"Mr. Alexander!" Davis called at the loudest volume of his voice, but if Alexander heard him, it was a lie.In the bathtub, water mixed with soap and antiseptic, and there lay Alexander, lifeless like a broken statue, robbed of all vitality and expression.Davis, confused about what to do at this moment, took three backward steps like a startled deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. The private security guards who rushed closely behind him faced the sight of the dead Alexander lying motionless in the bathtub.First, they carried him out of the bathtub and laid his drenched self on the ground. Then they examined him from head to toe and discovered that Alexander had caused his own death by slitting his wrist in the bathtub, leaving the whole floor and the whole bathtub bloody.The look on the private guards' faces was an expression of their inner question about what could have happened for their master to finally decide to take his own life.At this moment, it was evident t
Convincing Sophia to unplug her headphones and finally follow Davis away from the beach house was as difficult as prying open a seashell sealed shut by the relentless grip of the ocean.However, mentioning that her grandparents had been hospitalized and that they needed her presence to feel better immediately shifted her thoughts like a sudden gust of wind swirling through a calm summer day, stirring up a whirlwind of questions and concern. and compelled her to follow Davis.Upon arriving at the hospital, Davis approached the receptionist's desk and said, "Hi, I'm Davis, and this is Sophia Rosewood. Her grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Rosewood, were admitted here earlier today. Could we see them?""No, you can't. They are both in separate surgical rooms at the moment. You can wait for them in the waiting area. There is already an Isabella Rosewood there," the receptionist replied, her voice dripping with a mix of authority and empathy, like a symphony conductor directing the emotions of th
Suddenly, as the security guard whisked Sophia away, Isabella's eyes darted to the television in the waiting room like a startled cat. Her attention was instantly captured, and her gaze fixed on the screen with a mix of surprise and trepidation, as if a hidden truth about her was about to be reported. Since the time she walked into the waiting room, the television was there, but she didn't pay much mind to it because whatever was shown on it was not a thing of concern compared to the tragic present.But as she caught a glimpse of what appeared to be her own face on the screen, her focus snapped to it with a jolt of shock.Urgently, she tapped Davis, diverting his attention from the image of Isabella's face he had been transfixed on on his phone to look at the television screen. In unison, they rose from their seats and slowly approached the television, their footsteps heavy with anticipation."Where is the remote?" Isabella demanded, her voice laced with frustration. However, no one r
"Good evening, Miss. We are here to see the patients brought here earlier, the Alexander Rosewoods?" Mr. Smith spoke to the two receptionists at the hospital desk, his voice as smooth as velvet.The receptionists, recognizing Ethan and Mr. Smith, couldn't help but show their affectionate side, like avid fans fawning over their favorite celebrities, their eyes shining like stars in the night sky.When patients or their family members walked through the hospital doors, the receptionists always maintained a calm and empathetic tone. Their voices were like gentle waves, soothing troubled souls. However, with Ethan Mark and Mr. Smith, a transformation took place. It was as if a dormant fire suddenly ignited, casting a warm and welcoming glow upon them, like a bonfire on a chilly evening."They are in the postoperative room, sir. But my heart is in dire need of surgery because every beat reminds me of you. Would you do me the honor of going out with me?" one of the receptionists said, her w
As Mr. Smith opened the door to the postoperative room, he perceived an atmosphere of calm and meticulous care. The room was colored white, invoking a sense of purity and sterility. Soft, diffused lighting bathed the space, providing a soothing ambiance that promoted rest and recovery. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the gentle hum of medical equipment, which subtly indicated the presence of advanced technology. Monitors displayed vital signs, their rhythmic beeps serving as a reassuring melody, monitoring the patients' progress. Intricate lines of IV drips traversed overhead, resembling delicate vines, delivering essential fluids and medications to aid in the healing process. But there was more to the scene. Two sick beds occupied the room, placed side by side, with Mr. Alexander in one and Victoria in the other. Both of them lay with closed eyes, their stillness contrasting with the beeping monitors that assured their vitality. To Mr. Smith's surprise, the room was devoid of
And at that moment, with an order flowing from Isabella's mouth like the waters of the Red Sea, the security guard swiftly disengaged the pistol's safety and slowly positioned his finger on the trigger."Any last words, Guard?" He voiced it, his tone filled with mockery and satisfaction for a job well done, like a guard who would get a raise after this.As this transpired, Mr. Smith's acute senses were heightened. Being a trained professional, his skills were what led Augustus Markwood to employ him in the first place. Without even looking at a gun, he could discern its model from the sound of its clicks alone. This heightened perception had always been a part of him, since his military days.Amidst it all, Mr. Smith chuckled, even with the pistol still pressed against his head, and remarked, "For a personal guard, you should wield a semi-automatic pistol, something like an M1911, not this single shot sounding like a feeble pop gun." Mr. Smith retorted with a hint of disdain, his voic
After about a minute of pleading, Isabella and Mr. Smith locked eyes, and he finally opened his mouth to speak."It was never my master's intention to be hostile towards you or your parents. He is waiting for you in the waiting room," Mr. Smith stated, his voice calm and composed. He proceeded to disassemble the pistol into pieces and walked over to the security guard, who still lay on the floor.As he approached, Mr. Smith knelt down, releasing a deep breath and taking a second look at the weakened security guard.The guard's face exhibited clear signs of his feebleness; his expression was cautious, anticipating any potential threat from Mr. Smith, as if seeking to protect himself in the most weary way possible.Chuckling at the guard's wary demeanor, Mr. Smith placed each disassembled piece of the pistol into the guard's suit pocket. He then patted him on the shoulder, akin to a captain assuring one of his soldiers of a successful mission, and spoke to him. "You are not worthy to be
At the moment Ethan left the hospital, Isabella's eyes were filled with desperation, reflecting her sense of urgency. However, she knew it wasn't the appropriate time to spring into action and fulfill Ethan's wishes. Instead, she needed to return to the postoperative room and check on her parents once again.Upon entering the postoperative room, Isabella found Victorial already awake, but the same couldn't be said for Alexander. Despite her mother's wakefulness, Victorial's eyes still radiated weariness, indicating her exhaustion and unwillingness to engage in conversation. Isabella empathized with her mother, knowing the immense challenges she had endured. She sat down on her mother's bed, gently placing her palm over Victorial's, seeking comfort in their connection.The room remained enveloped in silence, except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitor tracking Alexander's heart rate. Just then, the doctor entered the room, locking eyes with Victorial, who was fully awake, and glanci