Alexander fought with all the strengths he had left.

His body was failing him-limbs heavy, muscles unresponsive, vision swaying like smoke through water. The drug Summer had slipped into his drink was working fast, dulling his strength and clouding his mind. Every breath dragged through him like a slow suffocation.

But Alexander Wellington was not the kind of man to surrender easily. Not to her. Not like this.

"Summer, stop..." His voice cracked, rough and low. The words came out slurred, his tongue thick and dry.

Summer only smiled-slow, deliberate, predatory. Her breath was warm against his cheek as she leaned in close.

"Don't fight it, Alexander," she whispered, her tone soft enough to almost sound tender. "You'll see soon enough. I'm the only one for you."

Her words slid into his ears like poison disguised as sweetness.

His pulse pounded painfully in his temples. He could see her eyes-bright, glassy, desperate. This wasn't love. It was an obsession dressed in silk.

"Stop," he forced out, his voice trembling under the weight of the drug. "I'll-never-betray... Kimberly."

The name hit her like a slap.

Her expression cracked for a second-hurt, then fury.

"Then you'll remember her," she hissed, eyes darkening. "When she walks away from you."

-

Laughter filled Alexander's penthouse, the penthouse is across Wellington's hotel. Kimberly was having her bridal shower there. The sound of champagne, silk dresses, and unguarded joy.

She sat among her bridesmaids, surrounded by champagne flutes, silk ribbons, and talk of honeymoons and wedding dresses. She smiled and laughed as they chatted about honeymoon destinations and floral arrangements. Her phone buzzed insistently.

A message flashed across the screen:

"Alexander doesn't feel well. Bring medicine to his suite. Hurry."

Her heart tightened.

He wasn't feeling well? He'd seemed fine only a few hours ago.

She rose from her seat so abruptly her chair scraped the floor.

"Everything okay?" Sharon asked, brow lifted.

"Alex needs me," Kimberly murmured. Do you want me to come with you? Sharon asked.

"No, it's across the building,I will be back shortly" Kimberly replied, already halfway to the door.

Inside the elevator, her thoughts spun faster than the ascending numbers. What if he fainted? Why didn't anyone call me earlier? Why isn't Brian answering my calls?

When the doors slid open, she ran.

Her heels clattered down the marble hallway, the numbers on each door blurring past until she reached 1207.

Her heart was beating too fast.

She didn't knock. She turned the handle-and froze.

---

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Alexander was on the bed. His shirt undone, his body trembling and tense. And on top of him-Summer.

Her golden hair spilled across his bare chest. Her hands pressed against his shoulders. Her lips were curved into something between satisfaction and mock guilt.

The scene was damning.

Kimberly's voice came out small, cracked, fragile. "Alexander?"

His eyes flew open-wild, panicked. "Kimberly-no-it's not-what it looks like-"

His voice slurred, his movements sluggish, but she barely heard him. The sound in her ears was deafening. Her own heartbeat thundered, her mind refusing to understand what her eyes saw.

Tears blurred her vision. Her breath came in short, broken gasps.

She wanted to scream, to demand an explanation but her voice wouldn't obey.

Her lips trembled. "How could you..."

Summer turned her head, meeting Kimberly's eyes with a glint of quiet triumph.

That look shattered something inside her.

Kimberly's chest heaved. The air itself felt sharp, cutting through her lungs. "I loved you," she whispered, the words raw and trembling.

Then she turned and ran.

The slam of the door echoed like a gunshot.

---

Inside, Alexander lay there, chest burning with rage and despair. His mind screamed at his body to move.

He forced himself upright, the world tilting around him. Summer reached for him again, her voice shaking. "Don't-don't fight me!"

He shoved her away with his might.She stumbled, falling to the floor, disbelief and fear flashing across her perfect face.

Alexander staggered to his feet, every muscle shaking with exhaustion. He reached the door and slammed it shut behind her, locking himself in with his wrecked reality.

"Kimberly..." The name escaped his lips like a broken prayer.

His vision dimmed. He saw only flashes-her tears, her face, her heartbreak.

He tried to move again, but the room spun violently. His knees hit the floor. The drug was winning. His body was giving up.

The world tilted once more.

And then-nothing.

Alexander Wellington collapsed, unconscious.

Kimberly ran.

Her heels clattered against the marble floors of the hotel corridor, each step echoing like a hammer inside her skull. Her lungs burned, her breath came out ragged and uneven, but she didn't stop.

Alexander's voice still rang behind her,hoarse, desperate and pleading but it no longer sounded like the man she loved. To her ears, it wasn't an explanation. It was betrayal.

