Chapter 54

"Meet me in my office. Now," Alexander commanded, his voice a mix of anger and professionalism.

Samantha nodded her expression a mix of frustration and worry. Alexander stormed to his office. The tension in the air was palpable. Once inside, he turned to face Samantha as she entered.

"What happened between you and my wife?" he demanded.

Samantha tried to wave it off. "Oh, Mrs. Alfred was just not in the mood and overreacted—"

Alexander slammed his hands on the table, making Samantha jump. "Do you think I'm fucking playing?" he roared. "What happened between you and my wife?"

As Alexander's fury simmered, Samantha spoke up with a trembling voice.

"I just told her to use the back entrance," she said, pointing to the back door. "I didn't mean any harm. I just thought it was better because of what she was wearing."

Alexander's eyes narrowed into a cold glare. "Was it your job to direct people to entrances or to be my secretary?" His tone was sharp. "And what gives you the right to tell anyone, let alone my wife, which entrance to use because of her clothes? You should know your role and not overstep your boundaries."

Before Samantha could respond, Theodore burst into the office, panic evident in his expression. "Alexander, Andrew texted directly to the office phone saying there's an emergency!"

Alexander's eyes flashed with alarm. "Get the hell out of my office," he snapped at Samantha.

Samantha scrambled out, her face pale with fear.

Alexander turned to Theodore, his voice urgent. "Did Andrew say anything else?"

Theodore shook his head. "No, just that there was an emergency."

Alexander quickly skimmed through the messages on his phone and read through the urgent messages from Margaret and Andrew, his heart racing with worry and confusion. Without hesitation, he sprinted out to his car, Theodore following closely behind.

Once they reached the car, Theodore slid into the driver's seat, and Alexander got in beside him, his expression tense and focused.

As Theodore started the engine, he glanced at Alexander. "Where are we going?"

"Take me home to my wife," Alexander said sharply, his voice laced with urgency.

Theodore nodded and pulled out of the garage, driving quickly through the city streets. The air in the car was thick with anxiety as Alexander stared out the window. Margaret had never left so many missed calls before, and he feared she might be in danger. His mind raced with different possibilities. He needed to see her, to understand what had happened, and to ensure she was safe.

Caisse stood by the reception desk, anxiously awaiting Andrew to return with the keycard. After several hours without a sign of him, her worry grew. She reached for the master key and decided to check for him herself.

When she arrived at room 24, she opened the door and called, "Andrew?" There was no response. The room was empty. At first, she was just worried, but then she remembered Andrew's flirtatious nature and wondered if he was trying to play some trick on her. "What trick is he trying to pull?" she muttered, her frustration mounting.

Caisse searched the hallway, calling Andrew's name as she walked. Without a sign of him, she headed toward the elevator, hoping to cover more ground. As she stepped inside, a man joined her.

"I'm just heading down to complain," he said, irritated. "There's been a lot of noise and banging on the door in one of the rooms in the corner. Someone needs to do something about it."

Caisse, the concierge, offered an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry for the inconvenience. I'll go upstairs now to check it out."

The man nodded. "That's the complaint I wanted to make."

Caisse asked, "Which floor is it on?"

"The 7th floor," he replied.

Her eyes widened in shock. Room 457 was on the 7th floor. A sudden fear gripped her. Was Andrew involved? The question echoed in her mind as the elevator ascended, her heart pounding with dread and uncertainty.

Caisse ran to room 457, a terrible feeling gnawing at her. When she opened the door, she screamed. Two men were lying on the floor in pools of their blood. She immediately ran to Andrew, her heart racing. "Andrew! Andrew, wake up!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls. "Somebody, help! Call 911!"

The man from the elevator, pale and trembling, pulled out his phone but fumbled with it, his hands shaking too much to dial. He looked like he was about to be sick, his face turning a sickly shade of green. "Please, make the call!" Caisse shouted at him, but he seemed disoriented as if he were seeing double.

Desperate, she ran over to him, her hands covered in blood. She reached out to steady him, but as soon as he saw the blood, his eyes rolled back, and he fainted, collapsing to the floor.

Caisse snatched the phone from his limp hand and dialled 911, her hands trembling. "Please, we need an ambulance! Two men are down, and they're bleeding badly! Room 457 at Greenwich Hotel!" She was crying and begging, her voice frantic. "Hurry, please!"

She dropped the phone and turned back to Andrew, but the man who had fainted was blocking her path. Torn between helping Andrew and dealing with the unconscious man, she chose the latter, hoping to rouse him quickly. "Wake up!" she screamed, slapping his face. "Wake up, damn it!"

After a few moments, the man stirred, groaning as he opened his eyes. But the moment he saw the blood on Caisse's hands again, he fainted once more.

Caisse shouted for help, her cries echoing off the soundproof walls with no one to hear them. Desperation gripped her as she realized no one would come. She bolted for the elevator, her heart pounding with each step.

When the elevator doors opened at the reception, Visitors and hotel staff froze, their eyes widening in shock at the sight of Caisse covered in blood. They quickly gave her space, parting like the Red Sea.

Her colleague, another concierge, rushed towards her, wrapping a cloth around her to shield her from prying eyes. Caisse was crying uncontrollably, her hands trembling, her eyes wide with trauma. All she could say was, "Room 457... room 457..."

Just then, paramedics burst through the hotel entrance, their expressions focused and urgent. "Where is it?" one of them asked, glancing around.

"Room 457," Caisse repeated, pointing weakly towards the elevators.

The paramedics nodded and rushed to the elevators, disappearing as they made their way to the seventh floor. Still in shock, Caisse was guided to a nearby chair by her colleague.

Caisse sat there, the world around her fading into a blur. All the sounds seemed to leave her ears, replaced by the deafening silence of her thoughts. She could almost hear her heartbeat, a steady, hollow rhythm that matched her growing sense of emptiness.

Suddenly, distant screams shattered the silence. The paramedics brought the injured out. Her heart lurched as she saw Andrew on a stretcher, his body lifeless and pale.

She ran to him, her breath hitching with each step. She grabbed his hand when she reached his side, but it felt cold and limp. Tears streamed down her face as she clung to him, her voice a choked whisper. "Andrew, please. Please stay with me."

The paramedics gently but firmly pulled her away, needing to continue their work. Caisse felt the world crumbling around her. Caisse, unable to stand the uncertainty any longer, rushed to the paramedics, her voice trembling with desperation. "Please, how is he? Is he okay? Is he alive?"