Chapter 178: Problems with the Prenatal Checkup Report

Chapter 178: Problems with the Prenatal Checkup Report
No matter what Eleanor said, the bodyguards at the door refused to let her move an inch. They stood like stone statues, blocking her exit with their massive frames. They had even taken her phone, cutting her off from every piece of news. She was a prisoner in a luxury hospital suite.

Two days passed in agonizing silence. Eleanor could not sit still. She knew the Prescott family was tearing itself apart outside. The fight for the throne was reaching its peak, and she was stuck in a room, waiting for someone else to decide her fate. She paced the floor, looking for a way to escape, when the door finally opened.

Harrison walked in. He looked like he had aged ten years in forty-eight hours. His face was pale, his hair was messy, and heavy bags hung under his eyes. He looked exhausted, as if the weight of the world was slowly crushing him.

Eleanor saw the red streaks in his eyes and felt a knot in her stomach. "What happened?" she asked, her voice tight with worry. "Harrison, tell me the truth. What is going on out there?"

Harrison tried to force a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. It was a hollow, haunting expression that made Eleanor’s skin crawl.

"Deborah and Daphne have been taken," Harrison said. His voice was flat, devoid of hope.

Eleanor gasped, her eyes widening in horror. "What? How? Was it Benjamin? Did he finally make his move against them?"

Harrison nodded slowly. He sat on the edge of a chair, his shoulders slumped. "Deborah listened to you. she didn't trust the family doctors anymore. She tried to bring in her own specialist to see our grandfather, but Benjamin’s men blocked every entrance. Eventually, she managed to sneak a doctor friend in by dressing him as a janitor. He did a quick blood test. The results were terrifying. Our grandfather has been poisoned."

Harrison paused, his voice choking up. Tears began to track down his weary face. "It’s a chronic poison. It has been in his system for at least two years. The doctor said it was meant to kill him slowly over several more years, but someone recently tripled the dose. That’s why he collapsed. If we don't get the antidote soon, he won't last another week."

Eleanor felt a chill run down her spine. She sat on the edge of the bed, her mind racing. "So Benjamin has been planning this for years. He wanted to kill Alistair slowly. Alexander’s accident just gave him the perfect chance to speed up the process. He wants to wipe out everyone who stands in his way so he can take the Prescott Group for himself."

She stood up, her eyes flashing with anger. "If we know he’s poisoned, we have to find the antidote. We have to use this evidence to take Benjamin down!"

Harrison shook his head. He looked defeated, his spirit completely broken. "Deborah tried to do that. She and Daphne went to confront Benjamin. They thought they could shame him into stopping. But Benjamin didn't care. He had already turned Deborah’s husband against her. They were grabbed right there in the estate and locked away. I don't even know where they are now."

He looked at Eleanor with desperation. "That is why I wouldn't let you leave this room. Benjamin is a monster. He is a psychopath who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. He killed Alexander. He is killing our grandfather. We cannot win this fight, Eleanor. We are just lambs waiting for the slaughter."

Eleanor felt a wave of hopelessness wash over her. She looked at the floor, her heart heavy. Benjamin had spent years building his power in the shadows. When Alexander was around, he was the only one strong enough to keep the wolf at the door. But now the lion was dead, and the wolf was inside the house.

Harrison stood up and walked over to her. He knelt on the floor in front of her, taking her hands in his. His grip was tight, his palms sweaty.

"I talked to Benjamin," Harrison whispered. "He made an offer. If you sign over your rights and the Prescott Group to him, he will give our grandfather the antidote. He will let Deborah and Daphne go. And he will let us leave New York forever."

He looked into her eyes with a strange, burning intensity. "I know I am betraying Alexander by saying this. But we can't beat him. If we stay and fight, we will all die. Come with me, Eleanor. Let’s leave this city. I will take care of you. I will love your child as if it were my own. You can use me as a substitute for Alexander. I don't care if I’m just a shadow for the rest of my life. Just let me protect you."

Eleanor stared at him in silence. She saw the pain and the longing in his eyes. Slowly, she pulled her hands away.

"I will sign the papers to save Alistair," she said softly. "I don't care about the money or the power. It was never mine to begin with. But I cannot go with you, Harrison. I can't use you as a replacement. It wouldn't be fair to you, and it would be an insult to the memory of the man I loved."

The light in Harrison’s eyes died instantly. He looked like he had been struck. He sat there for a moment, then stood up and wiped his tears.

"I understand," he said, his voice cold and hollow. "I’ll make the arrangements. I’ll make sure Benjamin gets the antidote to Grandpa. After that, you are free to go wherever you want. I’ll respect your choice."

He turned and walked out of the room. Eleanor watched his retreating back and sighed. She felt a deep sadness for him, but she couldn't lie to him.

She sat on the bed for a long time, thinking about her future and the child growing inside her. She felt suffocated by the four walls of the room. She stood up, deciding she needed to walk. She needed to feel like she wasn't a prisoner, even for a few minutes.

The guards didn't stop her this time. Harrison must have given them new orders. They followed her closely as she walked down the long, quiet hospital corridor.

She reached the elevators but realized she had forgotten her sweater. The air in the hospital was chilly. She told the guards to wait by the elevator while she went back to fetch it.

As she rounded the corner toward her suite, she froze. A tall figure in black was stepping out of her room. The man wore a black baseball cap pulled low, a face mask, and dark sunglasses. He looked like a shadow moving through the hallway.

Eleanor’s heart skipped a beat. She knew that stride. She knew the way those shoulders moved. It was a silhouette she had seen in her dreams every night for a week.

"Alexander?" she whispered.

The man didn't stop. He turned and bolted toward the emergency exit stairs.

"Alexander! Wait!" Eleanor screamed.

She ignored the pain in her side and ran as fast as she could. She burst through the heavy door to the stairwell, but the stairs were empty. She could hear the faint echo of footsteps several floors below.

She ran down the stairs, crying out his name. She searched every floor, her heart hammering against her ribs. She went all the way to the lobby and then back up, but the man was gone. He had vanished like a ghost.

Eventually, her strength gave out. She sat on the cold concrete steps, gasping for air and sobbing. Her chest ached with a grief so sharp it felt like a knife.

She couldn't be wrong. She knew his body language better than her own. It had to be him. But why wouldn't he stop? Why was he hiding from her if he was alive?

She thought about the fact that he had come from her room. He had been inside. If he had been there, he must have left something. A note. A sign. Anything.

She wiped her eyes and hurried back to her suite. She tore the room apart. She checked under the pillows, inside the drawers, and even in the bathroom. There was nothing. No note. No hidden message.

She called the guards and demanded to see the security footage. She told them someone had been in her room. But when the guards checked the monitors, they told her the same thing. No one had entered or exited her room while she was gone.

Eleanor sat on the bed, her hope turning into a dull ache. Was she losing her mind? Was her grief creating hallucinations?

She looked at her bedside table, where her medical files were stacked. She had looked at them a hundred times. But as she glanced at them now, her heart stopped.

She always kept her prenatal reports in a specific order. The ultrasound photo was always on top. She liked to see the little grey blur of her baby first. But now, the ultrasound was tucked into the middle of the stack. The lab results were on top.

Someone had definitely touched her papers. Someone had been reading about her baby.