Chapter 7:Watcher In The Chair

Maddison's POV 

Far away, in the quiet, leather-scented black car, Grant Harrison looked over the last business statistics on his tablet, and the statistics were good but his mind was elsewhere. They were back on a face from earlier that day, a flame-smart face of devotion, he had seen marvelous things in Maddison Carter, a hidden deep strength most people lacked. He had offered her an offer, and she turned it down, the reaction was dismal but not a defeat because Grant Harrison never conceded defeat.

"There is a crash ahead, sir. It seems like the traffic has come to a halt," declared his driver, Charles, speaking clear and composed.

Grant looked away from his tablet, his eyes focusing on what was in front of him; strobes off of a police car who had pulled up just lit the wet road with moments of red and blue, then he noticed the crowd of people, the overturned bike, and something small and white on the ground.

“Pull over, Charles," Grant spoke fast and firm. Something was wrong. He had a sharp instinct and it was the same instinct that helped him through many tough business battles that told him to watch closely.

The car stopped, and Grant opened the door first and got out into the night. He walked with determined strength through the crowd, and as they saw his costly suit and heavy muscles, they moved aside in silence.

He reached the center of the small circle and his breath caught and on the pavement, her pale face lit by the street lamps, was Maddison Carter. Out across the pavement lay her black hair and by her side, half in a dirty puddle, was her diploma, the red ribbon fading bit by bit in the water, and it was the same red ribbon that he had seen on stage a few hours before.

The shaken bikeman was trying to describe to a police officer what happened. "She just ran out, I couldn't stop."

Grant bent down on his knees, not caring about the dirty ground spoiling his pricey pants, he brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead. Her skin felt cold and he checked her pulse on her neck. There was the beat, muted but persistent, and then in an instant a flood of protective feeling came over him. He would not let her life be taken like this, he would not let someone so gifted as she was be lost over a single misstep on a city street at a bad moment in the night.

"I know her," Grant responded, his voice above the noise, deep and authoritative before anyone moved to look at him. "I am going to take her to the hospital. My car is right here."

The officer looked at him, calculating the nice car and the powerful man. "Sir, we need to wait for the ambulance."

Grant's eyes narrowed. "The ambulance can follow us to Harrison Private Medical Center. She will be treated well in the city, and she will be treated immediately." He nodded toward Charles who was already by his side with open hands. "Charles, help me.".

They both gently picked up Maddison's unconscious form, and as they held her, Grant sensed how delicate she was, so unlike the tough individual he recognized. He noticed the life she had run away from and the life he had wished to provide for her, and now it was no longer about a job offer anymore, but a rescue effort. 

The Next Day…

The first thing to break through the heavy, soft darkness was a smell; It wasn't a bad smell, it was quite clean and bright, smelling like bleach and medicine. Next came the pain, an ache in her right hip that throbbed in time to a slow, rhythmic beep to her left, and Maddison's eyes were heavy and stuck shut, but she forced them open. Light filled her sight, so she closed her eyes once more, then squinted once, twice, trying to shake her head.

The ceiling was white and bare and the sheets on her were very white and tight against her, a small tube taped to the back of her hand extended up to a clear bag suspended on a metal rod. The beeping was from a small device on her bedside table, its screen flashing up and down with her pulse in a green line. It was a hospital room, but one unlike any she had ever experienced since it contained no other beds, no sounds of corridors, no blaring fluorescent lights. The air was quiet and light poured in through a large window that let in a gray morning sky.

Her head snapped on the firm pillow, leaving her with a stiff neck, and then she saw him.

A man in a chair next to the window, his figure was black against the brightness, he sat still, one leg crossed over the other, his arms resting on the chair arms. Even in the dim light, she knew the sharp shape of his jaw and the fancy style of his dark suit. It was Grant Harrison; the billionaire from her graduation, the man whose business card she had thrown away.

A shiver ran through her, one stronger than the ache in her hip, and her body stiffened beneath the blankets. He wasn't her hero. He was a warning sign, why had he shown up? How did he find her? The questions ran around in her head that was already filled with confusion and building fear. Since Tyler, having a confident, dominant man watch over her when she was weak felt like danger.

He tilted his head slightly, and she was aware that he had seen her waking up but he did not get up, he just looked at her with his face not showing his thoughts from the opposite side of the room.

"Maddison," he said. His voice was the same voice she had remembered in the school yard, deep and smooth, but here within the silence of the hospital, it was different. It was peaceful but took over the room entirely.

She tried to talk, but her throat was dry and only a rough sound came out. She swallowed hard, it hurt. “Where… where am I?” she said at last, a soft whisper.

“You’re at Harrison Private Medical Center,” he said, his tone flat. “You’re safe.”

Safe? The term seemed out of place because at that time, she did not consider herself safe, she felt caged like a specimen on a microscope. Then, she rocked up on her elbows, gasping as pain went through her hip again.

Grant was on his feet in a flash, walking rapidly across the room, he loomed above her, looking down. Now she could see his face clearly. His dark eyes were focused, intently only on her and from what she could sense, there were no smile lines around them, it was completely a serious look.

“Don't get up,” he said to her, his voice relaxing but firmly. "You have a little dislocation and concussion. The doctors said that you were fortunate."

Fortunate. The recollection hit her hard, like a blow; the apartment door, Brooke's proud smile, Tyler's ugly laugh, running down the cold street, the rider's horrified eyes, and the wrinkled diploma all flashed through her mind. Her life had collapsed and this was not good fortune for her, this was what came next. Scorched tears rose up in her eyes but she decided that she would not weep before him.

“What exactly happened?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly. "How did I get here?