Alexander moved swiftly through the walk-in closet, packing clothes and essential items into a small traveling box.
Camilla trailed after him, her steps fraught with worry, every movement echoing her growing unease.
"I'm going with you," She declared, her voice firm and unwavering.
Alexander paused, his hand still clutching a stack of shirts. He slowly turned to face her, his expression resolute. "No," he replied with equal determination.
Camilla frowned deeply, her brows knitting together as she retorted, "What do you mean, no?... I'm coming with you." Her voice held a stronger resolve than before, emphasizing her determination.
Alexander shook his head, his hands now gripping the edges of the open box.
He spoke with a hint of frustration in his voice, "No... I can't have you follow me, especially when the outcome is as unpredictable as it is. You're safer here in Paris."
Camilla stood her ground, her gaze unwavering as she repeated herself, her voice firm, "I'm going with you."
Alexander, overwhelmed by her stubbornness, threw the stack of clothes as well as the box he had been holding down onto the floor in frustration.
He turned to face her again, his frustration growing as he spoke, "Why do you have to be so stubborn, huh?" His voice unintentionally raised a little.
Taking a deep breath, he continued, "My aunt's husband is already hospitalized and at the brink of death just because of this psycho who we thought was dead..."
He took a step closer to Camilla, his hands gently cupping her face as he tilted it upwards, making sure she met his gaze.
"Camilla... I love you so much, and I don't think I can ever forgive myself if anything happened to you."
His voice softened as he tried to make her understand, his blue eyes locked onto her tear-glistening ones as he continued, "You going with me to Los Angeles will only make me worry about your safety constantly. But here, I can..."
Before he could finish his sentence, Camilla cut him off, her voice resolute.
"How can you be sure that staying here means I'll be safe? This Red Saint guy could be anywhere,"
"So, how can you be sure I'll be safe here?" She argued, her shoulders pulled up defensively.
Alexander continued to gaze at Camilla intently, his voice carrying a note of urgency as he asked, "Do you trust me?"
Camilla held his gaze, her mind racing with memories of the past. She recalled the last time he had asked her that question, after her accident a year ago when she had lost their baby.
She remembered lying in the hospital bed, weak and depressed, yet she had said yes to that question. But back then, Alexander had fallen short of her trust, breaking her heart.
Now, after the misunderstandings that had led to their separation had been cleared, and they had reconciled, him asking her the same question again sent her into a whirlwind of thoughts.
Camilla stared at him in silence for a little while longer, her eyes locked onto his. Then, finally, she replied with a determined yet fragile tone, "Yes."
A gentle smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's lips as he heard Camilla's affirmation.
Without another word, he reached for her, pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss.
•~•~•~•~•~
After an exhausting 11-hour flight from Paris to Los Angeles and another two hours of travel, Alexander finally arrived at the hospital where Reynold had been admitted.
It was late at night, and the sterile corridors felt eerily quiet.
The echoing sound of his shoe heels resonated as he made his way to the nurse stationed behind the reception desk.
"Good evening," he greeted, his voice tinged with anxiety.
The young nurse with dark brown hair and thick-rimmed glasses framing her face looked up from her computer screen, offering a warm but tired smile.
"Good evening, sir. How may I assist you tonight?" She inquired politely, her fingers poised above the keyboard, ready to enter any necessary information.
"My name is Alexander Cena, and I'm here to see Mr. Reynold Becknard. He was admitted here about two weeks ago," Alexander explained, his voice steady but concerned.
The nurse nodded and inquired further, "Could you also provide your relationship to the patient?"
"I'm here as family, he's married to my aunt, Clarissa Becknard," Alexander replied, providing the required details.
She nodded once more, her attention now focused on the computer at her desk as she sifted through the records. After about twenty seconds, she raised her head to face him.
"Yes, I see Reynold Becknard listed as a patient. Please sign in on the visitor's log, and I'll provide you with a visitor's badge."
Alexander complied, taking the offered pen and signing the log with his signature.
"Thank you, Mr. Cena. Here's your visitor's badge. Please make sure it's visible at all times while you're in the hospital," she instructed, still maintaining her friendly demeanor.
"Thank you. Could you also tell me which room he's in?" Alexander inquired.
"Of course. He's in ward 214, sir. Just take a right at the end of the corridor, turn left, and take five turns until the end of the corridor," she replied, providing clear directions.
