When Rivals Collide

The world spun violently, and in that dizzying moment, I thought I saw Brandon charging toward me, his eyes wild with panic.

When I woke up in the hospital, my mind was foggy, but the throbbing pain in my skull served as a relentless reminder: Staying with Brandon was dangerous.

I didn’t know what he was capable of next. I had to leave.

But without money or power, and trapped within Brandon’s territory, escape was impossible, let alone taking my mother with me.

Suddenly, the hospital room door creaked open.

A chill slithered down my spine as I recognized the man standing there—unfamiliar, yet somehow known.

“Fabian Mortensen?”

“You know me,” he said simply.

The man’s calm and composed demeanor filled the room as he slowly walked to my bedside.

He looked down at me, then smiled faintly.

“Makes sense. After all the time you spent with Brandon, you’d know who his rival is.”

“What are you doing here?” I forced myself upright as I eyed him with caution. His methods were no more merciful than Brandon’s.

“Relax. I just want to ask a favor of you, Miss Tolkien,” he said softly.

“My younger sister needs a bone marrow transplant, but her blood type is rare. The hospital’s tests show you're a strong match.

“I know this is sudden, but if you agree, I’ll reward you generously.”

My heart skipped a beat.

This was my chance.

I fought to steady my nerves and met Fabian’s gaze.

“I’ll do it, but you have to get my mother out of here first. And when it’s done, I want you to make sure Brandon can never find us again.”

There was a brief silence.

My heart raced. I knew this wouldn’t be easy, and that this offer carried veiled threats, but I had no choice. I had to take the risk.

“Deal,” he nodded.

His deep, steady voice settled something in me. For the first time in a while, I exhaled.

That afternoon, Brandon arrived.

I flinched when I saw him.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked as he reached out to touch my forehead.

I instinctively recoiled.

When I realized what I’d done, I inhaled sharply. I was terrified that I’d upset him.

It felt like any misstep at that point could provoke something dangerous in him and derail my escape.

But the storm I’d braced for never came.

Brandon simply withdrew his hand and opened the food container he had brought.

“It’s all your favorites,” he said as he scooped a spoonful of soup.

He blew on it gently and held it to my lips.

I stared at his calm, unreadable expression.

I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Still, I didn’t dare refuse. I forced myself to sip.

He seemed relieved and reached out to pat my head, like one might soothe a pet that had finally learned its lesson.

“That’s better,” he said with satisfaction. “If you continue to behave like this, you’ll suffer less.”

It took me a moment to register his words. Then a bitter wave of irony washed over me.

So he hadn’t softened out of pity.

He was simply playing the “good cop,” using kindness as another form of control, an act meant to keep me obedient.

I swallowed my rising emotions and forced a small smile.

Over the next few days in the hospital, Brandon visited me daily, bringing gifts, food, and care.

His gentle patience made me momentarily feel like I’d been transported back to how things once were.

But I couldn’t understand his behavior.

Could it be guilt? Regret?

Impossible.

He didn’t love me.

All he ever felt for me was hatred inherited from my father’s mistake.

And now, he had Leslie by his side.

As the date of my discharge crept closer, Fabian still hadn’t sent word.

Anxiety tightened in my chest.

I treaded even more carefully around Brandon, terrified he’d sense something was off and ruin any chance I had of escaping with my mother.

Then, finally, news came.

Fabian had arranged everything.

The night before the plan was set in motion, I slipped away to see my mother but found her bed empty.

The panic almost floored me.

Just then, a nurse informed me that my mother had suffered heart failure an hour ago and had been rushed into emergency surgery.

I ran to the operating room, and when I arrived, the surgical light above the door dimmed.

I grabbed the doctor’s hand as soon as he stepped out.

“How is my mother, Doctor?” I asked desperately.

“I’m sorry. We did everything we could.”

He looked at me with pity, then lowered his head with a sigh.

The devastating news exploded in my mind.

My legs gave out, and I collapsed to the floor, clutching my chest.

The grief was so heavy I couldn’t even cry.

Why?

I had been so close, just one step away from taking my mother and escaping this place to start a new life.

But now, I no longer had a mother.

“What a shame,” a shrill voice said from somewhere above me.

“You didn’t even get to see her one last time.”

I looked up to see Leslie.

When I didn’t respond, she kept going.

“Did you think that Brandon didn’t know you asked Fabian to help you escape? Don’t be so naive.

“Your mother’s death was a warning from him.”

“What do you mean?” I shot to my feet and grabbed her wrist with trembling hands.

“Are you saying he killed my mother?”

Leslie was startled.

“I—I didn’t say that!” she stammered.

Yet her panic and fear only confirmed what she had just let slip.

It was Brandon. He killed my mother.

An overwhelming wave of guilt swallowed me whole, and the ache in my chest threatened to tear me to pieces.

He was ruthless, just as I feared, using my mother’s life to teach me a lesson.

“Tiana…”

Brandon’s voice rang out behind me.

He had arrived.