Chapter 5

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and desperation. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting an eerie glow over the cold, sterile hallway.

Alexander sat outside the operating room, his fingers steepled together, his nails digging into his palms. The rhythmic ticking of the clock above him drilled into his skull, each second dragging like an eternity. His mind was a battlefield.

His gaze fixated on the red IN SURGERY sign above the doors, but in reality, he wasn’t seeing anything at all. Instead, images of Ophelia flashed through his mind—her lifeless form collapsing into his arms, her blood soaking into his clothes, her lips curling into that bitter smile just before she plunged the knife into her stomach.

A fresh wave of rage rolled through him.

She was a viper. A cunning, manipulative woman who had sunk her venomous fangs into everything he held dear. His mother. His father. His life.

So why, then, did his hands still tremble?

Why had his heart nearly stopped when she fell? Why did the sight of her blood feel like someone had driven a knife into his chest?

Alexander clenched his fists. She deserves this, doesn't she?

That was what he kept telling himself.

She had tried to kill him. She had tried to kill Wren. So now seeing her hurt should feel victorious.

But when he saw the glass marks on her arms and legs, something inside him twisted, something dark and painful. His breath came out ragged as his mind replayed the accusations she had hurled at him, her voice dripping with agony and betrayal.

"Why did you have to destroy my family? Why did you push my mother to her death?"

He hadn’t done it.

Had he wanted to? Yes. He had wanted to see that woman suffer, had wanted to make her pay for what she had done to his mother.

But he didn't. The police had told him that Ophelia’s mother had fallen due to mental health issues, brought on by her company’s bankruptcy.

Yet Ophelia still blamed him. Still looked at him as if he were the one who had pushed her off that balcony.

He could have explained. He could have told her the truth but he decided not to because he needed her to hate him. Her love had always made him weak.

And Alexander Gray couldn’t afford to be weak anymore.

Not when his father had put a gun to his own temple after suffering financial ruin at the hands of Ophelia’s family. Not when his mother had spent years drowning in grief, living in a house where every memory was a reminder of her suffering. Not when Wren had come to him, tears in her eyes, telling him how Ophelia had pushed his mother down the stairs.

Alexander’s head snapped up, rage burning through his veins.

"How dare she?" he thought bitterly. How dare she act like the victim when she destroyed everything?

And yet…He could still remember her from college—how bold and confident she used to be. The way she used to laugh with reckless abandon, as if the world couldn’t touch her. He was drawn to her at first glance.

His mother had never held hatred toward Ophelia’s family. Even when the scandal had erupted, when his father’s affair had come to light, his mother had only said, "We all make our own choices, Alex. Don't let hatred ravage your feelings."

His mother, Catherine, was always kind and gentle towards everyone.

But Ophelia had taken that kindness and shattered it into a million pieces.

And that's why he wanted to hate her as much as possible.

But the memory of her bloodied body in his arms, the warmth seeping from her skin as she looked up at him with those empty, resigned eyes—I don’t love you anymore, Alexander.

It haunted him.

The doors to the operating room burst open making him instantly shot to his feet.

A doctor walked out, removing her mask. “We managed to stabilize her. The knife missed her major organs, but she lost a lot of blood. We’re monitoring her condition closely.”

His shoulders relaxed, the weight on his chest lifting just slightly.

“She’ll live,” the doctor added. Alexander nodded stiffly, not trusting himself to speak.

But before the doctor left, she paused. “Her arms and legs…the wounds from the glass…” She hesitated before asking, “Did she do that to herself?”

Something in his stomach twisted. “No,” he said, voice rough. “She was attacked.”

The doctor studied him for a moment before nodding and walking away. Alexander turned toward the window that looked into her hospital room. She looked extremely pale and fragile as if she was barely alive.

A woman who had once been full of fire, reduced to nothing but ashes. He subconsciously stepped inside. She was still unconscious, an IV drip in her arm, a heart monitor beeping steadily beside her.

He approached her slowly, standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at her sleeping form.

He still couldn't believe that She had tried to kill herself. For the first time, the reality of that settled into his chest like a stone.

“Ophelia,” he murmured but got no reply.

She looked so…small like this. He exhaled sharply, gripping the railing of the hospital bed.

“What the hell have we become?” he whispered.

Once, she had been the woman who turned his world upside down. The woman he thought he could build a future with.

Now, she was the woman who tried to kill him. The woman he tried to destroy.

And yet, in this quiet, sterile room, with only the sound of the heart monitor between them, the only thought running through his mind was—

Why does it still hurt so much?

Feeling conflicted he turned around and walked out of the ward.

"Alexander!" The sharp voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality. He turned his head to see Wren rushing towards him, her face etched with worry.

"You should see a doctor," she urged, her hands reaching for his wounded shoulder. "You’re still bleeding!"

But Alexander didn’t react much. Instead, his mind raced with different thoughts and he turned to glare at her while shoving her hand away. Wren flinched and stared in his cold eyes.

There was something different about the way he was looking at her from earlier.

