Chapter 322 The Fire

Chapter 322 The Fire
Emma's POV

I met Rachel at the hospital café, her eyes red-rimmed despite her attempts to appear composed. She stirred her coffee slowly before looking up at me.

"I broke up with Ethan," she said flatly.

"What? When? Why?" The questions tumbled out before I could stop them.

Rachel shrugged, her shoulders stiff with forced casualness. "It was a carefully considered decision. He refused to return to the States permanently. Said his research was too important."

"I'm sorry, Rach."

"Don't be. What do women want from love and marriage if not stability and support? If he can't give me that, I can manage on my own." Her voice cracked slightly despite her matter-of-fact tone.

I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Whatever you need, I'm here. If you want to cry, scream, or just sit in silence, I'll be right beside you."

Rachel gave me a watery smile, but her reply was cut short as my attention was drawn to the television mounted on the café wall. Breaking news flashed across the screen: "Fire at St. Paul's Cathedral. Two confirmed dead, six injured."

My heart stopped. Eleanor had been staying at the monastery connected to St. Paul's.

"I have to go," I said, already gathering my things.

"Emma, what's wrong?"

"Eleanor might be there. I need to check."

I rushed to my car, dialing Gavin's number repeatedly as I navigated through traffic. No answer. I tried Ryan next, but he didn't pick up either, which only intensified my worry about Eleanor's safety.

My mind raced with possibilities. Was it an accident? Arson? Was it aimed at me somehow? The monastery had been my sanctuary just days ago. I pressed harder on the accelerator.

When I reached St. Paul's, police barricades blocked the entrance. I approached an officer, my heart pounding.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, this area is restricted."

"Please, I need to get through. I'm Gavin Reynolds's fiancée," I said, the old title slipping out naturally. "His mother might be inside."

The officer's expression softened. "Mr. Reynolds has already been evacuated. He went down with the ambulance about twenty minutes ago."

"Is he hurt?"

"No major injuries that I'm aware of."

"What about the victims? Who are they?"

"We haven't confirmed identities yet. The Blackwell family is already at the scene, but I can't say more."

"Eleanor Reynolds? Have you heard that name?"

He shook his head. "You should try the hospital, ma'am."

I pushed past him, determined to see for myself. The cathedral's interior was chaos—charred pews, shattered stained glass, and the acrid smell of smoke hanging in the air. Ash particles floated like sinister snowflakes.

"Ma'am, you can't be in here!" A man in an investigation jacket blocked my path. "We're still securing the scene."

"I need to know if Eleanor Reynolds was here."

"I don't have that information. Please check with the hospital."

I reluctantly headed to Boston General, where I found Gavin in the emergency department. He looked nothing like his usual polished self. His expensive suit was covered in soot, his hair disheveled as he moved between injured victims, offering water and comfort. The sight was so incongruous with the man I knew that I stopped in my tracks.

A commotion at the entrance drew my attention. Ryan burst in, his face contorted with panic.

"Where is she?" he demanded, grabbing Gavin's arm. "Where's my mother?"

Gavin's face fell, and he said nothing. The silence was answer enough.

"No," I whispered, approaching them. "Gavin, please tell me Eleanor isn't—"

"It was Mrs. Blackwell and Father Michael," he said, his voice hollow with grief. "They couldn't get out in time."

The news hit me like a physical blow. Eleanor, who had treated me like a daughter, who had shown me nothing but kindness—gone.

When we had a moment alone, I turned to Gavin. "This wasn't an accident, was it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think it was meant for me. I was just there, at the monastery."

Gavin's expression darkened. "Blake's coming back soon. This might be connected to him."

"Blake? What does he have to do with this?"

"Wherever you go, he follows. Whatever concerns you, concerns him." Gavin's eyes narrowed. "You should stay with me. It's safer."

Despite my reservations, I nodded.

I spent the next hour talking to survivors, piecing together what happened. Most described being awakened from prayer by smoke and confusion.

"The fire spread from the outside in," one elderly man told me. "Like it was surrounding us. Mrs. Blackwell and Father Michael were too old to run. They got trapped."

No one had seen how it started. Everyone had been praying or meditating.

Outside the hospital, Ryan suddenly lunged at Gavin, tackling him to the ground. I tried to intervene, but Ryan shoved me aside. My head hit the wall, sending stars across my vision.

Gavin fought back fiercely, blood streaming from his nose as they grappled on the pavement.

"Where is she?" Ryan screamed, his face contorted with rage. "Give me my mother!"

I stared in confusion. What was he talking about? Eleanor was dead.

Gavin's nose was bleeding heavily, but he waved away my concern. "I'm fine."

I turned to find a doctor anyway, worried about Gavin's injury. As I rounded the corner, Ryan stepped directly into my path.

Before I could react, he hoisted me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

"Ryan! Put me down!" I pounded my fists against his back, but it was like hitting a brick wall.

He strode through the hospital exit, carrying me in plain view of everyone. My kicks and struggles were useless against his strength.

"Help!" I screamed, hoping someone would intervene. "Somebody help me!"