"Alright...thank you," Alexander acknowledged before heading in the direction she had described, his heart heavy with worry for his aunt's husband.
Upon reaching the hospital ward room, he spotted his grandmother, Harriet, leaning on her walking stick.
His younger sister, Isabel, and his Aunt, Sophia, were gathered outside a ward door.
Charles stood next to his mother Sophia, his hands in his pockets, his expression a mix of relief and concern.
As soon as Isabel saw Alexander, her face lit up with joy, and she ran towards him. She wrapped her arms around her older brother, hugging him tightly.
"Alexander! You're finally here!" Isabel exclaimed, her voice filled with relief as she clung to him.
Returning her hug with equal warmth, Alexander reassured her with a gentle smile, "I promised I'd be here, didn't I?" They released their embrace and exchanged warm glances.
Alexander looked ahead at his family, his gaze, especially on his frail grandmother, Harriet, who stood there with a sense of resilience.
"Good evening, Grandma...Good evening, Aunt Sophia," he greeted them, and both elderly women nodded in acknowledgment. He exchanged nods with Charles as well.
A heavy silence hung in the air for a while before Alexander couldn't contain his curiosity any longer.
"Why didn't anyone inform me about this sooner?" he asked, his gaze shifting between them.
Harriet's eyes turned to Isabel, who lowered her head in guilt before looking back at Alexander.
"We weren't supposed to tell you until we confirmed that Red Saint was really alive and that it was him, not one of his associates using his identity for revenge," she explained, taking slow steps toward Alexander.
Alexander's eyes drifted towards the transparent door of the ward where Clarissa and her triplets surrounded Reynold, who had an oxygen mask and various wires and equipment to keep him stable. "How is he?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.
Charles stepped forward, his tone heavy, and replied, "He slipped into a coma right after they brought him in, and he's been like this ever since. The doctors say he's not responding to treatment, and the chances of him surviving are very slim."
The weight of Charles' words hung in the air, casting a somber shadow over the group as they stood in front of Reynold's room, their thoughts and worries weighing heavily on them.
Alexander's concern extended to Clarissa, who sat by Reynold's side, her hand tightly gripping his. He focused on her, his voice gentle as he inquired, "And Aunt Clarissa?"
Their attention shifted to the transparent glass door, observing the woman who appeared drained and disheveled.
Her eyes were swollen, and red, with dark circles beneath them, a testament to the sleepless nights and endless worry she had endured.
The entire situation still felt surreal to her, like a cruel nightmare.
She couldn't help but reminisce about that particular day, the night of their anniversary.
They had planned to celebrate it that night together at home with their children, a day that was supposed to be filled with joy and love...
•~•~•~•~•
Flashback
•~•~•~•~•
The table was set in a celebratory manner, with candles casting a warm, flickering glow across the room.
Clarissa moved about gracefully, her attention on arranging everything her children had brought from the kitchen.
"Juliana!... The salad," she called out, her voice carrying through the house as she collected the lasagna from her son, Daniel, and placed it at the far end of the table among the other delectable dishes they had prepared.
Over the past year, Clarissa had taken a break from her modeling career to dedicate more time to her family, especially after Reynold had decided to step back from the divorce proceedings and give their marriage another chance.
During this time, she had discovered a passion for cooking and spent countless hours in the kitchen with her children, experimenting with new recipes and dishes.
Tonight was special. It was their 18th-year marriage anniversary, and Clarissa had planned a surprise home-cooked feast for Reynold, just for the two of them and their beloved children.
Juliana arrived with the salad, and Clarissa swiftly placed it beside the lasagna. She turned to face all three of her children, a radiant smile on her face.
"Alright, guys... I think your dad should be back any moment now, so go get dressed," she instructed, her excitement palpable.
Her children mirrored her enthusiasm, nodding eagerly before darting upstairs to their respective rooms.
Clarissa watched their retreating figures, her heart filled with a profound sense of happiness.
The love and unity of her family were precious to her, and this anniversary celebration was a symbol of the strength of their bonds and the hope for a brighter future together.
"Happy Anniversary, Ma'am..." Emily, their housekeeper, voiced, breaking Clarissa's gaze away from her children.
Clarissa turned to see the young woman extending her hands, holding a small box.
