The hospital waiting room was too quiet. Alex sat with his head in his hands, waiting for news about his father. The doctor had said something about a "stress-induced cardiac event"—not a full heart attack, but still dangerous.
Alex's mother paced back and forth, her face pale with stress. Sophia sat beside Alex, her hand on his shoulder for comfort. Everyone else from the rehearsal dinner had gone home.
Everyone except Ethan, who stood by the window, looking out at the night.
A doctor finally appeared. "Mrs. Rivera? Your husband is stable now. He's looking for you."
Alex's mother ran through the doors. The doctor turned to Alex. "He wants to see you too, young man. But just for a few minutes. He needs rest."
Alex nodded and followed the doctor, leaving Sophia and Ethan behind. In the hospital room, his father looked small against the white sheets. Tubes and wires joined him to beeping machines.
"Dad," Alex whispered, taking his hand.
His father opened his eyes. "Alex. I'm sorry about all this."
"Don't apologize. Just focus on getting better."
His father squeezed his hand weakly. "The wedding... it's in two days."
Alex's stomach twisted. Even now, his father was thinking about the wedding?
"Don't worry about that right now," Alex said.
"No, listen." His father's voice was urgent. "I need to tell you something. The wedding... we pushed for it because we thought it would make you happy. Secure your future."
"Dad—"
"But seeing you these past few weeks... you're not happy, son." His father's eyes filled with tears. "And that's all I've ever wanted for you. To be happy."
Alex couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying if you don't want to marry Sophia, you don't have to. We'll understand."
Relief washed over Alex like a wave. "Really? But what about the business? The merger with Mr. Martinez's company?"
His father shook his head. "We'll figure it out. Your happiness is more important."
The doctor appears at the door. "That's enough for now. Mr. Rivera needs to rest."
Alex left the room feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. In the waiting room, Sophia looked up eagerly.
"How is he?" she asked.
"He's going to be okay," Alex said. Then, dropping his voice, "He told me I don't have to go through with the wedding if I don't want to."
Sophia's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Yes. But I don't want to hurt you or your family."
Sophia took his hands. "Alex, listen to me. I've known for a long time that your heart belongs to someone else." Her eyes flickered to Ethan, who was still by the window. "I care about you too much to force you into a marriage you don't want."
Alex hugged her tight. "Thank you," he whispered.
They decided to talk more in the morning. It was late, and everyone was tired. Sophia's father came to pick her up. Alex's mother stayed at the hospital. Alex was about to call a cab when Ethan approached.
"I can drive you home," he offered.
The car ride was quiet. Alex wanted to talk about what had happened, about his father's permission to call off the wedding, about the things Ethan had said outside the restaurant. But Ethan's face was closed off, his eyes fixed on the road.
When they reached Alex's apartment building, Ethan spoke for the first time. "Will your dad be okay?"
"The doctor thinks so, yes."
"Good. That's good." Ethan drummed his fingers on the driving wheel. "Well, goodnight then."
Alex wanted to ask him to come up, to talk, but the words stuck in his mouth. "Goodnight," he said instead, and got out of the car.
Alone in his apartment, Alex couldn't rest. Too much had happened. His mind kept repeating Ethan's words: "I've been in love with you for years." Had he really meant it? Or was he just saying what he thought Alex wanted to hear?
Alex tried to sleep, but the thoughts wouldn't stop spinning. At 11:30, he gave up and went to the kitchen to make some tea. As he waited for the water to boil, he looked around his room.
In two days, he was expected to be married. There were boxes everywhere, packed with his things, ready to move into the new house he and Sophia had bought. A house he'd never really wanted.
The tea kettle whistled. Alex poured the hot water into his mug and brought it to the living room. On the coffee table was the wedding invitation, beautifully designed by his father. The one that had apparently contained a secret code.
Alex picked it up, studying it. The fancy writing, the ornate border, the small details that his father had insisted on. Was there really a code hidden in it? Or had that been a lie too?
His phone rang, making him jump. It was midnight exactly. The screen showed Ethan's name.
