Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Sir,” he says, voice gruff, stepping closer. “I got her out. Amelia—she was in the water, barely breathing. I don’t understand what’s happening, but as soon as ... the Madam left, I fished her out, did CPR. She’s alive, but just. I don’t know why Madam would do that, so I didn’t call 911. I called my brother, and he rushed here immediately and took her to the hospital. St. Mary’s Hospital. They’ve been gone for about twenty minutes now. I had to keep it quiet, I’m sorry. I didn’t want Madam to know what I had done."
My knees nearly buckle with the relief that slams into me like a truck. “She’s… alive?” I choke out, voice cracking, my hands fisting, nails biting my palms.
Tom nods, his eyes steady but grim. “Yes, sir, but she didn’t look good. She was babbling a bit. Someone hit her on the side of the head. You go to her as soon as you can.”
"Of course, yes of course. Thank you.”
I pull out the key to my office and hand it over to him.
“Jason is in my office. Get him out of there and take him home with you. Don’t let Sara know. Try your best to make as little noise as possible. Can you do that?’
“I will, sir,” he replies. “I will do that.”
“Alright. Thank you. You’re a good man, Tom,” I say, and give him the most desperate hug I have ever given anyone in my life.
Afterwards, I don’t waste a single moment. I run, my boots slipping on the wet grass, back to the house. I grab my keys from the foyer, the marble cold under my sodden feet, and sprint to the SUV. The engine roars, the tires screeching as I peel out of the house. A few minutes later, the city is a blur of neon and headlights. My mind is raging like a demon.
Sara did this.
Sara tried to kill Amelia.
None of this feels real. It feels like I’m trapped in a nightmare, and with each second that passes, I keep willing myself to wake up. I can’t stop thinking about Sara, her audacity, her madness. I am in shock that she is even capable of such a thing. How spectacularly I misjudged her. I curse and swear as I weave through traffic. My horns are blaring, and I’m sure I’ve been caught by at least a dozen speed cameras, yet every passing second feels like an eternity.
I try to calm myself, but it’s next to impossible.
Eventually St. Mary’s looms, its white walls stark under floodlights. I swing into a parking spot in a dash, slam the door, and run inside. The ER’s chaos hits me instantly—beeping monitors, nurses darting, a gurney rattling past. I grab a nurse wearing scrubs. Her face is tired, and she turns to me without a smile.
“Amelia Fitzwilliam,” I say, my voice rough and desperate. “Where is she?”
"Reception. Ask at Reception," she says, her eyes running down my wet clothes and hurries away.
I calm down enough to rush to Reception. Another bored-looking woman asks me for the information she needs so that she can help me. Eventually, things are cleared up, and I watch as she checks a tablet, her fingers quick.
"She was just admitted. Are you a family member? She’s in the HCU, third floor. She’s stable, but—”
I’m gone before she finishes, taking the stairs two at a time, my wet clothes dripping, leaving a trail. The HCU ward is quieter. The air is raught with life support machines humming, dimmed lights. A nurse, gray hair, clipboard in hand, spots me. “Can I help you, sir? You can’t be wandering around here. It’s not visiting hours."
I pause long enough to explain to her and ask if she is able to help me.
"Are you Ms. Fitzwilliam's husband?
“No.”
“Brother?” she asks suspiciously.
“Yeah,” I pant, chest heaving. For once in my life, I am relieved to be able to say that I am her blood relative. “Is she okay? Can I see her? Please.”
“She’s stable,” she says, flipping a page. “She’s suffered a concussion- a pretty bad one I must add. It seems she was hit with a blunt object. There was a little bit of bleeding. Then there’s the hypothermia from the water. We’ve treated her, and now we’re monitoring her vitals. She’s very lucky. Do you know if she fell into the water? She was too close to drowning. She’s so lucky someone got her out just in time. She’s sedated right now, but you can sit with her.”
Relief floods me, shaky, overwhelming, but I’m already moving, following her towards a curtained enclosure. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, I’m feeling all the fear, the shock, the cold in my bones, and it is enough to cripple me.
I take a deep breath as she pulls the curtains apart.