I tossed my phone across the waiting area of the hospital.
I cried into my hands, "She's alive." "She's not going to wake up, but she's alive."
Kieran took the hard plastic chair next to me. It had been six hours since he left my side. Not since Sophie was hauled out of the river by the doctors.
He said softly, "The doctor said she's stable."
I used a tissue to wipe my eyes and said, "Stable doesn't mean awake." "What if I lose her before I even get to know her? What if she never wakes up?"
From the other side of the floor, where it had fallen, my phone buzzed. Kieran stood up and returned it to me.
He looked at the screen and said, "It's your lawyer."
I was unwilling to respond. James would simply remind me of my debt. The deadline was rapidly approaching. But I was powerless.
"Hello, James."
"Where are you, Isabella? The bank called three times today."
"My sister was in an accident, and I'm at the hospital."
James sounded perplexed, asking, "Sister? What sister?" "Never mind. Listen, you have four days left. You have four days to get the money or you're going to lose everything."
I felt sick to my stomach. The deadline had slipped my mind. "I can't think about this right now, James."
"The Morrison Project is your only chance, so you need to consider it."
I gave Kieran a look. I could tell he heard everything, even though he was acting as though he wasn't listening.
I muttered into the phone, "I'll give you a call back."
"Don't hang up, Isabella. We have to..."
I hung up and looked at the ground. Four days. Sophie was unconscious down the hall, so how could I do anything?
"You're concerned about the contract," Kieran remarked.
It wasn't a query. He had heard enough to comprehend.
"You think I care about money when my sister is dying?"
"Yes, I believe you care about money because without it, you will lose your business and be unable to assist Sophie when she awakens." "Your sister is not dying."
I detested the fact that he was correct.
I said, "I can't work with you." "Not like this. Not now."
"You have no other option."
"Everyone has options."
"Do you? Because from where I'm sitting, you're trapped. Your business is failing. Your sister is unconscious. And you're too proud to accept help," Kieran said, turning in his chair to face me.
"I don't require assistance."
"Everyone requires assistance from time to time."
Footsteps reverberated down the hallway before I could respond. A tall, well-dressed man approached us. I knew him from pictures in the papers.
Hawthorne, Richard. Kieran's dad.
My entire body became tense. My family had been ruined by this man. The adversary I had detested all my life.
"Isabella," he said, nodding slightly.
I hurried to my feet. "Mr. Hawthorne."
"How is your sister doing?"
I was taken aback by the question: "She's... stable."
"Good." He appeared sincere in his relief. "When I learned about the accident, I became concerned."
"You were concerned? About my sister?"
Richard's expression softened. "Of course. She's a lovely girl. Very intelligent. Very compassionate."
I gazed at him. This was not the monster I had thought of. He appeared to be... typical. even showing concern.
"Dad," Kieran said, getting to his feet. "What are you doing here?"
Richard pointed down the corridor and said, "We need to talk. All of us." "We can use the family meeting room."
"I'm not leaving Sophie," I blurted out.
"This won't take long, and the nurses will call if anything changes."
I was uneasy about something in his voice. As if he were going to blow my life away.
We made our way to a tiny space with chairs and a table. Richard locked the door after us.
I questioned, "Why are you locking the door?"
"Because you can't leave this room because of what I'm about to tell."
Kieran scowled. "What's going on, Dad?"
Richard took a deep seat. All of a sudden, he appeared much older than fifty.
"The feud between our families," he said slowly at first. "It's not what you think, Isabella."
"What do you mean?"
"Your father didn't attempt to take our customers."
There was silence in the room. In my ears, I could hear my heartbeat.
I muttered, "But you showed me the evidence." "The documents. The emails."
"Fake," Richard said bluntly.
"What?" Kieran leaped from his seat. "You told me those were real, Dad."
"To both of you, I lied."
My legs were weak. Before I fell, I took a seat. "Why would you lie about my father?"
Richard rubbed his hands over his face. "Because the truth is worse."
"Worse how?"
"Your father found out something about our business that could have led to our demise."
