CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE
Margaret's eyes fluttered open slowly, the harsh light above her head making her wince. She squeezed them shut again, then opened them more carefully, trying to adjust to the brightness. Her gaze wandered around the room, taking in sterile white walls, medical equipment, an IV drip attached to her arm.

Where was she?

What had happened?

Where was everyone?

Where was James?

Wait. James.

Her head jolted as memories slammed into her like a physical blow. The school pickup. The prickling awareness of being watched. The syringe piercing her neck. Strong hands tearing James away from her. His terrified screams. Gunshots. Blood pounding in her ears as consciousness slipped away.

She was in the hospital.

Margaret tried to turn her neck and immediately felt a sharp, stinging sensation where she'd been injected. She winced, her hand moving instinctively to touch the tender spot.

She looked around the empty room again, panic starting to claw at her chest.

Why was she alone?

Where was James? Where was Alexandra?

Her body protested as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. She was dressed in a thin white hospital gown that did nothing against the chill in the air. Her bare feet touched the cold floor, sending shivers up her spine.

She moved toward the door on unsteady legs, gripping the IV stand for support. Her hand trembled as she turned the handle and pulled the door open.

The hallway beyond came into focus.

Tisha was there first. She'd been sitting on a bench but shot to her feet the moment Margaret appeared, rushing toward her. Thomas moved too, his expression grave.

But it was the sight of Adrian holding a sobbing Alexandra that made Margaret's blood run cold.

Tears immediately blurred her vision. Her insides churned with fear, with dread, with the terrible certainty that something was horribly wrong.

She looked around frantically, searching for any sign of James—a flash of his bright smile, the sound of his voice, anything.

Nothing.

She turned to Thomas, her voice barely above a whisper. "Where's James?"

The question felt like it might split her in half.

Thomas's face crumpled with sympathy and sorrow. He gave her the saddest smile she'd ever seen. "They took him, Margaret." His voice was gentle but firm. "We don't know who, because there's no trace. And whoever they are—" He paused, his jaw tightening. "They haven't called. Haven't sent any messages about what they want."

"No." Margaret shook her head, the movement making her dizzy. "No, no, no."

Her hand flew to her mouth as a sob tried to escape. "I was holding onto him. Right up until I lost consciousness. I prayed—I prayed Tisha would come quickly enough. I prayed—"

Her voice broke completely. "Tell me you're joking, Thomas. Please. Tell me he's just in one of these rooms getting treated. Tell me he's safe. Tell me—"

"I wish I could say that, Margaret." Thomas's voice was thick with emotion. "God knows I wish I could. But I can't lie to you. He's gone." He paused, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "But one thing I know for certain—we will find him. We will bring him home."

Tears rolled down Margaret's cheeks in hot streams. Her legs felt weak, unsteady, as she moved toward Alexandra, who was still sobbing against Adrian's chest, seemingly unaware of anything else.

"Alex." Margaret's voice came out strangled, tearful.

Alexandra's head snapped up. For a moment, she just stared at Margaret like she couldn't quite process what she was seeing. Then she pulled away from Adrian and threw herself into Margaret's arms.

They both cried—deep, wrenching sobs that seemed to come from the very depths of their souls.

"I'm so sorry," Margaret gasped out, her words broken by tears. "I couldn't protect him. I'm so sorry, Alex. I should have fought harder. I should have held on tighter. I should have—"

Her voice cracked completely, the words dissolving into short, jagged breaths that burned her lungs.

"Stop." Alexandra pulled back slightly, her hands gripping Margaret's shoulders. Her face was blotchy and swollen from crying, but her eyes held fierce determination beneath the pain. "Don't you dare apologize. This isn't your fault. Do you hear me? This is not your fault."

She pulled Margaret close again, patting her back in soothing circles even as her own body shook with suppressed sobs. "We will find him. We have to. We just—" Her voice wavered. "We just have to wait for a call from whoever took him. They'll want something. Money, leverage, something. And when they call, we'll get him back. So everyone needs to stay alert. Stay ready."

But even as she said the words, Alexandra felt the crushing weight of helplessness pressing down on her chest.

༺༺♡♡༻༻

"You go around causing chaos in this country, making a spectacle of yourself, and you expect no consequences?"

President Harrison stood behind his study desk, his face flushed with anger. His eyes—so much like Alicia's but colder, harder—were filled with disappointment and disgust. "Are you aware I have a standing to protect, Alicia? A legacy? Do you think your actions don't reflect on me?"

Alicia rolled her eyes silently, her arms crossed over her chest. "I know, Dad. But I had to help my friend. And I'm not the one who asked people to record it and plaster it all over social media."

The president's hand came down on his desk with a sharp slam that echoed through the study. Alicia flinched backward, though she quickly schooled her expression back to neutrality.

"You assaulted two people in broad daylight!" His voice rose, veins visible in his neck. "Do you understand how that looks? The president's daughter acting like a common thug?"

"I was defending someone I care about," Alicia shot back, her voice rising to match his. "Something you've never understood. Caring about anyone other than yourself and your precious image."

"Watch your tone with me, young lady."

"Or what?" Alicia's hands clenched at her sides. "You'll disown me? Cut me off? You've been threatening that for years, Dad. Just do it already if that's what you want."

President Harrison's jaw worked, his face going even redder. When he spoke again, his voice was dangerously quiet. "You're confined. No allowance. No car privileges. No leaving the residence without explicit permission."

Alicia stared at him, her mouth falling open. "What?"

"You heard me." He turned away from her, his posture rigid. "You're being disciplined. Now go to your room, or I'll have security escort you."

Alicia looked like she wanted to argue—her mouth opened, words forming on her tongue. But something in her father's expression made her snap it shut again. She spun on her heel and left his study, her breath coming in short, labored bursts.

Grounded. Like she was a teenager again instead of a grown woman.

This was her relationship with her parents in a nutshell. Her mother had already told her to "fix her mess" earlier, and now her father had confined her and cut off her finances.

Could this day get any worse?

She stepped out of the main house and walked quickly to her car, her hands fumbling for her keys. She needed to get out of here. space to breathe. Needed to talk to someone who actually gave a damn about her feelings. Whatever rules her father had given forgotten. She wasn't one to stick by rules anyways.

She unlocked her car and slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door harder than necessary. Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Probably Chris, she thought, allowing herself a small smile despite everything. At least he made her feel seen, valued, like she mattered beyond her last name.

She pulled out her phone and opened the text.

The air left her lungs in a painful rush.

The message was from Adrian: James was taken from school today. Margaret's in the hospital. Alex is here and she's falling apart. She needs you. Please come.

"No," Alicia whispered, her hands starting to shake. "No, no, no."

Tears blurred her vision as she read the message again, hoping she'd misunderstood. But the words remained the same.

James. Sweet, innocent, brilliant little James had been taken.

Alicia swiped at her face roughly, trying to clear the tears, but they kept coming. Her chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped steel bands around her ribs and was slowly squeezing.

She started the engine with trembling hands and peeled out of the driveway, her father's restrictions forgotten. He could go to hell. Alexandra needed her.

Her mind raced as she drove, breaking at least three traffic laws without caring. Who would take James? Why? Was he hurt? Was he scared? Was he crying for his mother?

And Alexandra—God, Alexandra must be destroyed. That little boy was her entire world.

Alicia pressed harder on the accelerator, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.