Chapter 20
Noah subtly kicked his mother's hands away from his shoulder and shrugged as he walked out of her profusely.
Collette frowned as she watched him walk away. She was surprised on how much Noah cared about Hope. She thought Hope was a sister, a rival standing in his way, but her thoughts was dismantled as she saw how bothered he was about her.
Georgiana, noticing how she was being carried away, she placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Collette turning to her, she parted her lips laughing at her.
“ Don't be bothered. Noah is just learning how to love. Give him some times to grow.”
“ Alright, Georgina!” Collette spoke and walked out of the place.
—--
Noah’s boots scuffed against the gravel as he walked away from the courtyard, each step carrying the weight of unsaid things. His mother’s stunned expression faded in his wake, replaced by the rising hum of evening cicadas. The late-day sun slanted low over the hedges, gilding the edges of his dark hair. He didn’t look back.
A few yards on, he paused at the wrought-iron gate. Beyond, the gardens stretched toward the riverbank—moonlight glittering on water he longed to see. He slid his hands into his pockets and exhaled, as if that might clear the knot in his chest.
Behind him, Collette returned to Georgiana, arms folded, brows still knitted. Georgiana gave her a gentle smile. “He’ll be all right,” she murmured. “He’s going where he needs to be.”
Collette watched Noah’s retreating figure, uncertainty softening her frown. “I hope you’re right.”
\-----
Noah pressed himself against the back wall of his walk-in closet, shoulders trembling. The rich scent of cedar and leather hung heavy around him, but he barely noticed. His heart thundered in his ears, each beat a plea: Come back to me, Hope.
He sank to the floor, phone clutched in one hand, and closed his eyes. Images raced across his mind: Hope’s pale face, the sudden collapse at the ball, her hand slipping from his grasp. He’d kissed her good-night by the garden gate—he should have noticed then, the faint tremor in her fingers, the slight sheen on her skin.
A cold fear crept in: What if this wasn’t an accident? What if someone in his family—someone who saw Hope as a threat—had poisoned her? The thought stabbed him sharper than any blade. If they discovered she lay in a hospital bed, helpless and hidden, they would come for her.
He swallowed hard, voice husky. “I need protection for Hope,” he whispered to himself. He flicked through his contacts and dialed the first bodyguard.
“Marcus,” he said when the phone connected. “Get to St. Jude’s Hospital. Room 412. Discreetly. I need you—and four others—on shift, around the clock. Do not let anyone near her without my say-so.”
On the other end, Marcus’s steady voice replied, “Understood, sir. Consider it done.”
Noah exhaled, relief mingling with guilt. He tapped out four more quick calls, each answered with the same unwavering loyalty. Then he sank lower against the closet wall, phone still warm in his hand.
He thought. “Just give them time.” But this was different. Time could kill Hope.
He bowed his head, offering a silent prayer. Forgive me for not protecting you sooner. Please fight—please come back to me.
—
The fluorescent glare of the hospital hallway made Noah’s eyes sting as he stepped out of the taxi. He straightened his coat and inhaled, summoning calm. Five black-suited figures melted from the shadows, each taking up a post by the entrance.
Nurse’s stations blurred past as he strode toward room 412. His heart pounded so loudly he thought the whole wing could hear it. A single guard slipped inside ahead of him, signaling the others to seal the door.
Inside, Hope lay motionless, pale against crisp white sheets. An IV dripped at her elbow, and a heart-monitor beeped in slow, regular pulses. Her dark hair fanned the pillow like a halo. Noah’s chest tightened—she was alive.
He approached her bedside, voice trembling. “Hope.”
Her eyelids fluttered. A weak smile touched her lips. “Noah…”
He grasped her hand, pressing it to his lips. “Thank God.”
She tried to sit up, and he gently shushed her. “Don’t move. You need rest.”
Tears slid down his cheeks. “I was so scared.”
She closed her eyes again, exhaling softly. “I… I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I should’ve—”
A sharp knock echoed at the door. Two doctors appeared, nodding to the guards.
The senior physician cleared his throat. “Mr. Sinclair, your presence stresses her. You must step back.”
Noah’s jaw clenched. “She needs me.”
The doctor softened. “Emotion can hinder recovery. Please wait in the anteroom. I promise to update you every hour.”
Reluctantly, Noah stood and followed the guard out. As the door closed, he pressed his palm against the cool wood, vowing silently: I will keep you safe. No matter the cost.
In the small anteroom, Noah paced. The guards sat impeccably still, eyes sweeping the corridor. Every so often, one would glance at him with professional concern.
He replayed the day’s events: the toast at Collette’s fundraiser, Hope’s sudden pallor, the silent rush of servants to her aid. Who among his family had motive? His mind flicked through possibilities—an envious cousin, a scheming aunt, even his own mother’s unspoken disapproval.
He tapped his foot. He needed answers.
He pulled out his phone and texted Georgiana:
“Hope’s alive. In St. Jude’s, Room 412. Poison suspected. Guards posted. Come now.”
Within minutes, Georgiana’s response arrived: “On my way. Stay calm. I’ll handle the family.”
Noah exhaled. With Georgiana intervening, he might learn who dared to harm Hope.
He sank into a chair, head in his hands. The guards remained silent, but their presence was a comfort—a shield between Hope and whatever darkness lurked in his own bloodline.
Time stretched, each minute heavy with fear and determination. Finally, the door opened. Georgiana slipped in, her pale face set with resolve.
“He’s contained the others,” she said in a low voice. “None can approach without my say. But we need proof—doctor’s report, toxicology. If we expose them too soon, they’ll vanish into the woodwork.”
Noah rose. “Then we wait for the lab results. And keep her safe.”
She touched his arm. “You did well. Now let me do mine.”