"What kind of something?"
"We were selling defective products. Products that could hurt people. Your father found out and threatened to go to the police," Richard said, turning from Kieran to me.
Kieran's face turned pale. "You're lying."
"Son, I wish I was."
"So you killed my father?" I asked, getting up so quickly that my chair toppled over.
Richard held up his hands and said, "No!" "No, Isabella. Nobody was killed."
"Then what happened?"
"We agreed to help him expand his business in exchange for him keeping quiet about the defective products, fixing everything, and never selling dangerous products again."
I gazed at him. "You and my father struck a deal?"
"Yes, but someone else discovered the arrangement and intended to harm both of our families."
"Who?"
"I'm not sure. They sent the fabricated evidence to the newspapers, making it appear as though we were the victims and your father was a thief and a liar."
My mind was racing. "You gave everyone the impression that my father was a criminal when in fact he was attempting to assist others."
"I was scared," Richard muttered. "Everything my family built could have been destroyed if the truth about the defective products had been revealed. People could have died."
"So instead you destroyed my family."
"I made everything worse, even though I tried to protect everyone."
Kieran took a firm seat in his chair. "How could you do this, Dad?"
Richard gazed sorrowfully at his son and said, "I was young. Stupid. Scared." "Since then, I've regretted it every day."
I thought I might get sick. "My father passed away believing that he was a failure and that everyone detested him."
"I apologize. I understand."
"Sorry doesn't bring him back."
Richard got up and said, "No, it doesn't." "But perhaps by cooperating now, we can pay tribute to his memory."
"Working together?"
"The Morrison Project. It's your father's project, Isabella, and it's not just any contract."
My heart stopped beating. "What?"
"Your father had plans, ideas, and a dream when he designed the Morrison Building before he passed away."
My eyes welled up with tears. "You're lying."
Richard took out a folder and set it down on the table. "Take a look for yourself."
I opened the folder with trembling hands. There were architectural drawings in there that my father had signed. Morrison Industries' letters complimenting his imaginative vision. Plans for the most exquisite structure I've ever seen.
Richard whispered, "He wanted to build something that would help people." "Beautiful but inexpensive to build, affordable housing for families in need."
"Why didn't he finish it?"
"Morrison Industries put the project on hold because he passed away before he could, but they now want to try again."
Through my tears, I examined the drawings. In the margins was my father's handwriting. In blue ink, he drew his dreams and hopes.
I muttered, "This is why you want me to work with you." "Because it's his project."
"Partially, but also because you have his talent, his vision, and his heart, and you are the only one who can complete what he began."
Kieran gently touched my hand as he reached across the table. "Isabella, your business connections and your creative abilities are essential to our success. Together, we can realize your father's dream."
His hand on mine caught my attention. Warm. powerful. secure.
I said, "I'm not sure if I can trust you."
"I don't know if you can either," Kieran admitted candidly. "But perhaps we can come to trust one another."
Richard's phone rang before I could pick it up. His face turned pale as he glanced at the caller ID.
"It's Morrison Industries," he declared.
He listened silently as he answered the phone. With every second that went by, his face darkened.
At last, he said, "I understand." "We'll be right there."
He hung up and gave us a terrified look.
Kieran inquired, "What's wrong?"
"A much higher offer has been made by someone else for the Morrison Project."
My heart fell. "So we lost it?"
"Not yet, but we need to persuade them to pick us over the competition. Morrison wants to meet with both companies tomorrow."
I said, "Who's the other company?"
Richard took a deep breath. "Chen Industries."
I looked at him bewildered. "That isn't feasible. After my father passed away, Chen Industries shut down."
"Apparently not," Richard remarked somberly. "Someone just came out of hiding after running it covertly for two years."
There was silence in the room.
"Dad," Kieran said slowly, "who has been managing Isabella's father's business?"
Richard gave me a look that might have been sympathy.
"Your sis
ter Sophie is going to try to take your father's last project away from you tomorrow. She has been using his business to compete against us for the past two years."