Chapter 94 Panic

Chapter 94 Panic
Steven’s POV

The television was at the far end of my office, but I could still see everything clearly.

I sat behind my desk, elbows resting on the polished wood, my eyes fixed on the screen mounted against the wall. The camera followed the racers on the track, bright colors flashing as bodies moved with relentless speed. Kayla’s team had already finished the initial relay, and with what the commentators’ said, I could tell the tone had shifted. It looked like the race was over.

Good. At least that part was done.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” I said, not taking my eyes off the screen.

The door opened, and Amelia stepped inside, a thin folder pressed to her chest. She crossed the room carefully, her heels clicking against the floor, and placed the files neatly on my desk.

“These need your signature,” she said politely.

I finally tore my gaze away from the television and nodded. “Thank you.”

I picked up my pen and began flipping through the documents, signing where necessary. Amelia did not leave. I noticed it a few seconds later, the way her presence lingered, heavy and unresolved. When I glanced up, she was still standing there, fingers clasped together, her eyes roaming my office with forced casualness.

Something about the air between us felt tight.

“I saw the announcement about the new interior design project,” she said eventually. “Congratulations.”

I paused, my pen hovering above the paper. “It’s not my project.”

She frowned slightly. “I thought you were leading it.”

“It’s my father’s,” I replied calmly. “I only presented the offer.”

“That still makes it yours,” she insisted. “You were the one who negotiated with the Chinese investors.”

I signed another page, my jaw tightening. “Laying down terms doesn’t make me the owner. I don’t take credit for work that isn’t mine.”

Especially my father’s.

She tilted her head. “Most people wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m not most people.”

Silence settled between us again, heavier this time. I finished signing the last page and closed the file, sliding it toward her.

“You can leave it with my assistant on your way out,” I said.

She picked it up but still didn’t move. Instead, she drew in a careful breath.

“About the other night,” she said.

I already knew where this was going, and I didn’t like it.

“I’m sorry if things felt awkward,” I said before she could continue. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”

Her brows knitted together. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I should have stopped it sooner,” I replied. “That’s on me.”

She hesitated. “We almost kissed.”

“And we didn’t,” I said firmly. “That’s all that matters.”

She studied my face for a moment. “Is it because of her?”

I looked away. “I don’t want to discuss this.”

She let out a small, resigned laugh. “I thought maybe we could try again. Go out sometime. When you’re less busy.”

“I will be busy,” I said immediately. “For a while.”

Her expression fell before she masked it. “I see.”

She turned to leave just as a sudden roar erupted from the television.

My head snapped back toward the screen.

The camera now showed two runners stepping onto the track alone.

Kayla and Vivian.

My breath caught when I realized the race was still going on.

“What’s happening?” Amelia asked, following my gaze.

I was already on my feet. “It’s obviously a sprint,” I muttered. “They’re deciding first place.”

The gun went off.

Kayla shot forward.

My heart slammed violently against my ribs as I leaned closer to the screen, my hands braced against the edge of the desk.

“Come on,” I whispered. “Come on, Kayla.”

She ran like fire, her acceleration sharp and furious. Vivian kept pace beside her, their movements eerily synchronized.

“They’re tied,” Amelia said softly.

I didn’t answer.

Halfway through the sprint, my chest tightened. Something felt wrong. A sick, crawling dread settled in my stomach.

Then it happened.

Vivian’s shoulder slammed into Kayla’s.

“No!” I screamed as Kayla stumbled, and in the same breath, the screen blurred when her body crashed forward onto the track.

My vision swam.

It felt like my heart had stopped entirely.

On the screen, medics rushed in, figures crowding around her still body.

“She’s not moving,” Amelia whispered.

I couldn’t hear her.

I couldn’t hear anything at all.

My stomach lurched violently as nausea rose, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I took a step back, then another, my legs suddenly weak.

“Steven?” Amelia called. “Are you okay?”

I ignored her.

The image of Kayla lying motionless burned itself into my mind.

“I need to go,” I said hoarsely.

“Go where?”

“Back to New York.”

I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door, barely registering Amelia’s voice calling after me.

“Steven!”

I stopped abruptly when I nearly collided with Caspian, who stood in the hallway with confusion written all over his face.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

My hands trembled at my sides. “It’s Kayla. She’s hurt.”

He followed my gaze to the television still playing inside the office. His face sobered instantly.

“Damn,” he muttered. “That looked bad.”

My breathing grew uneven as panic clawed its way up my chest. Caspian stepped closer, placing a steady hand on my shoulder.

“Hey,” he said. “Sit down. You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine,” I snapped, shrugging him off.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Let go of me.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

I turned on him, anger flaring hot and sharp. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself, so don’t pretend now.”

His expression hardened. “That’s not fair.”

“You’ve never cared,” I continued, my voice rising. “So stop acting like this matters to you.”

The words hung heavily between us.

Caspian’s jaw clenched, but he stepped back. “Do what you want.”

I didn’t wait. I stormed past him and out of the office.

Inside the car, the scene replayed over and over in my head. Kayla running. Kayla falling. Kayla lying unconscious on the track.

Please be okay.

My phone rang.

“Sir,” my assistant said, “your father’s plane isn’t available. We’ll have to prepare another.”

“How long?”

“At least a day.”

“I don’t have a day,” I said sharply. “Who’s in charge of arranging flights?”

There was a pause. “Gia. Your brother’s assistant.”

“Put him on.”

Moments later, Gia’s voice came through, calm and professional.

“I can arrange a rented plane,” he said. “It won’t be luxurious or as comfortable as your father’s private jet.”

“I don’t care,” I snapped. “Comfort is not what I’m looking for. Just do it.”

Two hours later, I stood at the entrance of the small aircraft, tension coiled tightly in my chest.

My phone buzzed again. The commissioner from New York, calling for what felt like the tenth time that day. I wasn’t in the mood to speak to him. I hung up and blocked the number.

As I turned to board, I stopped short.

Gia stood beside the steps.

“You’re coming?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes,” he replied smoothly. “That was part of the agreement with the person who rented the plane.”

I said nothing and proceeded inside.

Soon, the plane took off.

I scrolled through my phone, searching desperately for any update on Kayla. Every report was vague and unhelpful. I was about to text my assistant in New York to find out which hospital she had been taken to when an unknown number flashed on my screen.

I answered without thinking. “Who’s this?”

“Listen to me, Mr. Steven,” the commissioner said urgently.

I exhaled sharply. “I don’t have time—”

“After extensive investigation, we have a suspect behind the murders of Mel, Kayla’s private investigator, and the attempt on your life. The FBI may already be involved.”

“They visited me,” I said quietly. “A few days ago.”

“There’s a suspect,” he continued. “Someone you might know.”

My body went rigid. “Someone I know?”

There was a pause.

“The suspect’s name is Gia.”

The blood drained from my face as I slowly turned my head and found Gia glaring hard at me.

And the commissioner was still talking.