The moment they arrived at the hospital, Alex parked roughly.
“Alex, wait—” Maria’s seatbelt clicked too late.
She braced against the dashboard as the car jerked.
He was already out, leaving the door wide open.
Alex rushed to find his father.
Maria was trying to calm herself down because the ride to the hospital was terrifying.
She prayed.
Every second counted until they got to the hospital.
The way Alex was driving almost got her killed, but she quietly stayed by his side.
There was no point arguing, no point questioning him.
Not now.
Not when fear had completely taken over him.
She called the hospital guard to help her park the car properly and, after thanking the guard with a little money which the guard politely refused, she quickly went after Alex.
Inside, the hospital smelled sterile, a mix of antiseptic and something cold and distant.
The floors were spotless, the lights too bright, and the air carried the quiet urgency of life and death decisions happening every second.
Alex rushed in and grabbed a nearby nurse.
“Please, where’s my father?
Where’s the man that just got admitted here?”
“It is…
Room Twenty-Three.”
Then he rushed forward, Maria following behind.
When he arrived, he wasn’t allowed to enter.
A nurse stepped in front of the door, her expression firm but not unkind, stopping him with a raised hand.
For a brief second, it looked like Alex might push past her, his frustration flashing across his face.
His jaw tightened.
His fists clenched.
“Move.” Alex’s voice was low and dangerous.
“Sir, I can’t—”
“I’m his son.” He stepped closer, and the nurse flinched.
“Do you want me to break this door down?”
“Alex.” Maria touched his arm.
Just two fingers.
He stopped breathing for a second, then exhaled.
“Please.
Don’t.”
He stepped back and waited.
After a while, the doctor came out and said, “Are you Alex Richardson?”
He said, “Yes.”
“Okay.
The patient is stabilized now.
Go in.
He wants to speak with you.”
“Okay.”
Maria tried to follow, but had to stay out because his father only wanted to speak with Alex.
She didn’t argue.
Instead, she stepped back slowly, her hands clasping together tightly in front of her.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the closed door, as if she could somehow see through it.
Maria stayed by the door, even though the nurse shut it.
She pressed her palm to the wood.
_If I’d made him slow down, would we be too late?_
_Please, Lord, let nothing happen to him.
I can’t bear to see Alex in pain,_ Maria prayed silently, eyes closed.
Alex went in and saw his father, supported by machines and tubes.
The room was dimmer than the hallway, quieter, filled with the steady rhythm of machines working to keep a life going.
The sight hit him harder than he expected.
His father—strong, composed, always in control.
He could remember that even after he lost his wife, he wasn’t weak or bad—now lay there, fragile, pale, almost unrecognizable beneath the wires and tubes.
He rushed forward and grabbed his father’s hand — the one that used to grip him tight whenever he messed up, the one that would pat him gently whenever he was proud of him.
Now it was cold and pale.
“God, what happened to you?”
“Son,” his father said gently, “I think you have to start getting stronger now.
I thought if you didn’t inherit the family fortune, they’d let you be.
But now they have struck.” He spoke with so much pain, like he wanted to tear up.
“What?
How did they know?”
“Like I said, someone is in the house.
And that person would have already informed them.” He coughed, wincing.
“Oh, Father, what are we supposed to do?”
“What I want to tell you now is that I might not have time left.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“What I’m trying to say is—do what’s needful.
Protect yourself.
And the one you love.”
“Father, what are you saying?
You’re not going to leave me in this mess.
Do you hear me?
I can’t—how can I?”
His voice rose, desperation spilling out as he struggled to accept what he was hearing, but his father cut in,
“They are not going to be merciful.
So you too shouldn’t be merciful to them either.”
“Father!”
“Take care of yourself.
And protect her.
Don’t let what happened to your mother happen to her also.
So, son, be strong.”
And with that, his father started coughing violently.
The machines went wild, beeping quickly.
The monitor slipped into one long, flat line.
Alex shouted, “Doctor!
Doctor!
Come in!
Something’s wrong with my dad!” His emotions were all over the place.
He lost his composure and he didn’t care because his father must stay alive.
The doctor and his attendants rushed in and tried to stabilize the machines.
Hands moved quickly, pressing buttons, adjusting tubes, issuing rapid instructions.
Alex stood there, frozen for a moment, before backing away slowly, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
He finally went out.
Maria rushed forward and said, “What did your father say?
What happened?”
“I don’t know.
He’s in danger.
He spoke like someone that is about to die.”
“No.
He won’t die.”
” I believe he won’t.”
They both clung to that fragile hope, even as fear lingered beneath it.
Time stretched.
Every second felt longer than the last.
Then the beeping stopped.
The doctor surrendered.
He told the other attendants to cover him up, then came out.
“Mister Alex, I’m sorry to say—”
“Say what?”
“He’s gone.”
Everything went dead.
“He is gone.
Like that.”
“Yes, he is.” And the doctor left.
The words didn’t feel real.
They echoed in Alex’s mind, repeating over and over, refusing to settle.
Maria’s hand slowly slipped from his arm.
“Alex—”
“Don’t.” He wasn’t looking at her.
He was looking at the floor, at nothing.
“If you touch me right now…
I’ll shatter.”
Her hand dropped.
She understood.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Then I’ll stand here.
Until you don’t.”
Silence surrounded them, heavy and suffocating.
Meanwhile, there was a mysterious figure at the corner of the hospital, watching everything.
When he heard the words “He’s gone,” the figure pulled out a phone and texted one word.
Done.
Then he turned and disappeared into the darkness.