"A-Alexander?" she murmured, forcing a weak smile. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

His gaze didn’t waver and his mind replayed everything—Ophelia’s words, her accusations, the way Wren had screamed and stepped out of the way when Ophelia had lunged at him with the glass shard.

She had acted terrified but didn't try to help him at all. Instead she was trying to save herself.

"Why did you run?" Alexander asked suddenly, his voice eerily calm.

Wren blinked in fear. "W-What?"

"You ran when she attacked. You didn’t try to stop her. You screamed and just ran to the safe side.

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Alexander took a step closer to her, making her gulp in fright.

"You saved me that day from fire, didn’t you?" he asked softly.

She nodded quickly and looked away. "Of course! I—I was trying to protect you, Alexander! I—"

"Then why can’t you look me in the eyes right now?"

Wren stiffened at that. A flicker of panic flashed across her face, so brief that most wouldn’t have noticed.

His hand shot forward, gripping her throat. Wren let out a strangled gasp, her hands flying up to grasp his wrist. "A-Alexander—!"

His grip wasn’t tight enough to choke her, but enough to make a point. "Tell me the truth, Wren. Did you lie to me? Did you really save me?"

Her eyes widened in terror. "N-No! I would never—!"

His fingers pressed slightly, just enough for her to struggle for breath. "If I find out you betrayed me," he whispered darkly, "I won’t spare anyone."

Tears welled up in Wren’s eyes. "I love you! I love you too much to lie!"

Alexander stared into her desperate eyes. Then, slowly, he released her. Wren staggered back, coughing, her hands flying to her throat. She looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed.

"I would never betray you. You’re everything to me, Alexander."

He didn't answer because right now, there was something more important.

"The child," he said coldly. "Where is my child?"

Wren bit her lip still coughing. "T-The baby is fine."

A breath he hadn’t realized he was holding slipped from his lips. A flicker of relief flashed across his face—but only for a moment.

"Should we tell Ophelia?" Wren asked hesitantly.

"No." The answer was instant.

"B-But—"

"We are not telling her." His voice was final.

Wren hesitated, then lowered her gaze. "I understand. I'll do whatever you want.”

At that moment, the doctor walked in. Alexander immediately turned to him.

"I want an update every hour," he ordered him.

The doctor hesitated. "Mr. Gray, I understand your concern, but—"

"Every. Hour," Alexander repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The doctor sighed but nodded. "Understood."

As soon as the doctor left, Alexander turned to his assistant.

"Prepare the car.”

The assistant bowed. "Yes, sir."

Wren frowned curiously. "Where are you going?"

"To see my child."

Her lips parted. "Let me come with you."

"No,” He rejected her immediately which made her disappointed

"Alexander—"

"I don’t want you or anyone else there." His tone was like ice.

She clenched her fists holding her anger back. "But—"

He shot her a warning look which shut her instantly. Without another word, Alexander turned and left. As he disappeared down the hallway, Wren stood frozen in place, her heart pounding.

She knew he had begun to suspect her.

And if Alexander ever discovered the truth—She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing down the panic.

She couldn’t let that happen.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she sighed in irritation. She already knew who it was.

Pressing the phone to her ear, she kept her voice low. "I already paid you."

The woman on the other end, Alexander’s longtime housekeeper, let out a dry laugh. "You paid me for my silence once. But silence…is expensive. And lately, I find myself needing more money."

Wren clenched her teeth furiously. "This wasn’t the deal. I gave you enough to keep your mouth shut. Don’t get greedy."

"Oh, but Miss Wren…it’s not greed. It’s survival. You see, I know exactly what happened that night. I helped you make it look like Ophelia pushed Catherine down those stairs. I lied to Alexander. But if he ever finds out the truth, it won’t be just you he destroys. It’ll be me too. And that kind of risk? Well…it comes with a price."

Wren’s hands trembled with fury. "How much?"

"One million."

She nearly dropped her phone. "One million?! Are you insane?" she hissed, forcing herself to stay quiet.

"That’s the cost of keeping my mouth shut. And considering what Alexander did to the last person who lied to him…I’d say it’s a bargain."

Wren’s stomach twisted in dread. The memory of Alexander’s rage, the way his grip had tightened around her throat just moments ago, was still fresh.

He wouldn’t spare her if he found out.

She took a deep breath. "I don’t have access to that kind of money. You know that."

"Oh, I know. But Ophelia does.”

“What?’

"All you need is her fingerprint. I checked—the money is still there. Alexander never touched it. She’s unconscious, isn’t she? You don’t even need her to be awake."

Wren’s grip on the phone tightened as her brain began to pull strings.

"Forty-eight hours, Miss Wren. Or I'll tell Master Alexander everything." She hung up.

Wren stood there, shaking with wrath. She had already given that woman more money than she was worth. But the greedy fool just kept pushing.

Her gaze flickered toward Ophelia’s hospital room where she lay unconscious and helpless.

“Maybe, it won't be too difficult.”