Chapter 3 The Warning
1265 Words
Leonardo left the hospital just after dawn, the sky still wearing the faded bruise of night. Amanda had woken from her coma, fragile but conscious, and though every instinct urged him to remain by her side, it felt inappropriate—intrusive, even—to continue washing and resting in the ward now that she was awake. She needed space. Privacy. A room that did not feel like a stranger was living in it.
So he drove back to Bel Air, stepping into the quiet sanctuary of his mansion. The hot shower washed the hospital scent from his skin; clean clothes restored the crisp control he relied on. Yet even as he buttoned his shirt, he felt the ghost of Amanda’s trembling voice lingering in his mind.
Why did you save me?
He had no answer yet. Only a feeling. Dangerous in its softness.
Sixteen minutes later he slid into the driver’s seat of his black Bugatti La Voiture Noire. The engine awakened with a deep, predatory purr. He often let his driver take over, but today he needed the distraction of control—of speed, of precision, of motion.
As he pulled onto the highway, he dialed his secretary.
“Boss Ferguson.”
Debra’s voice always tightened when she answered his calls. A breath, a tremor—like someone bracing for a sentence in a language only she understood.
“Debra,” Leonardo said, his tone cool, businesslike. “A delivery from Dominic Clothing will arrive shortly. Accept it and place it in my office. I’ll email you the details.”
“Yes, Boss Ferguson,” she replied quickly, too quickly.
He ended the call before she could cling to the sound of his voice.
In the quiet that followed, Debra closed her eyes and let a foolish flicker of hope bloom—an imagined whisper that maybe, finally, he had noticed her. A gift? Clothes sent to her? A gesture? Something?
But the truth twisted just as quickly.
No.
It was never about her.
Not once.
And now there was her.
The girl found on the roadside. Amanda Adams.
Debra tasted bitterness like metal in her mouth.
---
The delivery arrived minutes later—sleek black bags tied with silver ribbons, the signature of Dominic, the city’s most exclusive designer. Debra collected them with stiff professionalism and took the private elevator to the twenty-seventh floor of Safe-West Private Hospital.
She stepped out of the lift with her chin high, shoulders squared, her white blazer sharp against the sterile hallway. Every click of her heels was rehearsed, controlled, echoing off the marble floors like a warning.
When she entered the ward, Amanda was alone.
The girl sat up weakly, propped against pillows, her complexion still pale from trauma. But her eyes—soft, searching—lifted with cautious hope when she saw Debra.
“Miss Adams,” Debra said crisply. “These are for you.”
She placed the bags on the bedside table with the practiced grace of someone offering a gift she wished she could take back.
Amanda blinked at the packages—three outfits and a smaller bag of toiletries. “For me?” she whispered. “I… I don’t understand. Who are you?”
“They’re not from me,” Debra replied smoothly, her expression polite, her tone carrying frost beneath the veneer.
Amanda swallowed. “Then who—?”
“From my boss,” Debra said, allowing herself a tiny, triumphant sting of emphasis. My boss. Mine.
“Your boss?” Amanda repeated. “Who is your—”
“Mr. Ferguson,” Debra said.
Amanda’s breath hitched.
“Leonardo Ferguson…?”
Debra inclined her head, savoring the confusion, the fragile innocence flickering across Amanda’s face.
Amanda opened her mouth to speak, but Debra cut cleanly across her thought.
“Look, Miss Adams…” Her voice sharpened. “You need to understand your position. Boss Ferguson is showing interest in you—more than he should. He is a married man. His wife is pregnant. You’re young and beautiful, and men can be tempted. But if you let him linger around you… what exactly does that make you? A homewrecker? The reason a family breaks?”
Amanda stared at her, stunned.
“I—I don’t have feelings for him,” she managed. “And I barely even know him. Why would I—”
“That wasn’t a question,” Debra said coolly. “Whether you feel anything or not doesn’t matter. What matters is staying away. Go back to wherever you came from.”
Something in Amanda snapped back into place—something small but strong, a spark beneath the debris of her fear.
“Miss… whoever-you-are,” Amanda said, her voice quiet but steady. “I’ll call him however I want. He told me to call him Leo. If that bothers you, that sounds like a you-problem.”
Debra’s jaw tightened.
Amanda wasn’t finished.
“And I don’t need you making choices for me,” she said. “Married or not, that’s his life, not mine. Save your warnings. They don’t scare me.”
Debra’s smile disappeared.
“It’s not a threat,” she hissed. “It’s a warning, Miss Adams.”
“Oh really?” Amanda shot back, leaning slightly forward despite her weakness. “Then maybe his wife should be the one warning me.
Unless…”
She tilted her head.
“…you’re his wife?”
Debra’s face flickered—only a second, but enough.
Enough to give Amanda a burst of quiet satisfaction.
“I’ll say it once more,” Debra said, voice dangerously low. “Stay away from Boss Ferguson.”
Amanda held her gaze without flinching. “I can do that. But tell him to stay away from me too. I didn’t ask him to save me. I didn’t ask for his clothes. Or his attention. Don’t twist it like I’m chasing him.”
Debra froze.
She had miscalculated.
This girl was not naïve.
Not timid.
Not breakable.
She was steel wrapped in bruises.
Debra turned sharply. “Have a good day, Miss Adams,” she snapped, hurrying toward the door. The corridor was empty. Silent. Cold. She fast-walked to the elevator, disappearing like a shadow fleeing light.
---
Left in the quiet ward, Amanda fell back against the pillows, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Debra’s words replayed in her mind—sharp, cutting, poisonous. But Amanda refused to let them root.
Feelings?
She had no room for feelings.
Her life was a collapsing bridge—danger behind and nothing ahead.
She needed to disappear from the Jones family.
She needed a place to hide.
She needed a plan.
But she had no belongings.
No money.
No family.
No home.
Her heart clenched painfully.
Only one name came to her.
Lola.
Her best friend. Her only friend.
The girl who’d begged her to leave the Jones household years ago.
The girl she’d refused to burden.
Until now.
But Lola lived out of town—three and a half hours away on foot. Amanda’s body was still too fragile; the journey was impossible.
Then a thought flickered: Lola’s uncle.
He lived here in the city.
Perhaps he could give her shelter for a few days.
Long enough.
Just long enough to get to Lola.
Amanda’s hands tightened into fists.
She wouldn’t be a burden.
But she wouldn’t be prey again either.
One step at a time.
One breath at a time.
She would escape the Jones family.
She would survive.
Even if it meant starting her life over from nothing.
- Writer