Alex's heart raced as he answered. "Hello?" "Alex. " Ethan's voice sounded strange. Tight.
"Ethan? What's wrong?"
"We need to talk."
"Okay. Do you want to come over or—"
"Not now. Not... I can't."
"Ethan, you're scaring me. What's going on?"
There was a long pause. Alex could hear Ethan breathe.
"I shouldn't have called," Ethan said finally. "Forget it."
"No, wait—"
But the line went dead. Ethan had hung up.
Alex tried calling back quickly, but it went straight to voicemail. He sent a text: "What's going on? Talk to me."
No answer.
Alex paced his apartment, worry rising with each passing minute. Something was wrong. Ethan wouldn't call at midnight, sounding so strange, then hang up for no reason.
At 12:30, Alex couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed his keys and jacket and headed out. It was a fifteen-minute drive to Ethan's place. As he drove, Alex kept trying Ethan's phone. Still no answer.
When he reached Ethan's apartment building, something felt off. The street was too quiet. Too empty. Alex parked and walked quickly to the door. He put in the door code—he knew it by heart—and went inside.
Ethan lived on the third floor. Alex took the stairs, too impatient for the lift. When he reached Ethan's door, he knocked loudly.
No answer.
"Ethan? It's me, Alex. Open up!"
Nothing.
Alex pressed his ear to the door. Was that the sound of something breaking?
Without thinking, Alex tried the lock. To his surprise, it turned. The door was open.
He pushed it open slowly. "Ethan?"
The room was dark. A lamp had been knocked over in the living room, its bulb broken on the floor. There were other signs of a struggle—a bookshelf tipped over, papers spread everywhere.
"Ethan!" Alex called, fear making his voice shake.
He searched the place quickly. No one was there. But on the kitchen counter, he found Ethan's phone. Next to it was a piece of paper with messy handwriting: "If you want to see your friend again, bring the real wedding invitation to the old mill by the river. 1 AM. Come alone or he dies."
Alex checked the time: 12:45. He had fifteen minutes.
His hands shook as he picked up Ethan's phone. The screen lit up, showing a half-written text to Alex: "They found me. They know the offer at dinner was fake. The real one is in your room behind the"
The words cut off there. Alex's mind raced. The real invitation? Behind what? And who were "they"?
Then it hit him—his father's strange insistence on designing the card himself. The "code" hidden in it. What if that hadn't been a lie? What if there were two invitations—a fake one for show, and a real one with the proof his father had found?
Alex ran to his car. He had to get back to his flat, find the real invitation, and then get to the factory by the river. All in less than fifteen minutes.
As he drove, breaking every speed limit, Alex's mind was full of Ethan. What if he was hurt? What if Alex was too late?
He screeched to a halt outside his building and raced upstairs. Inside his apartment, he furiously tried to think. Behind what? Where would his father have kept the real invitation?
His eyes fell on a big framed photo on the wall—a picture of him and his parents from years ago. Behind the picture?
Alex pulled the frame off the wall. There, taped to the back of it, was an envelope. Inside was another wedding invitation. It looked almost similar to the fake one, but when Alex held it up to the light, he could see tiny dots and marks in the design that weren't in the other one.
This had to be it.
He checked the time: 12:55. Five minutes to get to the old plant.
Alex ran back to his car, the offer clutched in his hand. As he drove toward the river, his phone rang. Unknown number.
"Hello?" he replied, his voice shaking.
"Alex Rivera." It was a woman's voice, one he didn't recognize. "Do you have the invitation?"
"Yes. Don't hurt Ethan. I'm on my way."
"Good. But there's been a change of plans. Come to the docks instead. Warehouse 7." " But the note said—" "The note was wrong. Warehouse 7 at the docks. One minute late, and your friend dies."
The call ended. Alex hit the steering wheel in anger. The docks were in the opposite way. He'd never make it by 1 AM.
Unless...
Alex made a sharp turn, going for the bridge. It was the fastest way to the docks, but also the most dangerous—especially at night, with the building.
As he sped across the bridge, his phone lit up with a text. It was from Ethan's phone:
"DON'T COME. IT'S A TRAP."