Her reflection flashed across the elevator doors as they slid shut, trapping her inside the mirrored walls. The woman staring back looked like a stranger-eyes swollen, lipstick smudged, tears cutting paths through her foundation.

She whispered to her reflection, voice trembling, "What did I do wrong?"

The elevator hummed downward, every floor feeling like a lifetime. By the time the doors opened, she was barely holding herself upright.

The hotel lobby sparkled around her, chandeliers dripping gold light across the marble floor. People laughed softly, staff moved elegantly, everything was still painfully normal.

Kimberly's world, however, had already collapsed.

She pushed through the revolving doors and stumbled into the night.

The cold air hit her face but it didn't soothe her. It couldn't. She was burning inside, every heartbeat fanning the flames of disbelief and heartbreak.

Her sobs broke free, raw and unrestrained, echoing off the empty street.

"Why?" she whispered to the night. "Why would you do this to me?"

She tried to breathe, but her chest refused to obey. Every inhale scraped her throat like glass. Her hands trembled as she clutched her coat tighter, as though holding herself together by force.

Her mind wouldn't stop replaying it,Summer on top of him,his lips forming words she could no longer hear. No, it's not what it looks like. Lies, she told herself. All of it lies.

He promised me forever.

Her legs weakened. The streetlights blurred through her tears.

"I loved you," she whispered again, the words barely sound.

The city swirled around her,neon headlights, laughter from somewhere distant but none of it reached her. It all blurred into meaningless color. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering even though the night was warm.

Then came the glare of headlights.

Too close. Too fast.

She froze, caught in the blinding light. Her mind screamed for her to move, but her body refused.

The screech of tires tore through the night.

And then-impact.

The sound was deafening. Glass exploded. Her body lifted and hit the ground with a force that ripped the air from her lungs. Shards scattered across the pavement, glittering cruelly under the streetlights. Pain tore through her limbs-hot, unbearable, consuming.

For one suspended moment, she saw the sky-a wash of black and gold and thought of Alexander's eyes, the way they used to soften when he said her name.

Then everything went dark.

The car sped away, its red taillights shrinking into nothing, swallowed by the night.

The street fell silent except for the faint hum of the wind.

Moments later, another vehicle screeched to a halt.

A man and his driver rushed out, his breath catching at the sight before him. He pulled out his phone and dialed 911,shouting into it. "My God! Somebody help! Call an ambulance!"

He dropped to his knees beside her, pressing his hands against her wounds, trying to stop the bleeding. His voice shook but his words came strong, determined.

"Stay with me. Please... don't give up now."

Kimberly's lashes fluttered weakly. Her lips parted, a small, broken sound escaping. She tried to form words, but none came. Her hand twitched once against the cold pavement before falling still.

Sirens wailed in the distance, faint at first, then growing louder. But her world was fading, slipping through her fingers like sand.

---

Across town, Summer sat cross-legged on her bed, a glass of wine balanced between her fingers.

The suite was dim, candles flickering lazily against the walls. She leaned back against the bed, the corners of her lips lifting slightly as she stared at nothing in particular.

She replayed the image again and again.Kimberly's face when she opened that door. The shock, the disbelief, the devastation. It had been... perfect.

She whispered to herself, almost dreamily, "Now she knows how it feels again."

Her golden hair tumbled over her shoulder as she moved toward the mirror. She swirled the wine slowly, humming under her breath. But when her eyes met her reflection, something flickered.

The smile faded.

Because one truth refused to die quietly.

Alexander had resisted her.

Even drugged, even trapped,he hadn't yielded. His arms trembled as he pushed her away. His voice, weak and cracked, had still managed to form Kimberly's name.

That memory burned her.

Her fingers tightened around the glass until her knuckles whitened. "He still wanted her," she whispered, the words trembling with anger.

Her reflection stared back, mocking her with cold clarity.

"Why her?" she breathed.

Her nails dug into her palms until tiny crescents of blood appeared.

The glass slipped slightly in her hand, trembling as she clenched her jaw.

She had broken Kimberly's heart-yes. But victory tasted nothing like she'd imagined.

And with each breath she took, that envy deepened into something darker,an ache that no triumph could ease.

The ambulance screeched into Mercy Hospital, its siren fading into the night.

Under the harsh glow of the entrance lights, nurses and doctors stood ready - hands gloved, faces tense. The stretcher rolled out fast, wheels clattering against concrete, voices rising over one another as they rushed Kimberly inside.

