As the car drove through the winding road, her thoughts drifted back to the hospital. She hadn't seen the other girl who shared her fate, but somehow it felt as if she had left a piece of herself behind with her.
The jeep finally pulled up to a luxurious villa. Ella's breath caught in her throat. The estate was enormously grand, she thought, enough to house half of the city. The walls gleamed under the sunlight, the gardens were immaculate, and the air itself carried a soft, refreshing fragrance. She watched in awe from the car's window until the door opened again.
"Miss Ella Robinson," the butler repeated gently, bringing her back to reality. Though confusion filled her, a strange calm settled in her heart. Somehow she felt safe here.
The butler led her inside a well-prepared room. Moments later, the maid entered carrying trays of steaming hot food, filling the room with rich aromas. Ella hesitated at first, staring at the meals before her. She wanted to appear strong, but her hunger betrayed her. Soon, she was eating rapidly, unable to stop. The food tasted heavenly, the best she had ever had. When she finished, she sat back, embarrassed, her hand over her stomach. It had been a long time since she had eaten properly.
After the meal, she took a warm bath. There was already a change of clothes for her. The maid told her the clothes in the wardrobe were all hers. Ella gasped. Such fancy wears belonged to her. This has to be paradise, she muttered.
She laid down, her relaxed body against the soft sheets, her eyelids heavy, but her mind still awake. Through the silence, she heard a faint voice from behind the door, deep and commanding.
"Make sure she eats well," the voice said, "and ensure she is properly cared for. Ella has to rest."
She got up and tried to see who it was, but only caught a glimpse—a tall, retreating figure disappearing down the hallway. Her saviour? She didn't know his name or why he had helped her, but deep inside, she vowed she would find out.
Mr. Richard Wilton, known to the world as Dark Lord, is the heir of the Wilton's empire and the commanding CEO of both the Wilton Corporation and Wilton Oil. He sits in his high, black leather chair, its edge carved with the same precision as his life. Power bends around him when he moves. His gaze distanced, his focus completely off work, his thoughts revolving around Rose, the one woman whose beauty still lingered in his mind. He had heard of her accident.
Still, his expression remained unreadable. For him, business must never pause. Not for pain, not for love, not for debt. If a partner delays, he strikes them off without hesitation. In his dealings, he never lets personal affairs cloud his judgment. Corporations line up, desperate to secure a deal with him. Those who succeed are set for life. Those he cancels are erased from the business world entirely. This is why he is not merely a tycoon, but the Dark Lord. People say he leads the darker world. In layman's terms, he is like a mafia boss. His fighting skills, too, are unmeasured. He never worries. He makes other people worry.
But today, something was off. His face looked pale, his silence heavier than usual. Isaac Lewis, his loyal assistant, hesitated before breaking the tension.
"Sir, you look pale. What's troubling you?" Isaac Lewis asked.
The Dark Lord's cold gaze lifted. "I want every details on Rose Lucas' well-being and the accident to have be investigated thoroughly."
"Yes, sir," Isaac replied quietly. "Would you still like to take—"
"Enough!" the Dark Lord interrupted, his tone slicing through the air.
Loud voices echoed from downstairs. Rose, who sat chatting with her nanny, Nanny Pat, had been with her since she was a child. She considered Nanny Pat her mother figure.
"What's the ruckus about Nanny Pat…" Rose asked, trying to keep her voice steady, her head still tender from the accident.
"My lady," Nanny Pat replied softly, "Mr. and Mrs. Lucas are having a bit of a quarrel."
"Quarrel?" Rose's eyes widened. "I have never seen Daddy yell. What could have upset him so much to yell at home?"
She tried to stand, but her knees buckled beneath her. Nanny Pat rushed forward, catching her just in time to save her from a fall.
"My lady, please," the nanny pleaded, helping Rose to her feet. "You need to rest."
But Rose shook her head. "I just need to see what's happening." Leaning against the door frame for balance, she pushed the door open and stopped at the top of the stairs, gripping the rails for balance.
From below, her parents' voices carried through the grand hall.
"I told Camilla to handle the business proposal," her father, Mr. Martin, said sharply. "Why send Rose, and why did you let Camilla take Rose's place on the date? That wasn't my instruction. Would you ever let Rose have one thing she ever desired?" He yelled at his wife, Mrs. Isabella Lucas.
"Oh, for goodness' sake, Rose,Rose,Rose. What's so special about Rose? And my Camilla, doesn't she deserve a good man? You want to keep her busy with workload while Rose enjoys the fun of her life. So what if Rose went for the proposal and Camilla to the dinner? We didn't cause her to have an accident."
"Martin, stop accusing me of things I didn't do," said Mrs. Isabella Lucas.
Mr. Lucas' voice dropped lower and more dangerous. "I swear If I find out you had anything to do with the crash—" He paused as his phone rang, then walked away.
Rose stood in disarray. Their voices trailed off as they moved from the living room, but the words stayed echoing in her mind. Why would father suspect mother? she thought, her stomach twisting. Could mother have really done something to hurt me?
She froze, recalling the events while in coma: flashes of headlights and muffled voices. Why did Mum send Camilla to replace me on the date Dad had arranged for me? The effort made her head pound. She felt dizzy and blacked out.
When she opened her eyes, she was back in bed.
Her father sat next to her, eyes weary but full of relief.