[ NOA Blackstone Villa— Brandon's Master Suite ]
Beep... beep... beep...
Brandon's eyes fluttered open, squinting against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. He stared at the unfamiliar ceiling of his master suite in the NOA Blackstone Villa, its ornate moldings a far cry from the sterile hospital room he'd woken up in just a week ago.
Every muscle in his body screamed in protest as he tried to shift. He groaned, letting his head sink deeper into the plush pillow.
'Seriously? Back to this again?'
He thought, grimacing at the all-too-familiar beeping of medical equipment.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
One week into this new life, and he was already intimately reacquainted with the symphony of vital sign monitors.
'Is this some kind of joke?'
Brandon wondered, a wry smile tugging at his lips despite the pain.
'Get a second chance at life, but almost losing it after a few days...'
He closed his eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat translated into electronic beeps. It was a stark reminder of his mortality, even in this new body.
'Some blessing this is turning out to be,' he mused.
But as the initial fog of sleep lifted, the events of the previous night came rushing back.
The gala, the performance, the attack...
Brandon's eyes snapped open, his heart rate spiking enough to cause a noticeable change in the monitor's tempo.
'Elise. Bailey. Gordon Are they okay?'
Brandon's heart raced as he struggled to sit up, his muscles protesting with every movement.
Before he could make much progress, the door to his room swung open, and Annie rushed in, her face etched with concern.
"Oh, darling! Thank goodness you're awake," she exclaimed, quickly making her way to his bedside.
"Mom, What're you doing here?" Brandon croaked, his voice hoarse. "Bailey, Elise, Gordon... are they okay?"
"I came as soon as I heard," Annie's eyes softened as she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
"They're all fine, sweetheart. Everyone's safe. Don't you worry about a thing."
Relief washed over Brandon, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
Annie carefully helped him sit up, her touch gentle yet firm.
"Easy now," she murmured, adjusting his position.
"Let's get you comfortable."
She reached behind him, fluffing up the pillow and positioning it to support his back. Brandon winced slightly as he settled against it, but the pain was already starting to subside.
"There we go," Annie said, her voice filled with motherly warmth. She smoothed out the blanket over his legs, her movements precise and caring.
Brandon nodded, touched by her attentiveness.
"Yeah, thanks, Mom."
Annie perched on the edge of the bed, her eyes scanning his face for any signs of distress.
"You gave us quite a scare, you know. How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been hit by a truck,"
"Trucks…"
"Trucks of hitmen…"
Brandon admitted with a weak chuckle.
"But I'll live."
Annie's brow furrowed with worry as she reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
"My brave boy," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
"I'm just so grateful you're alright."
Brandon's eyes widened as a sudden realization hit him.
"Max... and the security team. Are they okay?"
Annie's face fell. She shook her head slowly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm sorry, darling. Max and others... they didn't make it."
Brandon felt his heart sink, a wave of guilt washing over him. These men had died protecting him.
"Their families..." he began, but Annie cut him off gently.
"Don't worry about that, sweetheart. We'll take care of them. The Blackstones always looks after its own."
Her voice was soft, but there was an underlying steel to it.
Brandon saw something flicker in his mother's eyes - a fierce, cold gleam that sent chills down his spine.
Annie's grip on his hand tightened.
"As for whoever is responsible for this," she continued, her tone now cold and razor-sharp, "they will be found. And they will pay dearly for what they've done."
"We will hunt them down," Annie declared, the slight smile on her lips not quite reaching the controlled fury in her gaze.
"Every last one of them."
Brandon's mind raced. The beeping of the medical equipment faded into the background as he grappled with a harsh realization.
'Being a superstar... it's not enough anymore.'
Images of the assassination attempt the night before flashed through his mind. He remembered the way Bailey's carefree smile turn dangerous as she gripped her weapon, the fierce concentration in Elise's eyes as she took aim.
'They were ready to die for me,'
Brandon thought, a lump forming in his throat.
'And I... I froze.'
The memory of his own confusion and helplessness during the attack stung. Despite the skills his body seemed to possess, he had been caught off guard, unprepared.
'I can't let that happen again. I won't.'
A seed of determination took root in Brandon's chest, growing stronger with each passing moment.
He clenched his fists, ignoring the dull ache in his muscles.
'I need to be more. So much more than just a superstar or a record label CEO.'
Brandon's jaw set, his eyes hardening with resolve.
He knew now that his new identity, his new life, came with responsibilities he hadn't even begun to understand.
But last night… was a wake up call.
The realization settled over him like a mantle, heavy but not unwelcome. Brandon took a deep breath, feeling something shift within him.
'No more playing around. It's time to step up and become whatever I need to survive and protect those I've come to care for.'
Brandon turned to his mother, his brow furrowed in thought.
"Mom, why were we attacked? The hitmen I engaged with were way too coordinated and well-trained... and to be able to set up an ambush so close to the NOA..."
Annie's lips curved into a warm but profound smile, although the sharpness in her eyes hadn't fully subsided.
"Who do you think did it, darling?"
Brandon paused, considering his answer carefully.
"The only people I've butted heads with are the Sinclairs, but I don't think it's them."