"Following breakfast, Taylor roamed through her quarters in the grand Kadman mansion." Her steps were slow and pensive, as if each one carried the weight of deep indecision. She paced among the refined furniture, her eyes wandering as she tried to find answers to the countless questions haunting her mind.
"She felt like a phenomenon, as though she were faced with an insurmountable test."
"To her, Damián was an enigma, a stranger circling Adam like a serpent, waiting for the perfect moment to strike."
Heavens, needed help and didn't even know what she was fighting for. She decided to call Beatrice Phillips, who listened attentively and responded with a determination evident in her voice: "I feel like crying for you right now; my heart breaks for you, Taylor. I understand you may be at your limit in this situation, but I promise to do everything I can to help in this situation. For today, I think you should go to your apartment. I'll talk to Clarice about accompanying you. Keep pretending that nothing is happening and that nothing has changed."
As she walked, Taylor could feel the weight of Beatrice Phillips' words still echoing in her mind, like a constant reminder of her responsibilities and commitments. Beatrice's determination in her voice was a painful reminder that she couldn't afford to falter, even in the face of the adversities she faced.
"Later that day..."
Clarice and Oliver arrived at the restaurant and sat at the table in an elegant, sober, and tasteful environment. As they settled in, Clarice began to talk about the media zoo from the previous day, when they photographed Damian, Aster, and other friends wearing clothes from a major designer.
Her tone of voice was filled with indignation, and her facial expression clearly showed her irritation. She gestured with her hands sharply, demonstrating her frustration with the situation. The news seemed to be a personal affront to her, as if it were challenging her authority and common sense.
After a few bites, it was a strange afternoon. The sky outside was cloudy, but it also seemed cloudy in the restaurant atmosphere. During lunch, Taylor, Clarice, and Oliver found themselves discussing the business world and current issues.
Taylor, looking at Oliver, casually remarked, "Oliver Phillips is joining us for a simple lunch and a check-up on my house."
Oliver solemnly replied, "Taylor, today, you and my dear sister Clarice will have my company."
However, for Oliver, the truth was different: he wanted information about Damian—for some reason, he couldn't even justify—and this desire intensified in him after the first encounter.
Taylor looked at Oliver, raising her eyebrows and silently asking a thousand questions. Why did this matter to him?
Taylor responded, trying not to be unpleasant, and criticized Damian. She refused to consider the possibility of Oliver having any romantic interest in Damian.
Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled outside, announcing the imminent rain that would turn the afternoon into a melancholic symphony.
In just three days, Taylor was supposed to move back to her old apartment, now completely redesigned, leaving behind the imposing Kadman Mansion.
Inside Taylor's apartment, the flashes of lightning were softly reflected in the room through the opulent fabric of the curtains, adding a fleeting glow to the freshly painted walls and meticulously arranged furniture. Every detail seemed to have been carefully chosen to evoke a sense of luxury and comfort.
The furniture, now revitalized, displayed elegant lines and flawless finishes, providing a harmonious contrast with the soft, neutral tones of the walls. Soft cushions adorned the sofa, while plush rugs added a sense of coziness to the environment.
The windows, framing panoramic views of the city, were adorned with billowing silk curtains that danced gently with the breeze. The carefully planned lighting created a warm and inviting atmosphere, highlighting carefully selected artworks adorning the walls.
To ensure security and privacy, the apartment was equipped with high-tech computerized locks and locks, along with a discreetly installed surveillance camera system.
Amidst the silence enveloping the space, it was evident that every aspect of the apartment had been meticulously planned to provide a refined and indulgent living experience.
Taylor enters the room with a faint smile on her face, carrying an elegant tray with a coffee maker and some fine cups, as well as a bottle of whiskey and suitable glasses. She carefully places the tray on the coffee table, where Clarice and Oliver are sitting.
"Look, we have fresh coffee to warm up our rainy afternoon and whiskey for you, Oliver; I know you prefer something stronger," Taylor says, her professional tone fitting perfectly with the gray mood of the day outside.
