The room spun as Rachel’s words hit me. I looked down at Ethan, sleeping peacefully in his crib, unaware of the storm outside. “I can’t leave him,” I said, my voice shaky. “Harrison needs to know the truth.”
Rachel nodded, her expression sad. “I know. But not yet. We need a plan. If Mr. Blackwood finds out you know, he’ll do anything to silence you. We can’t risk it.”
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. Rachel was right; we had to be careful. “Okay,” I whispered. But I wasn’t going to run this time. I would stand by Harrison’s side, and together, we’d face whatever came. Rachel gave me a knowing look.
Just as I turned to leave the nursery, I heard it-a gunshot. The sound echoed through the halls, freezing me in place. I clutched Ethan, cradling him close, and bolted from the room, heart pounding.
In the sitting room, I saw a horrifying sight-Harrison and two maids lay on the floor, blood pooling around them. The killer was gone. Rachel rushed in and took Ethan from my arms. Kneeling by Harrison, I could feel Rachel trembling as she held me. “Harrison,” I sobbed, my voice breaking with fear.
He was still breathing, though faintly. There was hope. I whispered, “Hold on,” as I pressed down on his wound. Rachel and I exchanged a terrified, determined look. We had to get him out. Rachel took Ethan, her gaze steady. “I’ll take him to the safe room. You stay with Harrison.”
With Rachel’s plan in motion, I focused on Harrison. I felt his shallow breaths as I lifted him, my muscles straining. I whispered, “Don’t speak. Just hold on.”
Minutes later, Rachel reappeared. “I left Ethan in the car,” she said, frantic but focused. Together, we carried Harrison outside, where Rachel sped off, her gaze flicking back to Ethan in the rearview mirror. The air inside the car was thick with fear as she drove through the winding driveway, racing against time.
As we sped through the night, Rachel’s knuckles turned white on the wheel. I sat beside Harrison, pressing down on his wound, his weak breath against my cheek. “You’ll be okay,” I whispered, hoping it was true.
“Emma, we can’t go to a public hospital,” Rachel said, urgency lacing her voice. “Mr. Blackwood has connections everywhere. He’ll find us.”
I felt panic, but Rachel’s calm steadied me. “Where can we go?” I asked, my eyes on Harrison’s pale face.
“A private clinic,” she replied, focused. “Outside the city. They’ll help us.”
The car raced into the darkness, city lights fading away. Only the hum of the engine and Harrison’s occasional groans broke the silence. Rachel drove like a seasoned getaway driver, steering through winding streets and dodging cars.
We finally arrived at the clinic-a small, secluded building hidden in the countryside. Rachel stopped the car, and we rushed inside, carrying Harrison. The stale antiseptic smell filled my nose. Rachel banged on the back room door, and a weary doctor appeared, his eyes widening at our sight. She quickly explained our situation, and he nodded, leading us into an exam room. He worked quickly, assessing Harrison’s wound. Rachel held my arm, keeping me steady as I watched blood seep through the makeshift bandage.
The doctor’s voice was calm but tense. “We need to operate,” he said, looking at us. Rachel nodded firmly. “Do whatever it takes. Just save him.”
I filled out the forms with shaky hands, mind racing with everything that had happened. Rachel had returned to the car for Ethan, and a pang of guilt hit me for not insisting on going with her. The mansion was no longer a safe haven; it felt like a trap, walls closing in around us.
As the doctor prepped Harrison for surgery, Rachel and I watched in silence, our hearts pounding. They wheeled him away, leaving us alone in the cold waiting area, fear heavy between us.
“What if he doesn’t make it?” I whispered, barely audible. Rachel squeezed my hand, her eyes misty but fierce.
“He has to,” she said, her voice determined. “He just has to.”
The minutes crawled by, each second stretching into an eternity. Rachel and I sat in silence, eyes fixed on the clock. Tension grew with every tick, our fears unspoken.
Finally, the doctor appeared, exhaustion etched on his face. Rachel and I jumped up, our gazes searching his face. He took a deep breath. “He’s stable,” he said. “We controlled the bleeding, but he’s still in critical condition.”
Relief washed over me, my legs giving out. Rachel steadied me, her eyes on the doctor. “What now?” she asked, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.
“He’ll stay under observation tonight,” he replied, glancing toward the closed doors. “But you need to stay cautious.” Without another word, he walked away, leaving us with unanswered questions. Rachel helped me to a chair, her grip firm as we waited.