Inside the hospital, the air felt cold, sterile, and restless. Shoes squeaked across polished floors. The sharp tang of antiseptic burned the back of Mr. Donald's throat as he followed the sound of hurried footsteps until he could go no further.

They pushed her into the operating room. The doors swung shut with a final metallic thud, leaving him outside with nothing but the red glow of the IN OPERATION sign.

He sat down heavily on a hard plastic chair. His shoulders sagged; his hands locked together so tightly the veins stood out against his skin.

The faint scent of lilies lingered on his jacket - soft, oddly out of place in this place of steel and disinfectant. He had carried them earlier that evening to the cemetery, to the two graves he visited every year.

His wife. His daughter.

Now he sat here, whispering again, but not to them.

This time, to God.

Through the thin wall came the muffled chorus of the operating team - firm, steady voices giving orders.

"Clamp. Suction. Hold pressure... steady."

Each word cut through him. Somewhere beyond that door, a young woman's life teetered on the edge, and there was nothing he could do to help.

He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, voice raw and low.

"If I couldn't save my wife and daughter..... I have to save this girl. I have to."

---

Five years ago, on this same date, he had lost everything.

He still remembered the phone call that had split his life clean in two. A truck. A wet road. A car that never made it home.

He'd been hundreds of miles away in another city, sealing a business deal.

By the time he got to the hospital, the corridors had smelled just like this - cold, clean, merciless.

He never got to say goodbye.

Never even held their hands one last time.

Since then, guilt has become a quiet companion. It lived with him in every breath, in every lonely evening, in every anniversary where he laid lilies on the graves and whispered, "I'm sorry. I should've been there."

Tonight was supposed to be another visit - another quiet apology whispered to the dead.

Until he saw her.

A girl lying on the road, blood matting her dark hair, her clothes soaked with blood.Something in him froze at that sight - not fear, not pity, but recognition.

She looked so young,like Angel,his late daughter.

And now, as he sat staring at the theater door, that same ache clawed its way back through his chest. But this time, he refused to let it drown him.

"I lost them," he whispered hoarsely, his voice shaking. "But I won't lose her. Not tonight. Not on their anniversary."

---

Time dragged mercilessly.

Minutes stretched into hours. Every sound grew louder, the ticking clock, the buzz of overhead lights, the muffled footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Donald tried to sit still, but his body wouldn't let him. He stood, paced and sat again. Every time the door creaked open, his heart surged then sank when it wasn't the doctor.

He had almost given up when finally, the operating doors burst open.

A doctor stepped out, mask dangling at his neck, eyes tired but calm.

"Sir?"

Donald was on his feet before he even realized. "Yes-yes, I'm here. How is she?"

The doctor's voice softened. "She's stable. It was close, but she's alive."

For a moment, Donald just stared, unable to breathe. "She's... alive?"

"She is," the doctor repeated with a faint smile. "We'll move her to the recovery ward soon. You can stay with her once she's settled."

The relief that washed through him.He had to grip the back of the chair to steady himself.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you, doctor."

For the first time in years, something in his chest loosened.

A tiny thread of hope stitched itself back together where there had only been emptiness before.

---

When they wheeled Kimberly out of surgery, she looked impossibly small under the white sheets.

Her face was pale, framed by bandages that wrapped around her head. Only her lips and the curve of her jaw were visible.

Donald followed closely as the nurses guided the stretcher down the hallway.

"We'll monitor her through the night," one nurse said gently. "She should regain consciousness before dawn.

He nodded.

When they reached the ward, he pulled the chair close to her bedside and sat. The room was dim except for the rhythmic blink of the monitors and the steady hum of the IV pump.

Each small sound felt sacred - proof that she was still here, still fighting.

He studied her face in silence. "Don't you dare give up now," he murmured softly. "You hear me? You'll live. You have to. I couldn't save them, but I'll save you.

He swallowed hard, his voice trembling with a kind of desperate tenderness.

"I don't even know your name...when you wake up, you'll tell me everything. And I'll find whoever did this to you. That driver - he won't just disappear into the dark. He'll pay. People like that shouldn't walk free."

His fingers hovered near her hand, hesitant, then brushed against it.

This wasn't charity but something deeper - redemption.

For once, fate had placed someone before him to protect, and he wasn't going to fail again.

Outside, the rain began - soft, steady, unrelenting. It tapped against the windowpane like a heartbeat, matching the rhythm of the monitor beside her bed.

Donald leaned back, exhaustion creeping through him.

And as the rain whispered its endless song and the machines kept time with her fragile breath, the man who had buried his entire world sat beside a stranger he had already vowed to save.