Chapter 157 She Knows What's Good for Her
The worst didn't happen. The car swerved through several close calls, but she kept it steady. They reached the hospital in one piece.
Donny carried Rodolfo straight into the emergency room. Isabella handled the paperwork and payments. When she finished, she stood outside the ER doors, her hands clenched tight, palms slick with cold sweat.
She was terrified, terrified that Rodolfo wouldn't make it, that Hermione would be left alone.
That kind of loneliness... she knew it well. She had felt it when her grandmother died, left standing there, empty.
She prayed silently, begging fate not to take him. She would have given her own life if it meant saving his.
Her life had been a gift from Beatrice, bought with her sister's sacrifice. And Beatrice, kind, generous Beatrice, wouldn't have blamed her for making such a choice.
"Beatrice... if it's possible... I'd give my life to save him. If Hermione loses her husband, she'll be destroyed. I can't watch that happen. You wouldn't be angry with me, would you? You were the kindest person I ever knew."
Isabella pressed her hands together, hoping somehow, somewhere, Beatrice could hear her.
Two hours later, the ER doors swung open. Donny stepped out and told her Rodolfo was stable, though he would need to stay for observation. The knot in her chest loosened just a little.
"Donny, thank you."
"Don't mention it. It's what I'm here for."
Donny arranged a room for Rodolfo and called his children. They thanked him profusely over the phone, but the earliest they could arrive was tomorrow. He would have to manage until then.
Isabella called Hermione to reassure her, promising to stay and look after Rodolfo.
"Isabella, thank you. If you two hadn't been there today, I don't know what I would have done. Rodolfo's been saying he doesn't feel well, but he refuses to see a doctor. And now look, he's this sick."
Hermione's voice broke. Isabella's throat tightened.
"Old people always have aches and pains. Rodolfo's going to be fine. I'll take care of him. Don't worry."
"Isabella, thank you."
"It's nothing. I think of Rodolfo as family. Get some rest. I'll keep you updated."
She hung up and looked at Rodolfo lying in the hospital bed, an IV drip feeding into his arm. A flicker of panic crossed her mind. If she didn't go back tonight, would William be angry?
He had told her once: when he came to the villa, she had to be there, waiting.
She hesitated, then dialed his number.
William was at the club, drinking. When his phone buzzed, the caller ID made something shift in his chest.
He'd felt hollow all night, as though his heart had stopped beating. But seeing her number, something warm flickered to life.
He answered. Silence on the other end.
William frowned. "Are you mute? You call and then say nothing?"
Isabella didn't know how to explain, but she had to stay tonight.
"Mr. Spencer, can I stay in town tonight? Rodolfo's sick. His children aren't here. I'm worried about him."
Her voice trembled, small and pleading.
At least she knew to ask permission.
"Do what you want."
William hung up. It wasn't like he needed her there every second. As long as she knew her place.
Isabella exhaled slowly. She pulled a chair beside the bed and sat down. Her eyes barely left the IV bag hanging from the stand.
She silently willed the medication to flow faster, to take away his pain, to bring him back.
"Rodolfo, please be okay."
Just after midnight, Donny finished his rounds and drove back to the hospital. He didn't trust leaving Isabella alone.
When he reached the room, he didn't push the door open right away. Instead, he looked through the glass window.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
Isabella stood by the window, her back to the bed. She tilted her head slightly, as if speaking to someone. Her voice was soft, almost tender.
"Beatrice, look. The stars are so bright tonight. You used to say people become stars when they die. Will I become a star too?"
"Beatrice, it's so dark out there. Are you scared? Why are you standing outside? Why won't you come in?"
She paused, shook her head gently, her tone turning pleading. "I know I was wrong, Beatrice. Please don't be mad at me... I shouldn't have fought with you. I shouldn't have hidden. Can you forgive me?"
"Beatrice, why aren't you saying anything?"
Suddenly, Isabella gripped the windowsill. Her voice turned frantic. "Beatrice, the fire's getting bigger! Get out of there! Why won't you come out? Come here! Please!"
Donny froze. His fingers went numb.
He knew Isabella had never recovered from Beatrice's death.
She was always quiet, always distant. Sometimes she said things that made no sense.
But he hadn't realized it was this bad.
Then she started climbing onto the windowsill. They were on the eighth floor.
Donny bolted forward and grabbed her, his voice sharp with panic. "Isabella, what are you doing?!"
She spun around, eyes wild. "The warehouse is on fire! Beatrice is still inside!"
Donny gripped her shoulders, trying to ground her. "Calm down. The fire's out. Look, there's no fire. See?"
Isabella stared out the window. She saw distant lights flickering in the dark. To her, they looked like embers. She shook her head frantically. "There are still sparks! It'll start again! I have to put them out before they reach Beatrice!"
She tried to climb up again. Donny wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back.
"Isabella, don't. The fire's gone. Your sister's safe."
He held her tight, afraid that if he let go, she might disappear.
How had it gotten this bad?
How had he not seen it sooner?
Hot tears spilled onto Isabella's shoulder. She pushed him away and stared at his face, confused. "Why are you crying? Did the fire scare you? Don't be afraid. I'm here. It won't hurt you."
Donny's tears came harder.
She was worse than he'd thought. She used to be so bright, so full of life. She was never meant to be like this.
"Why are you still crying? Are you hurt? Does it hurt?"
Isabella tilted her head, studying him like a child trying to comfort an adult.
Donny looked into her empty eyes. He wasn't sure she even recognized him anymore.
He took her shoulders gently, trying to guide her away from the window. "I think I'm a little hurt. Can you sit with me over there?"
Isabella shook her head. Her gaze drifted back to the window. Her voice turned anxious again. "My sister hasn't come in yet. I have to save her. The fire will reach her..."
Donny tightened his grip, his voice softer now, like soothing a frightened child. "Isabella, listen to me. The firefighters put the fire out hours ago. Your sister's safe. Those lights are just streetlamps, not fire."
Isabella squinted at the lights, repeating his words slowly. "Those are lamps... not fire?"
"That's right. There's no danger."
"Then where's Beatrice? Where is she?"