100
Carolina sat in the cold hospital waiting area, her knee bouncing restlessly. Her fingers trembled as she gripped her phone and scrolled through contacts. She didn’t have Kingsley’s number. But she knew who would.
She tapped Devon’s name and pressed Call.
He answered on the third ring, his voice groggy.
“Carolina?”
She broke into sobs the moment she heard his voice. “Devon—Devon, it’s bad. It’s Katherine. Oh my God. Please… she—she was attacked.”
His tone instantly sharpened. “Wait—what? What do you mean? What happened?”
“She was beaten… in the movie theater bathroom. I–I found her. There was so much blood. They rushed her into emergency surgery. Please, call Kingsley. He needs to know. I don’t have his number.”
A pause. Then Devon said softly, “I’ll handle it.”
The city glowed faintly outside his mansion window. Kingsley had just changed into his midnight-blue silk sleepwear when his phone buzzed across the nightstand.
He squinted at the screen.
Devon.
He answered.
“Yo.”
Devon’s voice came in like a storm.
“Kingsley. It’s Katherine. She’s in the hospital. She was attacked. Bad. Lenox Hill.”
The words hit like ice water.
Kingsley froze. “What?”
“Beaten in a movie theater restroom. Carolina found her unconscious. She’s in critical condition.”
For a moment, Kingsley couldn’t breathe.
Then he held his phone tightly in his palm and bolted.
The sharp slam of the front door echoed through the mansion as Kingsley burst out of the house barefoot, silk nightwear fluttering behind him like a war flag.
From the top of the marble stairs, Beth emerged, startled by the noise. Her silk robe trailed behind her as she called out, confused and annoyed.
“Kingsley? What the hell are you doing? Where are you running off to looking like that—have you lost your mind?”
He stopped dead in his tracks, turned slowly—and stalked back toward her like a storm ready to break.
His face was pale with fury, his eyes ablaze, jaw clenched so hard it looked carved in stone. He stepped up close, barely inches from her.
His voice was low. Deadly.
“I swear to God, Beth…”
He inhaled, voice shaking now with rage.
“If I find out that you had anything—anything—to do with what just happened to Katherine… if you even touched this, if you so much as whispered the wrong word to the wrong person—
I will destroy you.”
Beth blinked, stunned, lips parted but no sound came out.
Kingsley didn’t wait for a reply. He turned around and walked off, chest heaving. His footsteps were fast, unrelenting.
Beth remained frozen at the top of the stairs, her heart pounding in her ears. She’d never seen him like that. Not even during their worst arguments.
She clutched her robe tighter around her.
And for the first time in a long time—
Beth felt fear.
Kingsley was already halfway down the grand staircase when the butler called after him, “Sir, where are you—?”
“Open the gate!” Kingsley shouted. “NOW!”
The driver, startled and sleepy-eyed, scrambled out of the town car.
“Sir, it’s late—what happened?”
“Brooklyn. Lenox Hill Hospital. NOW.”
“But sir—your shoes—”
“I said DRIVE!”
The car roared to life.
Kingsley sat in the back seat, fists clenched, chest heaving, heart pounding like war drums.
His voice came out in a whisper, raw and low:
“If she dies… I swear… I will burn this city down.”
The car cut through Brooklyn’s midnight haze like a blade. Inside, Kingsley sat barefoot, legs bouncing in agitation, silk pajama pants clinging to his skin, the matching shirt unbuttoned at the collar. Sweat from panic clung to his chest. The city lights streaked past the tinted windows, but all he could think about was Katherine—bloodied, unconscious, maybe fighting for her life.
His phone vibrated. He glanced at the caller ID.
Nathan.
Kingsley pressed the green button with a tight exhale. “Not now, Nathan. Call me later—this is not the right time.”
Nathan’s voice came firm. Low. Urgent.
“Sir… this is the right time. It’s about Beth’s ex-husband's investigation. You need to hear this.”
Kingsley’s brow furrowed, still staring ahead. “Go on.”
Nathan didn’t hesitate.
“Yes, Charles is in prison—but sir, Beth is the one who put him there.”
Kingsley’s stomach dropped. “What are you saying?”
“She framed him,” Nathan said. “Yeah, Charles cheated—slept with many women. But they were all of age. Everything was consensual. She couldn’t destroy him for infidelity, so she orchestrated something darker.”
Kingsley’s throat tightened.
“She used a young woman,” Nathan continued. “Someone vulnerable, easy to manipulate. She made sure Charles slept with her, then spun it into a harassment case. Rape charges followed. Also, frame him with an underage girl which added statutory rape charges. Then came the tax evasion scandal. She had all the documents ready. She leaked his financials to the Feds. Everything. It was premeditated. Cold. Ruthless.”
“Jesus Christ…” Kingsley muttered, breath catching.
But Nathan didn’t stop.
“And that’s not even the whole story. Beth—she never intended to marry you. You were just her stepping stone.”
Kingsley stiffened. The driver glanced at him briefly in the rearview mirror, sensing the shift in energy.
“She always planned to marry into a bigger world. Charles was a bigger start. He had international assets. Media power. She suggested marriage to him. The goal was never love—it was legacy. She wanted to be the most powerful among the billionaire wives. The queen bee. You were just the warm-up.”
Kingsley clenched his jaw.
“When you proposed, she panicked. She didn’t want to say yes. She wanted someone a hundred times richer. So she lied—told you her father didn’t approve. Made you think you lost her because of your family. But that was never true. Her father didn’t even know the full story.”
