Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 142: Her Silence, My Storm [I]

The VIP wing of St. Lambert’s was built like a private estate—complete with imported Italian marble, privacy-screened glass walls, and a trauma team so elite their scrub caps had embroidered initials. None of that mattered. Not now.

I barged through the emergency doors with Isabella in my arms, and within thirty seconds, six people in navy uniforms were swarming.

"Orchid Suite One. Move."

"Clear it—everyone out. Cardiac and neuro. I want both teams ready."

"Get Kassel. Now."

No one questioned me.

They parted like water as I strode through.

Orchid Suite One was the best in the hospital. Top floor. Built for heads of state. But I didn’t care about its penthouse view or imported linens. Only that it had the best monitoring systems in the country. That the walls were soundproofed. That I could shut the world out.

I laid Isabella down on the precision-adjusted smart bed. Nurses moved fast, one applying oxygen, another hooking in the IV, another checking vitals. Her pulse still fluttered weakly under her wrist. Her breathing was shallow, but steady.

"Adrien," Dr. Kassel said as she entered, now fully suited up. "We’ll handle this. But I need five minutes. Let us stabilize her."

I stood back, jaw clenched, watching every wire, every beep, every flicker of movement from the screen above her head.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Finally, Kassel emerged, gloves off, hairline damp under her cap.

"She’s stable."

I didn’t relax. "Why isn’t she awake?"

"She took in a small amount of water," the doctor explained, walking me to the corner where the privacy glass had darkened. "And she hit her head—hard. Her brain is reacting to the trauma and to the fainting episode. Right now, her body is in protective shutdown mode."

"What caused it?" I asked, voice low.

Dr. Kassel didn’t flinch. "This can happen due to a sudden drop in blood pressure. Here’s why..."

She pulled out a tablet and showed me a medical diagram—blood vessels, the brain, the central nervous system.

"Heat-induced vasodilation," she explained. "Hot water causes the blood vessels to widen. That leads to a sudden drop in blood pressure. Combine that with the weightlessness of hydrotherapy and prolonged exposure, and it reduces blood flow to the brain—fast. That can cause fainting."

I stared at the monitor. Isabella’s heart rate beeped softly on screen. 68 bpm.

"There’s more," Kassel said gently. "Dehydration makes it worse. If she hadn’t had enough water before the session, the heat would’ve hit harder. Some people also have naturally low blood pressure—they may not even know it. When the body can’t compensate fast enough, it collapses. That’s what likely happened here."

I didn’t move. "But it wasn’t just fainting."

"No." Kassel’s voice was grim. "She hit her head. That’s the bigger concern. We’ve done a CT. No skull fracture. No bleeding in the brain. But a concussion this severe, paired with hypoxia from water inhalation—it’s going to take time."

"How long?" I asked.

"Anywhere from a few hours to... days. She’s in what we call a post-traumatic unconscious state. Her brain is protecting itself. Think of it like a system reboot. The best thing we can do now is monitor swelling, keep her oxygen up, and wait."

Wait.

I could demolish entire companies in less time than it took to wait. I could make or unmake empires, bury people with one call.

But I couldn’t force her awake.

"What about a shallow water blackout?" I asked. "She was in a pool. Could she have blacked out underwater?"

Kassel nodded. "Possibly. If she held her breath without realizing it—especially after fainting—it can cause oxygen deprivation to the brain. We’re monitoring closely. Her blood gases are stabilizing."

I nodded slowly. "I want you on her case. Personally."

"You’ve got me," Kassel said. "24/7."

She left, and I turned back to the bed.

Isabella was still as stone. Her lips slightly parted. Tubes and wires ran along her arms and chest. A monitor beeped steadily behind her.

I sank into the armchair beside her, suit still damp from carrying her through the chaos. My hand found hers, cold and limp.

"This is never happening again," I whispered.

*****

I hadn’t moved from her side.

The sterile smell of antiseptic clung to the room. Her monitors beeped steadily, but every single sound grated against my skull like broken glass.

Isabella still hadn’t woken up.

I stared at her bandaged forehead, her lashes resting against pale skin, and wondered how the hell I was supposed to sit still.

The door clicked shut behind Gray.

