ELLIOTT'S POV(PRESENTLY):
The automatic hospital doors slid open, revealing the sterile, bustling hallway. Nurses and doctors moved with practiced efficiency. I approached the front desk, placing my black bank card before the flustered nurse.
"Good morning. I'm Elliot Lancaster. Phineas Lancaster was admitted here, correct?" I asked, my gaze briefly flicking to the anatomical chart on the wall.
She typed on the computer. "Yes, he underwent major reconstructive hand surgery," she confirmed. "That will be two hundred thousand dollars."
"Charge it to this card," I said, sliding it across the desk.
She processed the payment. "Thank you. He's in room 39, the VIP ward."
I walked quickly down the hall, stopping abruptly at room 39. Inside, nurses attended to Phineas, who seemed to be charming them effortlessly.
I kicked the door open, drawing everyone's attention. "Everyone, out," I commanded, my voice low and firm. The nurses scattered.
Phineas smiled, resting his head on the pillow. "That's not a very brotherly greeting." He shifted, his hand disappearing under the sheets. "You scared off my entertainment."
I frowned, stepping closer and punching him in the face. "You're not sick. For someone who just had surgery, you look remarkably healthy," I said, grabbing his hospital gown. "If you're so desperate, go to a club, not a hospital."
Phineas coughed, a fleck of blood staining his lips, yet his infuriating smile remained. His blue eyes locked with mine, a fleeting mix of surprise and anger before he masked it. "Quite the show of concern, Ellie. You've certainly found your backbone," he remarked, wiping the blood with the back of his hand. "So, what brings the storm cloud? You seem rather agitated."
I retreated to the plush couch by the window, sinking into its deceptive comfort. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm here because you plastered my number all over the emergency room paperwork," I retorted, turning to the window, the cityscape a stark contrast to my inner turmoil. "Who did this to you?"
Phineas lowered his head, burying it briefly between his knees before looking up. "Drake. Who else would have the pleasure?" he asked with a sarcastic roll of his eyes.
The revelation hit me like a physical blow. Drake was brutal, but this level of violence suggested Phineas had crossed a serious line. "Drake? That's insane. He'd have no reason to go this far, even if he dislikes you," I said, my focus sharpening on his face. "Phineas, I told you to be cautious, not to provoke him."
Phineas bit his lip, his gaze fixed on his bandaged hand. "I didn't provoke him, you drama queen. There was this new girl, Heather Morgan. Cute thing. I offered to take her out, she refused, and Drake decided to play white knight," he mumbled, wrinkling his nose.
A harsh laugh escaped me, echoing in the sterile room. "I've never heard you sound more pathetic," I mocked, my knuckles whitening as I clenched my fists. "Heather Morgan, you say?"
"Yeah, and the name rings a bell… Jake's crush was also a Heather Morgan," Phineas agreed, nodding vigorously. "Heather Morgan Claus, the Morgan family's daughter. But she died, fell from a building, and her family perished in the fire."
I kicked the nearby vase, sending it crashing and scattering shards across the floor. "That's… surreal. They can't be the same person, Phineas. It's a common name," I said, trying to maintain a semblance of control. "For now, keep a low profile and watch Drake. Leave the rest to me."
Phineas looked genuinely surprised, his hand trembling slightly. "Elliot, are you out of your mind?! Drake did this to me! What part of that don't you understand?" he exclaimed, throwing a pillow which I easily dodged. "Just drop it, Ellie. Jake's gone."
My gaze narrowed, each look sharper than the last. "Sounds like someone's eager for a change of scenery… perhaps somewhere with bars on the windows?" I reminded him, pulling out my iPad and displaying the incriminating evidence of his past dealings. "You will shut up and hire someone to watch Drake, or you will find yourself explaining this to the authorities. He's got a secret I'll enjoy unraveling."
I turned towards the door. "I'll be back for a proper explanation later. Just do as I say, and maybe, just maybe, things won't get any messier." I opened the door and stepped out, leaving him in the tense silence.
HEATHER'S POV
The drive home was a draining mix of exhaustion and restless thoughts. Kyle and Jules had made half-hearted attempts at conversation, but my mind was stubbornly replaying the earlier encounter with Drake. He was a confusing storm in my chest – a flutter of excitement often followed by a dull ache. He could make me laugh one moment and seethe the next, but it was his possessiveness that truly set my teeth on edge.
As the car finally stopped, Marcus was already a looming figure outside my door, his brow furrowed with immediate concern as he swiftly opened it. He closed it with a quiet click, his gaze searching mine with unwavering intensity. "My lady, is everything alright? Did they trouble you?" he asked, his eyes scanning me from head to toe.
I shook my head slightly, avoiding his worried gaze. "I'm not feeling well, Marcus. Please tell everyone I'd rather not be disturbed. And let Jules and Kyle know I don't want any interruptions," I said, already turning and striding towards the sanctuary of the living room.
Once inside my bedroom, I pushed the door shut with a decisive thud and collapsed onto the bed. My eyelids felt heavy, and I was teetering on the edge of sleep when the shrill, insistent ring of my phone sliced through the quiet. An unknown number glowed on the screen. Irritated, I shoved the phone beneath my pillow, hoping to silence it, but the caller was relentless. With a frustrated sigh, I finally snatched it up.
I pressed the phone to my ear, my voice a low rumble of annoyance and lingering drowsiness. "Hello, this is Heather Morgan. Who is calling?" I demanded, my tone leaving no room for pleasantries. "Speak, or I'm hanging up this unwelcome call."
A low chuckle, laced with amusement, vibrated through the line, instantly igniting my irritation. "Sweetheart, I can't believe you've forgotten me already," the voice purred, a familiar undercurrent that made me frown in confusion. Who would call my landline with such familiarity?
I rolled onto my back, staring blankly at the ceiling. "Who are you? You have the wrong number!"
"It's Drake Xavier. Does that jog your memory?" he asked, a hint of a smile in his voice. "Let me guess, you're surprised, lovely."
My heart lurched into my throat. A wave of fluster and a prickle of unease washed over me. I tried to sit up, but my limbs felt clumsy, and I stumbled, landing unceremoniously on the plush rug. "What the—?!" I hissed, pushing myself up onto one knee. "Drake, how on earth did you get my number?" My voice was barely a whisper. "You scared the living daylights out of me!"
"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but there's very little I can't acquire, especially when I'm... invested in someone," he replied, a subtle click of his tongue sending a shiver of something akin to heat across my cheeks.
A small, involuntary smile touched my lips. I shrugged, rubbing my hands over my face as if to erase the blush. "I'm not entirely surprised, Drake, especially not after a certain someone decided to scale my window in the dead of night," I murmured, falling back onto the soft mattress.
"I have absolutely no regrets about that, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat if I had to. So, what are you up to?" he inquired, and despite myself, a warmer smile spread across my face.
I turned to face the ceiling, then shifted to stare at the wall, avoiding the imaginary gaze on the other end of the line. "I'm, uh... nothing much. I went to Wally's place today with my ridiculously annoying and overly protective cousins," I replied, idly examining the vibrant polish on my nails. "You do realize I shouldn't even be answering your call after what you did to MJ, right?"
He chuckled again, a low, possessive sound that sent a faint tremor through me. "I'm not stopping you, and frankly, I'd do it again without hesitation if he so much as glances at you like that again," he remarked, his voice suddenly edged with a cold, unmistakable steel.
My smile instantly faded. I was about to formulate a sharp retort when a soft, hesitant knock echoed from my door. "I'll talk to you later, Drake. I think someone's at the door," I said quickly, ending the call before getting up to see who it was.