Chapter 13 Racing Against The Fever
Darcy's POV
The scream ripped me awake. Hazel’s soft whimpers turned into high-pitched cries as soon as I lifted the blanket. Her small body shook, and the heat radiating from her little frame burned through my pajamas like fire.
I didn’t think so. I ran.
Adrian’s door slammed open before I could knock. He was half-dressed, hair sticking up, eyes wide with that raw panic I had only glimpsed once before the night Hazel had coughed violently at dinner.
“She’s burning up, Adrian!” I shouted, my voice sharp with fear. “We need to go now!”
His composure shattered completely. The confident, controlled billionaire I had seen in every boardroom, every press briefing, was gone. He stumbled forward, hands fumbling with his phone, the directions, the car keys. His jaw clenched tight, and for the first time, I saw the man beneath the armor, a father terrified for his child.
I grabbed Hazel from the crib, holding her close, feeling her tiny body quiver against mine. Her fevered whimpers pierced me straight through. I didn’t have time for hesitation, for questions, for the heavy weight of unspoken tension between Adrian and me.
“Adrian! Keys!” I snapped, forcing him to action.
He shook himself out of the panic, fumbling for the key fob and then sprinting down the hallway behind me. Hazel’s little legs kicked weakly, and I pressed her closer. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. We’re going to the hospital,” I whispered, my own voice trembling even as I tried to sound calm.
We reached the car. Adrian jumped into the driver’s seat, fumbling with the seatbelt while still glancing at Hazel and me. “Hold her steady,” he muttered, voice low, frantic. “I’m… I’m driving as fast as I can.”
I nodded, adjusting Hazel in my arms, her tiny hands gripping my shirt. She moaned softly against my chest, the heat of her fever almost unbearable. “We’re almost there,” I murmured, trying to convince her as much as myself.
The car roared onto the streets. Adrian’s driving was reckless, urgent. He swerved through traffic with precision and sheer adrenaline, barely touching the brakes, narrowly missing honking taxis and pedestrians. I held Hazel tighter, feeling the vibrations of the engine under my arm, the wind whipping through the open windows, the city lights blurring into streaks of color.
“I can’t believe I didn’t notice sooner,” Adrian muttered, voice tight, eyes focused on the road. “She… she didn’t show any signs earlier, and I…I should have…”
“Stop,” I said sharply, cutting him off. “Right now, she needs us. Not your fault.” My voice cracked, but Hazel stirred slightly at my words, a soft whimper, and I pressed my lips to the top of her head. “We’re almost there.”
Adrian didn’t argue. His hands gripped the wheel so tight the knuckles turned white. The tension radiating off him was palpable, but he kept the car under control, slicing through the streets like a man possessed.
The hospital loomed ahead, sterile and cold, the parking lot nearly empty at this hour. The bright lights reflected off the wet pavement, mocking the chaos of the last hour.
I jumped out first, still cradling Hazel, and raced toward the ER doors. Adrian followed closely behind, moving fast despite the panic in his expression. He didn’t look at me, didn’t say a word, but his presence beside me was like a tether solid, grounding, and terrifying in its intensity.
Inside, the fluorescent lights were harsh, unforgiving. The smell of antiseptic stung my nose. Nurses moved quickly, faces professional and detached. Adrian pushed forward, blurting out Hazel’s symptoms with a rapid, clipped urgency.
“She’s burning up fever spiked suddenly she’s only two,” he said, voice shaking despite himself. “We need help immediately.”
I held Hazel closer, feeling her fragile weight, her small chest rising and falling rapidly. She was so small, so delicate. My prayers, whispered silently, mingled with the frantic energy in the room. Please be okay. Please be okay.
The nurse took Hazel from my arms, measuring her temperature, checking her pulse. Adrian hovered nearby, pacing slightly, jaw tight, hands clenched. Every second stretched into an eternity.
“I—I didn’t see the signs early enough,” he muttered, almost to himself. The words were jagged, raw. He rarely allowed this side of himself to show vulnerability, guilt, panic but now it was impossible to hide. I reached out, touching his arm gently.
“Adrian, you did everything you could,” I whispered. “You brought her here. That’s what matters.”
His eyes met mine for a fraction of a second. No words. Just a flicker of recognition that we were both here, both trying, both scared.
The doctor appeared then, white coat crisp, eyes sharp. He knelt beside Hazel, examining her carefully, the faint click of a monitor echoing in the room. Adrian and I both watched, holding our breaths.
“She’s running a high fever,” the doctor said softly, his tone measured but serious. “We need to run more tests immediately.”
My stomach plummeted. The words were clinical, devoid of comfort, yet they carried the weight of the unknown. I tightened my arms around Hazel instinctively, feeling the heat radiating from her little body, her fragile fingers curling into my shirt.
Adrian froze beside me, his usual control slipping, replaced by raw, unguarded panic. The confident billionaire CEO was gone. All that remained was a father terrified for his child, and a man realizing that money, status, and power meant nothing when faced with helplessness.
I pressed a gentle kiss to Hazel’s forehead, whispering, “It’s going to be okay, baby. We’re right here. I’m not letting go.”
Adrian’s hand found mine again, grasping it tightly. No words were exchanged, but in that simple, grounding touch, we shared everything: fear, hope, determination, and the weight of responsibility.
The doctors wheeled Hazel into the testing room, her small cries muffled by the hospital walls. I followed closely, never letting go, never loosening my hold. Adrian was right behind me, moving fast, but careful, protective, eyes scanning the room, hands ready to intercept anyone or anything that could harm us.
And in that moment, the chaotic tension between us, the unspoken attraction, the fragile closeness, the dangerous warmth that had been simmering for weeks was replaced by a shared focus: keeping Hazel safe.
Nothing else mattered. Not the media. Not his mother. Not the paparazzi. Not our fragile hearts. Not the barriers we had carefully constructed to protect ourselves from each other.
All that mattered was the tiny life in my arms, and the man beside me who would do anything to protect her.
The doctor’s frown deepened as he reviewed the results coming in from the initial tests. His expression said it all before he even spoke.
“We need to run more tests immediately.”
The words hit like ice water. My heart skips a beat, and I press my face gently against Hazel’s, holding her as though my own warmth could protect her.
Adrian’s jaw tightens. His fingers dig into mine. His eyes lock on the doctor, sharp, unflinching. That controlled, commanding energy his signature returns, but there’s an underlying tension now, raw and palpable.
We are in this together. And whatever comes next, I know we won’t let go of each other or Hazel.