Ten

The air in the dining room froze with Isabelle’s scream.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Riven’s chair scraped sharply against the marble floor. Before the shock could even register to everyone else, he was already by the boy’s side. He squatted on one knee; just in time for Isabelle to come to her senses and rush over as he pressed his palm over the boy’s small chest.

“Ryan…” she gasped breathlessly.

Riven looked up at her, regarding her expression as she stared at him hoping for him to say something good.

“He’s breathing.” He muttered coolly a second later, drawing a breath of relief from Isabelle.

Tiffany’s heels clicked once in his direction once she heard him speak. “What’s happening?”

He didn’t look at her. One arm slid under Ryan’s knees, the other cradling his head, and he rose in one effortless motion.

Isabelle’s breath caught as she stared, frantic and unable to do anything. Her son’s head lolled against Riven’s shoulder, his lips tinged a sickly pale. Her pulse roared in her ears at the sight as she hurriedly stumbled after him.

Just then, the front door slammed open.

“What the hell—?” Gregory’s voice thundered from the stairwell. He was halfway down, wine bottle swinging loosely in his grip.

When his eyes fell on Ryan limp in Riven’s arms, the glass neck tightened under his fingers. “What happened to him?!”

Riven didn’t slow and strode out of the foyer.

Gregory hissed with displeasure at being ignored and quickly crossed over halting Isabelle in her steps.

Isabelle frowned immediately. Her gaze shot up to Gregory, her voice breaking as she shoved him hard. “Get out of the way!”

Then, she rushed out after Riven and grabbed Aimee’s hand along the way.

Outside, Julien, Riven’s assistant was leaning against the hood of the car, phone pressed to his ear, and a lazy grin on his face.

He opened the front door of the car as he spoke, “Yeah, boss just gave me a vacation. I’ll be there tonight—” The sound of a door crashing open cut him short however.

He turned and his easy grin vanished when he caught sight of Riven tearing across the driveway with a limp child in his arms. Isabelle was as pale as death as she ran after them, holding Aimee’s hand.

Julien instantly ended the call mid-sentence, tossing the phone into the passenger seat before rushing over to them.

“Boss—?”

“Open the back,” Riven ordered.

Julien was already moving, yanking open the rear door. Riven slid into the backseat, laying Ryan gently across it while Isabelle slid in on Ryan’s right side, her trembling hands cradling his arm. On the other side, Aimee climbed in without a word, her small frame tense. Her amber eyes flitted from Ryan’s still face to Isabelle’s wet lashes and she hugged her small backpack closer.

“Drive,” Riven said, settling in the front passenger seat.

Julien didn’t ask where and immediately took for the nearest hospital. The tires shrieked against asphalt as the car zoomed out of the driveway.

Several cars streaked past them in yellow blurs as Julien floored the car, maybe triggering a few red lights along the way.

Isabelle’s pulse roared in her ears as she brushed Ryan’s cheek over and over, whispering his name like a prayer. “Ryan… Ryan…”

She kept staring at his face, willing him to open his eyes. She held him tightly, placing a hand over his forehead and it was too cold. Her own vision blurred at that, and she blinked hard, but the tears only came faster.

On the other side, Aimee’s hands were clenched tightly in her lap, her lips pressed white. Riven’s gaze also flicked to the rear view just then. He regarded her for a moment before he spoke.

“Talk to him.”

Isabelle looked up at him in confusion.

“Keep talking to him. He needs to hear you.” he explained, his tone low but urgent.

Isabelle nodded shakily. She swallowed, leaning close to her son. “Ryan… baby, it’s Mama. You’re okay. Just hold on for me, please—” Her voice cracked.

Aimee shifted slightly as Isabelle spoke, still silent, but her gaze darted between mother and son.

The city lights blurred past. The hospital came into view faster than Isabelle expected, although the drive felt endless.

Julien swung into the ER bay in one sharp turn. The car had barely stopped when Riven opened the door, lifting Ryan effortlessly. Isabelle was right behind him, nearly tripping in her haste.

