Thomas nodded, his jaw tight. “It’s not just your accident. The tampered brake lines match three others.”
Her eyes widened, her stomach twisting with dread. “Three others?”
“All tied to Luka Diaz,” Thomas said grimly.
Emma’s breath caught as her grip on the folder tightened. The realization hit her like a thunderclap. Luka wasn’t just trying to control them. He was willing to kill to get what he wanted.
And she was next.