“And she married Charles…” Kingsley whispered, voice brittle.
“Yes. But it wasn’t what she expected. She discovered Charles wasn’t just a cheater—he was proud of it. Had a permanent side chick he spoiled more than her. When she confronted him, he laughed. Said she was the desperate one who forced him into marriage. Told her he’d never stop.”
Nathan’s voice darkened.
“That’s when she snapped. She framed him. Destroyed his empire. Transferred his assets into her name. And the side chick girl? Missing. Gone. No trace.”
Kingsley’s pulse thundered.
“She took down a man twice as powerful as you, sir. And cleanly. No fingerprints. No evidence. Just ashes where a legacy used to be. That’s how dangerous she is. Strategic. Merciless.”
Nathan paused, then added one final blow:
“And when she saw your company skyrocket—when she saw you become one of the top billionaires—she came back. Not for love. For power. You need to be careful, sir. She will do anything to get what she wants. Even destroy people. Or…” Nathan hesitated, voice tightening, “…kill them.”
Silence filled the car.
Kingsley’s chest heaved slightly. The headlights sliced through the shadows of Brooklyn now. The hospital wasn’t far.
He raised the phone to his ear again. Voice low. Controlled.
“Thank you, Nathan. I’ve heard enough.”
He ended the call.
The phone dropped into his lap.
And in that silence, Kingsley made a vow to himself.
If Beth had anything to do with what happened to Katherine—if one single fingerprint of hers was found—he would unleash every ounce of power he had.
Because this time, Beth wouldn’t be the one doing the destroying.
The automatic doors to Lenox Hill Hospital flung open.
Kingsley stormed inside—barefoot, silk nightwear clinging to his frame, his face pale and soaked in sweat. His eyes darted like a man lost in a nightmare, the hallways too sterile, too slow.
Then he saw her.
“Carolina!” he called out, rushing toward her, chest heaving.
She stood up from the waiting room bench in shock. “Oh my God… Kingsley—you’re barefoot. You’re in your nightwear.”
He barely seemed to hear her. “Where is she?” he demanded, voice cracking.
Carolina stepped toward him, gently but shaken. “She’s in surgery… She’s still in the operating room. We just have to wait now.”
Kingsley finally stopped moving, like her words knocked the breath from him. His shoulders sagged. His hands trembled slightly at his sides.
“I heard what happened and just ran out of the house,” he said quietly. “Didn’t even think. I couldn’t… I didn’t have time to change.”
Carolina gave him a nod, eyes soft with worry, and gestured to the bench. They both sat down, the silence between them heavy, broken only by the low murmur of nurses passing and the distant beeping of machines.
After a moment, Kingsley turned to her, eyes haunted. “What happened, Carolina? Tell me. All of it.”
Carolina inhaled shakily and began. “We were at the movie theater. Katherine said she needed to use the restroom, and I told her I’d get the tickets while she went. She went in, and after some time, she didn’t come back. I thought maybe she was just taking a while, but something didn’t feel right. So I went to check…”
Her voice wavered.
“She was lying on the floor in the women’s restroom. Unconscious. Bleeding from her head. There was so much blood, Kingsley. Her eyes were open but… but she wasn’t there. I screamed. People came, someone called 911, and they rushed her here. That’s all I know.”
Kingsley’s jaw clenched. He lowered his face into his palms for a moment, then ran both hands through his tousled hair, his breathing harsh.
Just then, the double doors at the end of the hallway swung open.
A man in scrubs, mask pulled down, stepped forward—a tired but composed expression on his face.
Carolina and Kingsley both stood.
“Doctor!” Kingsley called out. “What’s happening?”
The doctor paused. “I’m sorry, who are you to the patient?”
Kingsley stepped forward without hesitation. “I’m her boyfriend.”
Carolina stood beside him. “And I’m her best friend.”
The doctor nodded. “Okay. Thank you for waiting.”
He sighed gently, his tone becoming clinical but not cold.
“We’ve completed the emergency surgery. I want to be transparent about what we found and where things stand.”
Kingsley’s entire body tensed.
“The patient suffered multiple severe head injuries consistent with blunt force trauma. There was a skull fracture at the back of the head and significant internal bleeding—specifically a subdural hematoma. We were able to relieve the pressure on her brain by evacuating the clot.”
He glanced between them, gauging their reactions.
“She also sustained several broken ribs and a collapsed lung, which we’ve stabilized.”
Carolina covered her mouth. Kingsley stared, frozen.
“The surgery went as well as we could have hoped, given the circumstances. However… due to the severity of the brain injury and the time she was unconscious before arriving, she hasn’t regained consciousness. She’s in a coma.”
Carolina gasped softly. Kingsley’s knees nearly buckled.
The doctor continued carefully, “She’s been moved to the ICU, where we’ll monitor her closely. At this stage, it’s too early to predict if or when she’ll wake up. The next 24 to 72 hours will be critical. We’ll do everything we can.”
There was a long, agonizing silence.
“Can I see her?” Kingsley asked, voice low, almost afraid.
The doctor gave a gentle nod. “Yes. One at a time. Just a few minutes. She’s stable, but very fragile.”
Kingsley looked at Carolina, and she nodded. “Go,” she whispered.
He turned, following the doctor toward the ICU. Barefoot. Heart racing. Not knowing if he was walking into a beginning… or an ending.