The hospital doors slid open in a rush of antiseptic air and fluorescent glare. It was noisy with patients and staff shuffling about and the tires of gurneys shrieking against the marble floors but none of them cared for it.

“I’ll go handle the paperwork,” Julien told Riven as he immediately rushed to the counter. Meanwhile, the ER staff met Riven halfway and two nurses converged immediately.

“What happened?” one of them asked, already pushing a stretcher forward.

“Cake…he’s allergic,” Isabelle blurted out, breathless. “He has congenital heart condition and he can’t take—” Her words tangled in panic as she spoke.

But the nurses seemed to understand instantly.

“Ma’am, step back,” the nurse urged, guiding the stretcher toward the ER doors.

“No, I have to—” Isabelle tried to follow, but the nurse blocked her path.

“No, you can’t come in.”

Isabelle”s face fell once she heard that. The rejection cracked something inside her, and the tears came hard and fast.

The nurse shifted uncomfortably at that and was about to explain when Riven stepped forward, his shadow falling over Isabelle.

“Let them do their job,” his voice was steady, and almost emotionless. “Take a seat. You need to breathe.”

Isabelle looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He didn’t touch her, only inclined his head toward a bench against the wall. But, something in his tone anchored her. She nodded shakily, letting him guide her to the bench.

She settled down on it and clasped her palm shakily.

As the ER doors swung shut, the weight of everything all crashed down on her. Today was his birthday. She had hoped everything would go well and ease the tension in her family a bit. But who knew something unexpected like this would happen and he would be on the verge of death?

Isabelle immediately buried her head in her palms at the thought and a tear fell.

“It’s my fault,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I wasn’t careful enough. I should have…” Her words slowly dissolved into sobs.

Riven said nothing. His gaze flickered from the doors to her and he pursed his lips.

But Aimee, who had been hovering silently, hesitated before rummaging in her small bag. She pulled out a folded pink napkin and held it out with stiff fingers.

Isabelle froze, startled as her small hand came into her line of sight. She looked up to Aimee and found her looking down, not meeting her eyes as she held out the napkin.

A certain feeling of warmth suddenly washed over Isabelle.

Although Aimee seemed a bit open to her presence, she had never seen the girl initiate anything. Not even a smile.

From the corner of his eye, Riven raised a brow, also taken aback.

A tiny smile came onto Isabelle’s lips at the girl’s gesture and her tense heart seemed to find a bit of relief.

“Thank you, sweetheart” she murmured, accepting the napkin with shaking hands. She pressed it to her eyes, her shoulders still trembling.

Just then, hurried footsteps echoed down the hospital corridor. Gregory came into view first, half-running, his outer shirt askew as he must have just found something to put on in his rush. Tiffany followed a few paces behind, her heels clicking, not as rushed as he was though.

Isabelle and Riven were also attracted by the sudden noise and they looked over, each having a different reaction.

A small frown appeared on her lips when she saw Gregory coming over so belatedly but her expression only descended further into a scowl when she saw who was behind him. Riven however had no change of expression and merely glanced at both of them coldly before turning his eyes back to the door of the emergency room.

Likewise, Gregory’s pace faltered the instant his gaze landed on them — Isabelle, seated on the narrow bench with her head bowed, Aimee leaning close beside her, and Riven standing at the end of the bench, one shoulder against the wall, arms loosely folded.

From his perspective, Riven’s face held no expression as usual but strangely, he gave off a gentle feeling whenever his gaze fell on Isabelle. Isabelle’s eyes were red-rimmed, her lashes clumped with unshed tears. Aimee sat close to her side in silence.

The three of them, in that moment, looked almost like a family.

The thought struck Gregory like a slap, a flicker of something raw and ugly tightening his chest. His discomfort flared into something hotter as he remembered the way Riven had looked right through him earlier when they left the house, as if he were nothing more than background noise.

He could not help but feel a surge of fury at the thought.

He closed the remaining distance in quick strides, voice already sharp before he’d reached them.

“What exactly happened?”