At the hospital, Rafael lay unconscious in the ICU. His body was pale, weakened by severe blood loss. The medical team moved with urgency, carefully extracting the bullets lodged deep in his body.
Back at the wedding venue, Adam stood amid the wreckage. His stomach dropped as he took in the chaos. Without hesitation, he called for ambulances and helped rush Rafael and the others to the nearest hospital.
Later, at the hospital, Alex approached the doctor, his face tense with worry.
"How is Rafael?" he asked, voice low and tight.
The doctor gave him a tired look, cautious but trying to give hope.
"I can't say anything right now. But let's not give up hope."
He gave Alex a brief nod and walked off to check on other patients.
Freddie arrived, his hand wrapped in a bloodied bandage. He came straight to Alex.
"Sir, we need to go now. They released Sir Ken; his family is also here."
Alex closed his eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply, and gave a slow nod.
"Alright," he said quietly.
They left the hospital together... grief thick in the air... headed for the graveyard, carrying Ken's body and the sorrow of everything lost.
The graveyard was filled with a somber silence. A line of police officers stood together, each carrying the heavy weight of grief for their fallen comrade, Ken. His death left a void that no one could fill... a painful reminder of the risks they all faced in uniform.
Robert, Adam, Freddie, and the rest of the force gathered to honor him. Only Peter, and the critically injured Rafael, were absent.
Ken's absence echoed through their ranks like a deep scar. No words could ease the ache or erase the image of their friend now buried beneath the earth.
And Hazel... the girl who could've helped unravel it all... was gone. Disappeared from the church in the chaos. Vanished.
Standing near Ken's grave, Alex turned to Adam. His voice was low and steady.
"Did you find any suspicious things around his house?" He meant Francisco, the man he believed was pulling the strings behind this disaster.
Adam shook his head, "Still not. Also, on the wedding day, he had a party. He planned everything so well from the beginning, sir."
Alex looked down at the fresh grave, lips pressed in a grim line.
"We have to find Hazel," he said finally. "No matter what it takes."
Elsewhere, under bright lights and music, Francisco played his role perfectly... an invited guest at a public event, calm and composed. Emily, glowing in the spotlight, was the star of the show.
After the performance, she hugged Francisco, holding onto the illusion of romance for the cameras. Flashbulbs flickered. Emily smiled, her arm looped tightly through his.
Francisco remained expressionless, the same cool mask he always wore.
A reporter approached, eager and opportunistic. "Mr. Francisco, are you and Ms. Emily seriously dating?"
Francisco glanced at him, amused.
"Do you think we're dating?"
The reporter hesitated, then replied, "I don't think anything, sir. But rumors suggest you guys have been together for almost two years."
Public interest in Francisco's personal life had always been intense.
Francisco shrugged, cool and dismissive.
"If it is, then you guys also spot me at parties with different girls every time."
"Does that mean I am dating them?"
The reporter stumbled, trying to recover. "No, not really, but with you, Ms. Emily is often seen a lot of times."
Before things could escalate, Emily stepped in with a practiced smile.
"Mr., we will announce it when the time comes."
She knew exactly how to steer attention... how to keep her name untarnished and her bond with Francisco intact. She dreamed of a future with him. The last thing she needed was scandal.
Smiling for the cameras, Emily leaned in close to Francisco, seizing the moment for another photo. Flashbulbs flickered around them. In the midst of it, she whispered softly, her lips barely moving.
"Babe, can I come with you tonight?"
Francisco didn't hesitate. "No."
Emily held her smile, trying to mask the sting of rejection.
"Why? Are you busy?" she murmured, her voice low, searching his face for something—anything.
Francisco gave her a cryptic smile. His hand slid to her hip, his touch possessive but distant.
"Emily, you're not only my girl. I have thousands like you. But that doesn't mean you're my girlfriend, right?"
The words hit her like a slap... sharp, casual, cruel.
Emily's expression faltered. Her face lost color, the edges of her smile twitching. She looked up at him, trying to hold her ground.
"Maybe I have something inside me. That's why you haven't thrown me away."
Their eyes locked, tension simmering beneath the polished surface. Around them, cameras kept snapping, capturing the illusion of perfection... two lovers in sync.
Francisco leaned in, his smile still fixed but colder now.
"Then don't forget your position."
Emily's smile returned, faint but steady. She knew it wasn't real, but neither was this world. So she played her part, keeping the cracks beneath the surface hidden from the crowd.
In the dimly lit room, Hazel lay on the couch, her eyes fixed blankly on the television. Her body was still, her face void of expression... like a shadow of herself.
The TV flickered with the glow of a glamorous fashion show. Models strutted across the screen, lights flashing, music pulsing.
And there, right in the center of it all... Francisco. Emily stood at his side, beaming, clinging to him like they were the perfect couple.
Beside the couch, Lily stood silently, watching Hazel with growing concern. She noticed the emptiness in her gaze and leaned slightly toward her.
"Ms. Hazel, should I change the channel?" she asked gently.
No reply.
Hazel didn't flinch, didn't blink. It was like her mind had shut off, her ears closed to everything around her.
Lily hesitated, unsure. Then, quietly, she stepped back and began pulling the curtains closed, dimming the light until the room was wrapped in soft shadows.
As Lily moved, Hazel's mind stirred.
'Is this my end?'
'Is this how I am going to end?'
Her gaze drifted to Lily, still busy with the curtains.
'I have not seen any phones or mobile here.'
'How can I send any messages to others?'
Francisco had taken her far from the city—hidden her away like a secret.
'She obviously talked with him, giving him every update about me.'
'Then she must have a phone.'
Hope flickered.
Slowly, cautiously, Hazel rose from the couch. Her bare feet touched the cold floor. She walked toward Lily.
As Hazel slowly extended her hand toward Lily's neck, Francisco's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Are you okay now?"
Hazel froze, her hand dropping instantly. A jolt of shock surged through her, tightening in her chest.
She turned sharply. Lily did the same.
Hazel's face turned pale. Her eyes locked on Francisco, wide with disbelief.
Lily quickly curtsied. "Master, good evening."
Francisco gave her a nod and handed her the coat she had been waiting for. Without a word, Lily took it and slipped out of the room, leaving Hazel alone with him.
Francisco loosened his tie as he stepped closer. The room filled with his scent... sweet, thick, intoxicating.
"Is it hurting?"
Hazel's brows lifted in disbelief at his nerve. She stepped back, but his arms caged her in... one hand on either side of her, pressed against the wall.
Her eyes met his.
"Don't you know what you should or should not ask the one you raped?" she said sharply.
Francisco's lips tightened. He exhaled deeply, but said nothing.
Hazel turned her head away, her jaw clenched. She refused to let herself drown in that scent or fall under the weight of his presence.
His fingers moved to her hair, brushing against it. Hazel flinched, eyebrows twitching. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block him out.
"Let's eat together," Francisco said, voice calm... too calm.
"I don't want to eat with you," Hazel replied, sharp and clear.
Francisco tilted his head slightly. "Don't you want to talk to your parents?"
Hazel's eyes snapped to his.
"Can I?" she asked.
"Of course, you will," he said, his smile soft, almost innocent.
But Hazel knew better. Behind that angelic smile lived the devil himself.