Chapter 4
Three days
It had been three days since the accident.
Elara sat in the hospital reception, her eyes hollow from exhaustion. She had been there for two days straight. She had cried more than she thought was possible; her tears had run dry, leaving only a beating heart and a numb mind behind.
The night the news broke, Noah had found her on the floor of her living room, unconscious. He'd rushed her to a nearby hospital. She woke up wanting only one thing: her family. She'd fled the ward like a madwoman, dragging Noah to the hospital where her family was admitted.
She only had the strength to see her brother. Her mother was placed in another room.
When she entered the room, her knees gave way. Her brother lay still on the bed — a bandage wrapped gently around his head, wires and tubes connecting him to machines that beeped quietly beside him. The doctor had said he'd sustained a traumatic brain injury and was in a medically induced coma to help his brain rest. His skin was pale, his breathing soft but steady with the help of an oxygen tube.
Her father, however, hadn't made it. The news shattered what little strength she had left, turning her world into something cold and unfamiliar. Elara could barely process the words. The sight tore a raw, animal scream from her throat. People were talking, their words muffled and distorted, but she couldn't register anything.
The doctors' words barely made sense to her, only one thing stuck:
"We can save your brother and mother, but it's going to require a lot of money."
Money.
She didn't have that. She didn't even know where to get it.
She'd become an interior designer after her father's company went bankrupt. She used to work for him, but everything started to crumble after the business failed. They lost their home, forced to pack out, and the brightness of their lives had been fading ever since.
Now, when her family needed her most, she could do nothing. The thought made her feel useless.
---
"How are you holding up?" Noah asked softly, pulling her gently onto his lap, his arms circling her waist.
He had come to take her home for the night. Noah had already picked up some things from Elara's apartment earlier—she'd been wearing the same clothes for three days. She was stubborn, he thought, but he couldn't blame her.
He rubbed her back slowly, the motion steady and comforting.
"Why me?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "What did I do wrong?"
"Baby… everything's going to be alright," he said quietly.
"No," she snapped, her voice shaking. "Nothing is going to be alright. I'm going to lose both of them. My dad is no more." Tears rolled down her cheeks, falling onto her lap.
He tightened his hold on her. "We'll figure something out."
"Figure something out?" she repeated, her tone sharp as she stood from his lap.
"Elara—"
"What exactly are we going to figure out, Noah?" she cut him off, wiping her tears roughly. "I told you what they need. Money."
He stayed silent.
"You didn't say anything," she went on, her voice trembling with anger. "You just avoid the conversation—like you don't want to help me."
"What? I'd do anything to make you happy, and you know that."
"Then why didn't you do something?" she shot back. "You work in a company, you have connections—why don't you ask them for help?"
"You think I haven't tried?" he said, raising his voice now.
"No, I know you haven't. You're doing so much better than I am—you could at least try to support me so they can be saved!"
"I can't just go around begging everyone I know because my girlfriend needs the money, Elara! People have their own lives — their own problems! You think I haven't tried?"
"Babe, you're just tense right now. Let's go to bed." he said, running his hands through his hair.
"Fuck you, Noah," she spat, grabbing her phone and running out into the rain.
---
The night was cold and wet. Rain poured over her, soaking her through, but she didn't care. Maybe she had overreacted. Maybe she hadn't. None of it mattered now. She didn't care about her boyfriend's feelings right now—she needed money, and fast.
She found shelter under a bus stop, shivering. The street was empty, the silence heavy.
Her phone vibrated in the pocket of her soaking hoodie. It was Noah. She declined the call.
She hadn't looked at her phone in days. Now she scrolled through a flood of messages and missed calls: a lot from her best friend Ryan, some from work, some from her old neighborhood. She didn't know if she had the energy to respond to any of it.
She opened Ryan's message. There was a link — no caption, no explanation, just that.
Curiosity won over caution. She clicked.
A webpage loaded slowly through the rain-blurred screen, its headline gleaming in gold letters: It was for a charity gala—The Silver Light Foundation Annual Benefit. A place where the city's wealthiest came to flaunt their generosity. The page showed photos of the committee members, supporters, and special guests. They all looked impossibly perfect, people who walked on gold. Elara was starting to doubt these people were even real,
Her brows drew together. Why would Ryan send her something like that? A charity event? At a time like this? until her eyes snagged on a familiar name and face:
Lucien Voss.
Her Ex.