She serves the coffee gracefully, filling the cups and letting a delicious aroma waft through the air. Then she pours some whiskey into a glass, offering it to Oliver with a graceful gesture.
With a toast between them, the aroma of coffee and the richness of whiskey fill the space, bringing some normality and warmth to the rainy afternoon.
The engine roars as Michel, the driver, skillfully maneuvers through the busy streets of the city. The sound of horns echoes loudly, blending with the hum of tires on the rain-soaked asphalt. The headlights of the black SUV behind them seem mesmerizing, blinking like evil eyes amidst the darkness in the gloomy clouds.
"What's going on, Michel?"
Oliver asks, his voice filled with concern as he watches the black SUV relentlessly following them.
"We're being followed, sir," Michel replies, his calm voice contrasting with the growing tension inside the car.
Shadows of concern, anxiety, and apprehension dance in Oliver's eyes, mirroring the growing sense of imminent danger permeating the air.
As Michel maneuvers evasively to avoid a collision, the car is violently shaken, causing Clarice, Oliver, and Taylor to cling to their seats. Clarice struggles to breathe amidst the chaos, her chest rising and falling frantically with the effort.
With a determined expression, Taylor turns to Clarice, holding her hand firmly. "Stay calm; take deep breaths," she orders, trying to convey a sense of calm amidst the turmoil.
And for a moment, she saw that Clarice lived in a pattern, like a lost lamb, always needing to be protected from the wolves, but who would protect her?
Meanwhile, Oliver curses angrily, his fists clenched in frustration as he tries to process the gravity of the situation. He looks at Clarice with concern, his expression hardened by a determination to protect her at all costs.
As the speed increases, fear takes hold of the car. The black SUV beside them looms as an imminent threat, its headlights cutting through the darkness with an almost predatory intensity.
With a deafening crash, the black SUV hits the car they're in, causing the vehicle to dangerously sway on the brink of flipping over. Michel struggles to maintain control, his muscles tense as he presses his foot on the accelerator.
"Let's get out of here, Michel. What the hell is going on?" Oliver shouts, his voice tinged with panic and indignation at the sudden attack.
The terrible moment only escalates, and Oliver feels restless despite his efforts not to show it. His clenched fists reflect the tension coursing through his body—a desperate urge to be in control of the situation. With every movement of the car, they are violently thrown from side to side, the seatbelt pressing them harder with each jolt, an oppressive urge suffocating the air around them.
Taylor tightens her fingers firmly around Clarice's hand, seeking a sense of security amidst the impending chaos. But before they can react, a deafening crash fills the air, followed by a wave of scorching heat as shards from the car windows hit them like projectiles.
"Get down!" Oliver's voice cuts through the air, firm and authoritative. He undoes the seatbelt with fierce speed, pulling Taylor and Clarice into the small space between the seats, where they can find some protection against the relentless attack.
With impressive skill and cold determination, Oliver accesses a secret compartment in his car and retrieves a weapon, his relentless determination cutting through the air as he prepares to confront the attackers. The next few seconds are filled with the deafening sound of gunfire echoing through the street, tires screeching in protest, and more glass shards raining down on them mercilessly.
As the shots continue to echo, Clarice screams muffled, her gaze vacant and dazed as she struggles to maintain consciousness. Clarice's eyes widen in horror as she sees the expression of agony on Taylor's face, and gradually, the light in her eyes begins to fade, replaced by a growing darkness.
Clarice tries to move her hands towards her chest in a desperate attempt to contain the pain erupting within her. Uncontrollable spasms run through her body as the scarlet red of blood contrasts with the gray of her clothes and the white of her skin, a terrifying image of violence and despair.
To escape the crossfire, Michel relies on his experience and fearlessness, executing a risky maneuver to take the car to busier streets, hoping to shake off the gunmen. However, the criminals show no mercy, continuing to shoot relentlessly in their direction.
When the car finally loses control and collides violently with a tree, causing a deafening crash that echoes through the streets, chaos ensues. Screams of terror and emergency sirens fill the air as the scene unfolds before them in a terrible symphony of chaos and despair.
