The waiting room of the private hospital was quiet, the kind of silence that settles deep into your bones and refuses to let go. I sat in one of the stiff leather chairs, staring blankly at the clock on the wall as the seconds ticked by. It had been hours since I found her—Peyton Hamilton—lying on the side of the road, barely conscious and covered in blood. My mind couldn't stop replaying the scene, trying to piece together how she had ended up there.
Peyton wasn't just anyone; she was Lucas Hamilton's wife. Lucas, my rival in the business world, a man who was as ruthless as he was powerful. But Peyton… Peyton was different. I'd met her a few times at various events, and she had always struck me as someone who didn't quite fit into Lucas's world. She was warm, kind, and had a brightness about her that seemed out of place in our cutthroat circles.
And now she was here, fighting for her life, and I couldn't shake the question that had been gnawing at me since I found her: How could Lucas let this happen?
The door to the waiting room opened, and James, my best friend and the doctor I had brought her to, walked in. His face was grim, and I knew whatever he was about to say wouldn't be good news.
"Karl," James said as he took a seat beside me. "She's stable for now, but it's not good."
My heart pounded in my chest. "What happened to her, James? How bad is it?"
He hesitated, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something much darker. "She's suffered significant trauma. She's lost a lot of blood, and…" He paused, his gaze locking with mine. "She was pregnant, Karl. About four weeks along. She miscarried due to the trauma."
The air left my lungs in a rush. Pregnant? Peyton had been carrying Lucas's child? I hadn't expected that. But the weight of the news was crushing, and I struggled to process it.
"There's something else," James continued, his voice even more serious. "We found irregularities in her blood work. It could be an infection or something else, but we need to run more tests to be sure. She's in critical condition, and we're monitoring her closely."
My mind was spinning. How had Peyton ended up like this? I couldn't understand how someone like her, someone who seemed so full of life, could be reduced to this state. And Lucas… What role did he play in all of this? Did he even know what had happened to his wife? Was he aware that she was lying in a hospital bed, fighting for her life?
The anger that simmered within me wasn't directed at Lucas—at least not entirely. It was more at the situation, at the fact that Peyton had been hurt so badly and that no one had been there to protect her. Lucas was supposed to be her protector, but where was he now? How could he have failed her so completely?
"I don't understand," I said, more to myself than to James. "How could she end up like this? Lucas… does he know?"
James shook his head. "I have no idea, Karl. All I know is that she's in bad shape, and we need to figure out what's going on with her blood work before we can do anything else. But you're right to wonder. It's strange, isn't it? Someone like Peyton… you wouldn't expect this."
"No, you wouldn't," I muttered, my mind still trying to wrap around the situation. "Lucas is supposed to be this powerful man, someone who controls everything in his life. How could he let this happen?"
James didn't answer, and I didn't expect him to. There were too many questions and not enough answers. But one thing was clear—something was very wrong, and I wasn't going to rest until I found out what.
"I'm staying here," I said, not caring that I was repeating myself from earlier. "Until we know more, I'm staying."
James nodded, understanding my need to be here. "I'll keep you updated. We'll do everything we can for her, Karl. But right now, it's a waiting game."
He left me alone again, the silence of the waiting room pressing in on me once more. I leaned back in the chair, closing my eyes as I tried to think through the situation.
I had always been someone who thrived on control, on knowing every detail, every possible outcome. But this… this was something I couldn't control, and it frustrated me to no end.
What had happened to Peyton? And where was Lucas in all of this? Had he even noticed his wife was missing? Had he seen the blood on the road, the signs of the struggle, and realized that his wife was in danger? Or was he oblivious, too caught up in whatever deals and schemes he had going on to notice that his life was falling apart?
I couldn't stop thinking about the last time I had seen Peyton, at some gala a year ago. She had been smiling, her hand resting lightly on Lucas's arm as they mingled with the other guests. She had looked happy, or at least content. But now… now everything had changed.
A part of me wanted to confront Lucas, to demand answers, to force him to tell me what had happened. But another part of me knew that wasn't the right move, not yet. I needed to wait, to gather more information, to understand the full scope of what had happened before I acted.
But as I sat there, the image of Peyton lying on that road refused to leave my mind. She was someone who had always seemed too good for the world she was a part of, too kind, too gentle. And now she was paying the price for it.
I wasn't sure what my next move would be, but one thing was certain: I wasn't going to let this go. Peyton deserved better than this, and if Lucas had failed to protect her, then I would make sure someone did.
For now, all I could do was wait, and hope that the answers I needed would come soon.