Chapter 20

Lauren

I was back on my feet soon after being discharged, the hospital buzzing as always with hurried footsteps and beeping machines. But today, the air felt heavier, thick with tension I couldn’t shake. Every glance, every whisper seemed aimed at me, and the weight of their judgment pressed hard.

It had been weeks since I’d taken over Owen’s care, and Dr. Bramble’s animosity had only grown. He’d never been warm, but now he stood before me, sneer in place, accusing me of the unthinkable—neglecting my duties and manipulating Owen’s feelings.

“You’ve been nothing but a distraction,” he spat, his voice sharp with disdain. “Taking advantage of a sick boy’s confusion—his mother, his mental state—”

Anger simmered, but I kept my voice calm. “You’re wrong,” I said evenly. “Owen’s condition has improved under my care. He’s not the withdrawn child he was. He’s responding to treatment, and you can’t deny that.”

Dr. Bramble’s face reddened, his fury barely contained.

“And as for your treatment plan,” I pressed, my tone sharper, “it was too conservative. I made changes because it was necessary, and it’s working.”

Silence stretched between us before he turned on his heel and stormed off, his footsteps echoing down the hall. I let out a shaky breath, relief short-lived as my phone buzzed in my pocket.

Liam’s voice hummed in my ear. “Lauren, the test results are in. Owen is related to Abigail, but he’s not your child.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. I’d suspected it, but seeing it confirmed made my chest tighten. It wasn’t a surprise, but it still felt like a loss.

I didn’t get a chance to respond before Liam’s voice crackled through the phone again, heavier than before. “And I need to tell you something else. Alexander also had a test done, but the details are classified. It could be Abigail, or it could be... you.”

I felt a chill sweep over me. The thought of Alexander being tied to all of this, of our past coming back to haunt me, was enough to make my chest tighten. I knew what he was capable of.

“But I’m confused,” Liam continued, his voice edged with concern. “Why would you suspect Owen is yours? Is it because you’ve found something, or do you hope that Alexander hasn’t betrayed you?”

The question lingered in the air, unanswered, as my mind spun with the possibilities. I didn’t want to face the truth, but I couldn’t ignore it any longer. The knot in my stomach tightened.

Just then, the shrill scream of a nurse echoed through the hallway, breaking my thoughts. “Owen is missing!” she cried, her voice frantic.

I was already moving before I even realized it. My heart hammered in my chest as I ended the call, my voice steady despite the panic that was rising within me. “Alert Alpha Alexander. Now. And find out where Owen could have gone! Does he have a usual spot?”

The nurses were all flustered, their eyes wide with confusion as they stumbled over their words. But I didn’t have time for hesitation. I grabbed one of them by the shoulder, my voice cutting through the chaos. “Take me to the security office. Now.”

We rushed down the hallway, my pulse pounding in my ears. I didn’t know where Owen had gone, but I couldn’t let him be alone.

In the security office, I watched the screens flicker to life, each one showing a different angle of the hospital. And then, a nurse gasped.

“There!” she pointed to one of the screens, her finger trembling. “I saw Owen. He’s... he’s running toward the operating room.”

I didn’t need to hear anything else. I was already moving, my legs carrying me toward the direction of the operating room. I didn’t know why he was there, but I had to find him. I had to make sure he was okay.

“Owen?” My voice trembled as I pushed through the heavy door, stepping into the suffocating blackness of the operating room. My words hung in the air, swallowed by the silence, the room so still it felt unnatural. "Owen, are you in here?"

The only answer was the echo of my own voice bouncing off the sterile walls, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. They grew fainter, further away, as though someone—or something—was deliberately avoiding me.

A chill ran down my spine.

Then, the unmistakable click of the door behind me slamming shut, followed by the cold, metallic scrape of the lock falling into place, rang through the room. The sound was so final, so deliberate, it made my blood run cold.

I spun around, my heart racing, my hands shaking. “No!” I screamed, trying to twist the handle, but it was useless. The door wouldn’t budge. It felt like a cruel joke, the way it held fast, unyielding, as if mocking me.

My chest tightened, and the walls of the room seemed to close in. My breath quickened, shallow and panicked.

Panic surged through me like a tidal wave. I pressed my palms against the door, slamming my fists into the metal, my desperation growing with every failed attempt. “Help! Somebody! Please!” I screamed, my voice cracking with terror. But there was no answer. The hospital was eerily silent, like it had swallowed me whole.

The darkness around me seemed to thicken, pressing down on me from all sides. I felt the suffocating weight of it in my lungs, like the air itself had turned to lead. My heartbeat was loud in my ears, too fast, too erratic. The quiet was so oppressive, it felt like the darkness was alive, watching, waiting for me to lose control.

I backed away from the door, my hands still shaking as I searched the room for some way out. But the operating room was a labyrinth of shadows and forgotten memories. My eyes strained against the dark, but I couldn’t see anything—just the oppressive blackness that felt like it was swallowing me whole.

This wasn’t just an accident. This wasn’t just about Owen. No, this was a trap. A sick, twisted game. And I had walked right into it.

My breath hitched, and my knees buckled. I collapsed to the cold floor, trembling uncontrollably. My pulse thudded in my temples as the panic grew, gnawing at the edges of my mind. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

I was drowning in my own fear, the same fear that had gripped me all those years ago, in the operating room—the same room, the same darkness.

The memories came crashing back in waves—sharp, vivid flashes of the operating table, the cold, sterile metal, the harsh lights blinding me as I lay there, helpless. The sound of the machines beeping, too loud, too urgent even if they weren’t on now. The feeling of something inside me slipping away, of being lost in a world of shadows, of nothingness.

No. No, I couldn’t do this again. I couldn’t let myself drown in it. Not here. Not now.

My hands clawed at the floor, desperate for something solid, something to ground me, but the floor was cold and slick beneath my fingers. I tried to stand, but my legs were shaking too violently. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t escape.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, when the panic threatened to consume me entirely, I heard a sound. The faintest creak of the door. And then, the violent crash of it splintering open.

A rush of air hit my face, sharp and cold, and I looked up, barely able to focus. Through the haze of my terror, I saw a figure standing in the doorway. His outline was blurred, but there was no mistaking who it was.

“Lauren.” Alexander’s voice was low, urgent, cutting through the fog of my panic. His arms were around me before I even realized what was happening, pulling me to him, his warmth a stark contrast to the cold that had consumed me.

I collapsed into his embrace, my body shaking uncontrollably, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I tried to steady myself. His hands were gentle as they cupped my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek in an attempt to soothe me, but it only made the terror inside me flare up.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm, as though he was trying to anchor me, trying to pull me back from the edge. “You’re safe.”