As paramedics provide first aid, Oliver finds himself in a state of contained panic. His eyes sweep frantically across the scene, desperately searching for his sister amid the twisted wreckage of the car. His heart pounds uncontrollably in his chest, an oppressive sense of terror settling in his mind as he faces the possibility of losing his only sister.
First aid was rendered at the scene of the accident as police arrived, shouting orders not to move anything before the arrival of the investigative police. The airbag, although it cushioned part of the impact, was not able to prevent all injuries.
Oliver was visibly affected, with a deep cut on his eyebrow several abrasions on his face and body, and his shirt stained with blood, witnessing the intensity of the impact. Michel, the driver, did not escape unscathed; his arm was clearly broken, hanging abnormally by his side.
As Michel is treated by paramedics, he feels consumed by guilt and anguish. He remembers the moment he realized they were being followed, panic growing in his chest as he struggled to maintain control of the vehicle. Every evasive move, every risky maneuver—he did everything he could to protect his passengers, but still failed to avoid the terrible fate that befell them.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he murmurs repeatedly, his words echoing in his mind like a mantra of penance.
When the paramedics attend to Clarice, they discover that she has suffered a severe concussion as a result of the violent impact of the accident. Blood gushes from a deep cut in her forehead, where shards of glass hit her during the collision. Her eyes are closed, but she emits low moans of pain when she is moved, indicating that she is conscious but disoriented.
As they carefully place her on a stretcher, Clarice groans in pain, her hand instinctively reaching for the site of the wound on her head. Her expression is one of confusion and distress, her world spinning in a blur of pain and disorientation.
Meanwhile, as paramedics approach Taylor, the contrast between her figure and the serious injuries she suffered is shocking. She is pale and still, slumped on the car seat, a halo of blood forming around her. Her dress is now torn and stained red, a haunting reminder of the violence of the incident.
A tense silence envelops the scene as paramedics focus on Taylor, their serious expressions revealing the severity of the situation. They apply gauze pads over the wound to try to stem the bleeding, but it's evident she's losing blood rapidly.
The bullet that struck Taylor is dangerously close to her heart, and her condition is critical. She is unconscious, her breathing weak and irregular, as if each breath is a struggle. Every passing second feels like an eternity, and the urgency in the air is palpable as paramedics work frantically to stabilize her.
As paramedics administer emergency procedures, Taylor's face is ashen, her serene expression contrasting with the surrounding turmoil. Her mind wanders in a state of unconsciousness, where dreams and reality blend into a hazy blur. Fragmented images dance in her mind, flashes of her life passing before her eyes like scenes from a distorted film.
The arrival of Beatrice Philips at the hospital was striking. Through the hospital corridors, she walked quickly and with an altered voice: "Where are my children? Where are my children? How are they? Where are they?" Sarah Campbell supported her, speaking all the time: "Calm down, calm down; it's all under control now."
Among the rich and powerful, Greta May cried silently, unable to speak. Elizabeth Kadman gently comforted her, sharing the weight of anguish and concern that weighed upon them.
Taylor's medical condition was the most severe. She had been shot, and the bullet was lodged near her heart. Taylor was in the operating room, fighting for her life as doctors worked frantically to try to save her.
Elizabeth felt inconsolable. Guilt consumed her, every thought returning to that moment when she suggested that Taylor not work and go to her apartment. She couldn't bear the idea that her words might have contributed to putting Taylor's life in danger. The weight of responsibility bore down on her shoulders, making each breath a painful effort.
As Elizabeth struggled with her own feelings of guilt and despair, she sought to comfort Greta, sharing her suffering with those who understood her pain. They came together in solidarity, drawing strength from each other to face the unknown awaiting outside the operating room.
Time seemed to drag on as they awaited news about Taylor's condition, each passing minute feeling like an eternity of uncertainty and fear. As silent tears streamed down Greta May's face, she silently prayed for a miracle that could bring Taylor back to her, alive and happy.
"But what they could never have imagined was that the system had been shaken and altered at its core, within its very framework, leading to a fundamental shift in the destiny crafted by the architects and their gardeners."