"I know it might be a little small, but it's my gift to you and Sir, Ma'am," Emily said as Clarissa accepted it.
She opened the box and was greeted by a stunning couple necklace, a broken heart with one part colored red and the other white, with "I love" written on the red part and "you" on the white.
"Emily, this is so... you didn't need to do this... this is expensive," Clarissa exclaimed, her hand on her chest, deeply touched by the gesture.
Emily chuckled warmly. "Of course, it is, Ma'am. I got it from your nephew's jewelry store."
Clarissa's eyes widened at those words. "You got this from Alexander's jewelry store!... No, no... You have to return this... Did you spend all of your salary to get this?" She quickly coupled back the box and handed it to Emily, concern etched on her face.
"No, Ma'am, I didn't," Emily assured her. "I've been saving for a while now. It might be expensive, but you and Sir deserve it for everything you did for me. And, by the way, I still have some money for myself."
Clarissa hesitated, still reluctant to accept such an expensive gift. "But you could have bought it at a store that sells cheaper jewelry... Do you know how much the cheapest jewelry at Alexander's store costs?"
Emily smiled warmly. "There was no way I was going to get you jewelry from another store when I knew there's one big-time jewelry seller in this family. That wouldn't sound nice. And like I said earlier, you and Sir deserve it. So please accept it, Ma'am."
Clarissa's eyes welled up with tears as she smiled and then pulled Emily into a heartfelt hug. "Thank you," she whispered, truly appreciating the sentiment behind the gift.
The ringing of Clarissa's phone interrupted their moment, and she chuckled softly.
"That's mine," she said, feeling around her pocket to locate her phone. "I think he's the one calling... I should go get dressed."
Clarissa retrieved her phone from her pocket and saw that the caller ID displayed 'Rey' with a few love emojis beside it, bringing a warm smile to her face.
She quickly accepted the call. "Hello, love," she greeted, her voice filled with affection.
However, the response she received sent shivers down her spine.
The voice on the other end was hoarse, raspy, and unmistakably familiar, but it wasn't her husband's voice. It was a voice that made her blood run cold.
"Hello, Clarissa," the voice greeted in a sickeningly ominous tone.
Clarissa's mouth hung agape with dread, but she managed to pull her composure together and dared to voice the question that weighed on her mind, "Who are you, and why are you using my husband's phone?" She whispered, her voice trembling.
The ominous male voice at the other end of the line chuckled darkly before stopping abruptly.
"Come on, Clarissa... you know who this is," he said, his words dripping with a sinister undertone, sending chills down her spine.
"....Red Saint," she whispered, her voice almost inaudible but laced with overwhelming fear, which didn't escape Emily's notice. Emily watched her with deepening concern.
"Atta girl," he responded, and Clarissa's fear deepened further, a shiver running down her spine.
"Where's my husband?" she managed to ask, her voice quivering with anxiety as she tried to mask her fear and panic.
He laughed again before speaking, "Don't worry. He's in a safe place."
Clarissa clenched her teeth, her fury mixing with the growing fear. "What do you mean, 'safe'? What have you done to him!?" She demanded, her voice quaking as the fear slowly began to consume her.
A tense silence followed, amplifying Clarissa's unease.
Finally, the voice on the other end spoke, "Well..." he paused again before adding, "...let's just say he's a bit indisposed. You can come pick him up at 103."
The voice came on merely a second later, "Oh!... and perhaps you should come with an ambulance too... it's a bit bloody," he said before abruptly cutting off the call, leaving Clarissa trembling in pure terror.
•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Flashback Ends
•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Clarissa stared at Reynold's motionless figure on the hospital bed, the monitor beside him beeping rhythmically, his body attached to various monitors, each displaying vital signs.
The room felt cold and sterile, a stark contrast to the warmth and happiness that she had thought would fill their home on the night of their anniversary.
Her heart ached at the sight of him, so vulnerable and lifeless in the hospital bed.
"Reynold," she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if she were afraid to disturb him. She reached out and tenderly brushed her fingers across his pale cheek.
Clarissa's mind was filled with questions and fears, but at that moment, all she wanted was to see him open his eyes and assure her that everything would be alright.
But the constant beeping of the monitors, the doctor's grim prognosis, and the suffocating silence in the room only heightened her anxiety about the possibility of losing him forever.