He stood stiff near the corner of the room, his hands behind his back like a soldier reporting to his general.

I didn’t look at him at first.

I sat at Isabella’s side, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. Her skin was still pale. Her knuckles cool. Every second that passed without her opening her eyes added another crack to something inside me I didn’t know could break.

Then I spoke.

Voice low. Controlled.

"Where were you?"

Gray swallowed hard. "Outside. I stayed in the car, like usual."

"Like usual?" My voice sharpened. "She almost died. You were outside?"

His silence was louder than any excuse.

I finally looked at him.

And I stood.

"You remember what happened on the street," I said, pacing toward him. "The near-accident. The one her brother had to pull her from."

"Yes, sir."

"And what did I say to you afterward?"

"You said she wasn’t to walk alone again. You said to stay on her quietly."

"And where in that instruction did you hear the word ’outside’?" I moved closer, invading his space, forcing him to meet my gaze. "Where did it say ’wait in the fucking car’?"

Gray’s jaw worked, but no words came out. He was a professional, trained to be stoic, but I could see the flicker of stark fear in his eyes.

"Sir... with all due respect, that was a women-only spa. Your mother was in there. Your woman was in there. I didn’t think you wanted me seeing—skin."

"And because of that... she almost died."

Gray stiffened. "Adrien—"

Before he could finish, I slammed my hand against the wall behind him—right next to his head.

The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot.

He tensed but didn’t step back.

I didn’t move the hand.

"Let me make one thing clear," I said, voice low and lethal. "She has a head wound. A concussion. Her blood is on the floor in there. She hasn’t opened her eyes in hours. And you didn’t go in because of modesty?"

Gray stayed silent.

That was his second mistake.

I grabbed his neck, my fingers locking around his windpipe. Not hard enough to cut off his air entirely, but enough to make him visibly gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His eyes, usually sharp and unreadable, widened with a clear, primal fear.

"You were supposed to be her shadow," I growled, voice dangerously calm. "And instead, you stood outside like a goddamn statue while someone hurt her. If she dies, Gray..."

My grip tightened around his neck.

"If she dies, they won’t even find enough of you to bury."

Blood pounded in my ears. I didn’t hear the machines or anything but the roar of fury under my skin.

If Isabella hadn’t been in that bed, I might’ve broken something else. Bone. Spine. I wasn’t particular.

"I should spill your blood on this floor and call it even," I said through clenched teeth.

He should be grateful we are in her room. That was the only reason I didn’t crack his jaw.

Finally, I shoved him back, releasing his throat. He stumbled, catching himself against the wall he’d been pinned to, rubbing his neck instinctively. The crimson marks of my fingers were already blooming on his skin.

Gray straightened his suit collar. "Someone tampered with the settings."

"Hmm."

"Pressure levels were changed mid-session. Logs were wiped."

My voice dropped. "The spa has a backup server."

"They do," Gray said. "Manufacturer keeps shadow data. I’ve already looped one of my men in—he’s pulling from the source now."

"How long until you have that data?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, yet it filled the silent room with an invisible menace.

"Within the hour, sir. My man is fast. He’ll send it directly to your encrypted line. He’s also looking for any remote access logs, any IP addresses that weren’t authorized."

"Good." My mind was already racing, connecting dots. Who knew she was there?

My focus returned to the bed. To her. freewēbnoveℓ.com

"Then tell me how three ambulances rerouted."

"I’m looking into it now."

"No. You find out. Who called them. Who redirected them. Trace the calls. Pull the traffic footage. Cross-check every spa employee against Walton security records. I want names. I want surveillance. Also tell Cameron I said the spa should be locked down," I finished, my gaze still fixed on Isabella. "No one in, no one out. Every employee’s phone seized. Every client’s appointment cancelled. And I want the entire place swept for bugs. Every single inch."

Gray nodded, the crimson marks on his neck stark against his pallor. "Consider it done, sir. Cameron’s on it." He paused, then added, his voice strained, "My apologies, Adrien. It won’t happen again."

"Sorrow won’t wake her up," I said, dismissing him with a wave of my hand. "Results will."

He slipped out of the room, the door clicking shut with a heavy finality.

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