Chapter Twelve
872 Words
The car roars to life. Dylan weaves through traffic, his jaw locked and eyes glued to the road.
They arrive at the hospital, and Dylan parks.
Seraphina rushes inside, meeting the familiar chaos of nurses hurriedly in motion, the sickening smell of antiseptic clinging to every corner and thick in the air. The bright lights and white walls usher her in, but she is already accustomed to all of this since it is her place of work.
Lately, the hospital hadn’t felt like her place of work, though.
She approaches the nurse’s desk.
“Doctor Seraphina,” the nurse calls out to her.
“My aunt,” she clasps the desk. “Laurel Sanchez. She was brought in earlier.”
“Yes, doctor. She is in the ER presently. The attending physician will speak with you shortly.”
“My sister brought her in. Is she in the waiting room?”
The nurse nods, and her shoes squeak as she walks toward the waiting room alongside Dylan.
She spots Ivy standing there with her arms clamped around herself, as though she were trying to hold her whole body together to avoid collapsing.
“Ivy,” Seraphina pulls her into a hug that feels painful rather than comforting, as she expected it to be.
“Will she be fine?” Ivy whispers, her voice still broken and nervous as her hands tremble against Seraphina’s back.
Not long after, the doctor appears.
“Doctor Seraphina,” he greets as he approaches.
“Yes? How is she?” Her voice trembles.
“She is stable now,” he reassures, blessing them with relief. “It was not complicated at all. It was stress-induced, but we will run more tests.”
“Thank you, doctor. Can we see her, though?” she asks.
“She is still unconscious, but you may,” he responds.
Ivy goes in while Seraphina turns to face Dylan, her eyes moving haphazardly to the open collar of his black silk shirt, the sleeve of his right arm rolled up to his elbow while the left is rolled once at the wrist, distress etched across his face.
“Thank you so much for your assistance, Dylan,” she says softly. “I really appreciate your kind gesture toward me,” her voice low and cracked like thin ice.
Dylan chuckles lightly. “I should go now, Seraphina. I will be back in about an hour.”
“You don’t have to come back. You should rest.”
“No, I will be back soon,” he says calmly, then leaves.
She watches him go until he disappears from sight.
Now, all that matters to Seraphina is seeing her aunt. She walks into the room, and just then, the door clicks shut behind her.
She sees her aunt lying unconscious on the bed, monitors beeping softly.
She moves closer and stands rooted at the foot of the bed while Ivy sits, leaning close as she murmurs to the unconscious woman.
Seraphina wraps her hands around her aunt’s.
****
Haynes is inside his study when Dylan comes in.
“Seraphina is doing well, and so is her aunt,” Dylan relays.
“Good. I trusted that you would take care of her,” Haynes responds, his face still locked on the paperwork he is busy with.
He shows no concern, as if he hadn’t just worried about her and carried her in his arms an hour ago.
They discuss business briefly—pending acquisitions, delayed shipments, and a questionable overseas account that needs cleaning.
“This Seraphina Anderson,” Dylan says. “I didn’t expect to meet her here.”
“She is my wife’s best friend,” Haynes replies.
“You knew this before?”
“That she was my fiancée’s best friend? Yes. But of course, she was not a target during the operation. Apparently, she was shot by mistake.”
“It would be disastrous if this came out.”
“Exactly, Dylan,” Haynes says. “You should go through this file for me. I advise you to report back as early as possible.”
He hands the file to Dylan.
Dylan collects it and heads out, meeting Altagracia on the way.
“Good evening, Aunt,” he greets.
“Dylan,” Altagracia responds, smiling softly. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“Work, Aunt,” he pauses slightly. “I have been stuck with work.”
“Even now,” she responds, eyeing the file in his hands. “Now that Haynes is married, he may be set back by a few things at the office since he has to handle his marriage.”
Dylan nods.
“You should take care of things for your younger brother, as you always have.”
“You don’t have to worry about anything. I am always here to make sure everything is right,” Dylan smirks.
Altagracia beams as she pats his shoulder, then watches him walk away.
“Yes, Dylan. Keep looking out for my son. Make him a perfect leader while I make sure no one ever finds out that you are the actual heir of the Van Doren empire,” she smirks as she speaks to herself.
- Writer
