Isabella
The door creaked open, and Dr. Grey White stepped inside with a calm, confident demeanor. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed back, and his aged but sharp eyes behind wire-framed glasses looked over me with practiced ease. He had been our family doctor for as long as I could remember—older than fifty, with a depth of experience that made him one of the most trusted figures in my life.
"Follow my finger," he instructed, lifting his index finger in front of my face. His voice was smooth, professional, but gentle. He moved his finger slowly from side to side, and I obediently followed the motion with my eyes. Then, with a quick jolt, he brought it downward, causing my gaze to snap after it. He nodded to himself, satisfied, before reaching for his stethoscope.
The cool metal of the stethoscope pressed against my chest as he listened to my breathing. He moved it methodically, starting at my lungs, then down toward my stomach. Every few moments, he'd pause, listening carefully to the rise and fall of my breaths.
"Do you feel any pain? Severe pain?" Dr. White asked, his voice calm as ever, though there was a hint of concern in the way he watched me.
I glanced at my uncles and my grandfather. Their faces were masks of concern, though I could feel the faint undercurrent of formality in their expressions, especially from my uncles. They always played the part well, but I knew better. Still, their nods and encouraging smiles prodded me to answer.
"I feel fine," I replied, the words coming out a bit shaky. "No pain, apart from this ringing in my ears."
"That's normal," Dr. White assured me, pulling the stethoscope away. "After the impact, the ringing will stay for a while, but eventually, it will disappear." He turned to my grandfather, who had been standing there with his hands clasped together, his eyes wide with anxious anticipation.
"Everything looks normal. She'll be fine."
"Are you sure?" My grandfather's voice was rough, hoarse, as if the weight of the day had dragged his usually composed tone down. His hand nearly reached out to grip the doctor, his desperation palpable. "She has an event in two weeks. Will she be ready by then?"
Dr. White smiled softly, shaking his head. "As long as she refrains from anything strenuous or stressful, she will be okay."
"You hear that, darling?" Uncle Ben piped up, his tone laced with feigned concern. His eyes, however, betrayed him. The glint in them made it clear he couldn't care less about my condition. They all hoped I'd crumble under the pressure sooner or later. I sighed inwardly, catching Liam's concerned gaze from the corner of my eye.
Liam approached, handing me a cold can of cola. His presence was a relief, solid and comforting amidst all the fake sympathy swirling around me.
"Here," he said quietly, opening the can for me. We were sitting in a quiet VIP garden, an open-roofed space tucked away inside the hospital's interior. It was peaceful here, a haven from the constant murmurings of concern from distant relatives. The cool breeze caressed my skin as I took a sip of the cola, the fizzy liquid sharp and refreshing on my tongue.
"You hiding here?" Liam teased lightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. He seemed unbothered by the attention he was receiving from the nurses who couldn't help but giggle and glance in our direction.
"You're famous," I remarked, raising an eyebrow at the shy smiles they kept throwing his way.
"Not like you," he replied, leaning back in his chair.
"What do you mean?" I asked, turning to him.
He gave me a sidelong glance, his expression more serious than before. "The fans, they've lit candles outside. They're worried about you."
A lump formed in my throat, and my eyes darted to the clock. 8:00 am sharp. I had been out for that long? No wonder everyone had been so concerned.
Just then, I spotted my grandfather walking past with a group of three serious-looking men. He was all business, his expression hard and unreadable as he strode toward a private room. Liam and I exchanged a glance before he offered me his hand.
"Let's go," he said.
I limped slightly as I followed him, still feeling the lingering soreness from the impact earlier. We arrived just in time to catch the tail end of the conversation.
"How long?" My grandfather's voice was a sharp bark, full of restrained fury.
"The process is underway," one of the men replied nervously, clearly intimidated by his presence. "We are analyzing them thoroughly. Like you said, you want the best."
My grandfather wasn't satisfied. His brow furrowed, and his eyes flashed with frustration. "So how long? You saw the stunt those bastards just pulled in broad daylight. They won't be sitting still."
The men exchanged glances before one of them spoke again. "The group will be ready in two weeks, just in time for her tour."
I knew exactly what they were talking about. Grandpa had already briefed me on the plan—a specialized group being formed for my protection, young agents trained to blend in with me. They'd be under my control, my personal team, designed to protect the Falcon family's heir.
Grandfather noticed us then, whispering something to the men before walking over. His eyes shifted to Liam, a rare smirk playing at his lips.
"I heard you were of great help," he said, his voice losing some of its edge.
"Just doing my job, sir," Liam replied. "Though I care about her as a friend too."
Grandfather nodded, pleased. "Good. Because I have news for you." He paused, his smirk deepening. "I'm forming a group to protect my granddaughter, and from what I hear, you've had military training."
"Yes, sir," Liam confirmed, standing a bit straighter.
"I've spoken to your agency, and I've arranged for you to get a role in the movie she's in. You'll also be protecting her in places where the other team members can't follow."
Liam and I exchanged a glance, surprise and understanding passing between us.
"It will be my honor, sir," Liam replied with a smile, shaking my grandfather's hand.
"Good," Grandfather said, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction. "Now, go wave to your fans."
Taking a deep breath, I approached the window. As I peered down, my heart skipped a beat. A large crowd had gathered outside, holding candles and red lights. Their soft glow filled the street, illuminating the faces of those who had been waiting for hours. As soon as they saw me, they erupted into cheers and screams, the sound swelling like a wave of pure emotion.
I opened the window, leaning out slightly as I waved. The sight of them—so devoted, so concerned—moved me in a way I hadn't expected. Their cheers grew louder, echoing through the morning air, and for a brief moment, I let everything go.
For now, let me leave everything to my grandpa, I should concentrate on the upcoming event. I have a performance tour, in Hungry City and afterward a drama. another busy schedule ahead