#7:

I hadn’t had the chance to properly explain my abrupt departure to Faye.

As I was leaving our room, I came across her grandfather and parents outside. Their expressions mirrored my own shock at my hurried exit.

“I apologize for any disappointment, but I need to step out for a moment. My mother is currently in the hospital, and I must check on her well-being,” I said, my tone rushed.

Without waiting for a reply, I hurried past them and quickly descended the stairs from the third floor to the first.

Each hurried step brought me closer to the main entrance, where I found Clark just as I was about to leave. Our eyes briefly met, but I quickly looked away and kept moving.

“Where are you going?”

I heard him ask, but I didn’t have time to respond; I pressed on until I reached my car. Just as I was about to open the door, a hand grasped my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

“You seem quite tense; you might accidentally cause an accident if you leave like this.”

“I can drive just fine; so, let go of my hand,” I replied firmly.

I jerked my hand away from his grasp, but he held on tight. In a swift move, he pulled me from the driver's side and around to the passenger door.

The door swung open, and before I could voice any objections, he forcefully pushed me inside the car.

As I settled into the seat, he slammed the door shut with enough force to convey that resistance was not an option.

Confusion and anger furrowed my brow as I watched him approach the driver's seat.

Climbing in, he turned to me with a smirk.

"I'm just doing this as a favor for my niece," he remarked, the atmosphere thick with intimidation. "You wouldn’t want her to become a widow right away on your wedding night, would you? Imagine the headlines if you were to get into an accident."

"Then, take me to the hospital, Uncle-in-law," I said, clenching my fist as I spoke.

He chuckled at my words before starting the engine and driving me to the hospital.

As we made our way down the road, silence filled the space between us. He didn't attempt to engage me in conversation, and I had no desire to speak to him either.

After nearly an hour on the road, we finally arrived at the hospital.

Without taking a moment to thank Clark, I jumped out of the car and rushed inside, searching for my mother's ward.

Although she is not my biological mother, she embraced me as her own after my real mother tragically died in a car accident.

My memories of that day are hazy, having lost many of them in the aftermath of the crash.

I was just thirteen at the time, and a year later, my father remarried a woman who is fifteen years younger than him and ten years older than me.

Despite the unusual dynamics of our family, my stepmother treated me like her own child, showering me with parental care even after she had her own children with my dad.

In appreciation for the love and support she provided when I needed a mother the most, I have always tried to be a good son to her, as her eldest son.

"Angelo!"

As I approached, my stepmother exclaimed, and the surprise on her face was unmistakable.

"What are you doing here? You should be with your wife today; it’s your wedding night!" she remarked, her concern for my well-being evident.

"Of course, I’m worried about you. What happened? Why are you in the hospital?"

"Did your dad tell you?" Instead of answering, she asked. It was clear she didn’t want to divulge too much. "I told him not to disturb you since it was your first night with your wife. It’s just a little scratch," she insisted.

"Scratch? What really happened?" I pressed on.

"I dropped off one of my friends who came to your wedding," she explained. "On my way home, a motorcycle suddenly overtook me, and I lost control of the car, crashing into a wall."

My fists clenched with concern as the realization set in.

"What? Did that motorcycle get caught?" I asked, alarmed.

"Your dad is handling that at the moment, but don’t worry. It’s just a small scratch," she reassured me.

“Well then, where is Hannah?” I asked, my concern bubbling to the surface after learning the unsettling truth about my stepmother's accident.

“She’s at the mansion,” came the reply, tinged with a hint of urgency. “She doesn’t know what happened, so don’t mention it to your sister. We don’t want her to worry at such a young age.”

I nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. My sister, only eight years old and our beloved little princess, deserved to be sheltered from such painful realities.

Just as I was pondering how best to convey this delicate situation, the door swung open. My gaze shifted, and I saw Clark—the man who had brought me to the hospital—entering with an air of intent.

Yet, his focus was not on me; it was fixed unmistakably on my stepmother. A frown creased my brow as I observed the intensity of his stare.

Did he find her attractive? I couldn’t deny that my stepmother was strikingly beautiful, a quality that had surely enchanted my father upon their first meeting, especially in her youth. Even now, at this moment of vulnerability, she retained an undeniable allure.

My eyes darted back to my stepmother, and to my surprise, I found her attention drifting toward Clark.

“Mom!” I called to her, breaking her trance.

She blinked and briefly looked back at me before returning her focus to Clark.

“Hi, Mrs. Hernandez, how are you?” Clark greeted her formally as he approached, standing beside me.

The tension that had hung in the air during their earlier, shared glance seemed to dissolve.

“You saw him at my wedding, Mom,” I reminded her, just in case she didn't recall Clark.

“Yes, he is Faye’s uncle, right?” she replied.

“That’s correct, Mrs. Hernandez,” Clark said with a polite smile. “Should I formally introduce myself? It would symbolize the unity of our two families.”

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes still on Clark.

“Clark Alcaide,” he introduced himself.

“I’m Sanya, Angelo’s stepmother,” she replied, her curiosity piqued. “And why are you here, by the way?” she inquired again.

“Well, I noticed that your stepson was a bit distracted earlier, so I thought I’d check on him,” Clark explained.

“Oh! Thank you. His dad exaggerated a bit, but he knew he shouldn’t bother the newlyweds,” she acknowledged.

“Hmm,” Clark nodded modestly. “You’re right, but your husband must be worried that no one will look after you, which is why he sent your stepson.”

“There’s a personal nurse to take care of me, so please, Mr. Alcaide, if you’re heading back, could you take Angelo with you? He shouldn’t leave his wife, especially on their first night as a married couple.”

“No need, Mom. I’ll stay here with you until Dad returns,” I interjected.

“Yes, Mrs. Hernandez, it’s better this way. Your family will be here to support you, and this isn’t the only night the couple will be together.” Clark added.

“But...”

“No more buts, Mom,” I cut her off before she could object.

I turned to Clark, who still wore that peculiar expression as he regarded my stepmother.

“Uncle-in-law, thanks for bringing me here earlier. You don’t need to wait for me anymore; you can take my car to go home,” I encouraged him gently.

“Okay then,” he replied, yet his eyes lingered on my stepmother until he finally turned away to say his goodbye.

He didn’t even glance back at me as he exited the ward.

I couldn’t help but wonder: was he experiencing love at first sight with my stepmother?