Chapter 4 : “Good heavens, Cedric,”

Ella couldn’t help but smile. The sight before her was nothing short of delightful — eight fully grown men, all tall and successful in their own right, now looking like a pack of schoolboys about to be scolded by their headmistress.

Tiffany Summers, barely five feet tall but radiating pure authority, stood before them with her arms folded and her tone sharp enough to cut glass. Her sons — particularly Thornton and Draven — were on the receiving end of her lecture for deciding, in their infinite wisdom, not to tell her about Clarabelle’s accident.

Meanwhile, Cedric Summers — her ever-patient husband and the calm to her storm — quietly slipped away from the chaos. His charm was understated, his presence warm. He approached Ella and Qingshan with a polite smile, the faintest trace of exhaustion in his expression.

“Good evening,” he greeted cordially. Then a frown appeared between his brows. “I should probably go and give your husbands a good telling-off for letting you stay here all night when you ought to be tucked up in bed.”

He turned to Qingshan, concern softening his voice. “Especially you, my dear. You’re not just looking after yourself anymore — you’ve got a little one to think about.”

Qingshan offered a reassuring smile, brushing off his concern. “I’m quite alright. I couldn’t let Declan face this on his own. Someone had to make sure he got here safely.”

Cedric sighed but smiled faintly. “I suppose you’ve got a point. Still, the doctor says Clara’s out of danger and resting. You should both head home.” His kind eyes shifted to Ella. “That goes for you as well, Ella. There’s nothing more to be done tonight. Visiting hours aren’t until morning.”

He glanced across to where Ava, Thornton’s wife, sat with her coat clutched tightly around her. “Same goes for you, Ava. Don’t you have an early shoot tomorrow?”

Ava smiled tiredly. “I do, but I can always ring the studio and tell them I won’t make it.”

“No need,” Cedric replied with a gentle shake of his head. “Go home and rest. Clara will be fine — she’s a tough girl. Her mother and I will stay here and keep an eye on her overnight.”

Javier — who had miraculously avoided his mother’s fury so far — crossed the room and slipped an arm around Ella’s waist. “Dad, are you sure you’re staying? Mum said you only just got back from Seattle,” he said, concern lacing his voice.

“I’ll be fine,” Cedric said with an easy wave of his hand.

“Ella and I can stay instead,” Ella said immediately. Her tone was soft but steady. “We don’t have anything important in the morning, and we’ve already had a bit of rest since we got back.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Javier agreed, nodding. “You need the sleep more than we do. We’ll stay here and let you both know if anything happens.”

Before Cedric could respond, Tiffany’s sharp voice carried across the waiting room.

“They told you to go home, didn’t they?”

Cedric turned, guilt flickering briefly across his face as Tiffany approached. One look from her — that knowing, laser-focused stare — and she had the entire situation figured out.

Javier and Cedric exchanged a helpless glance.

“Mum,” Javier said with a sigh, “you should get some rest as well. Ella and I can stay.”

Tiffany’s eyes widened, scandalised. “You’re newlyweds!” she exclaimed, voice dripping with disbelief. “You’re the last people who should be staying here overnight!”

Without missing a beat, she reached out and caught Declan by the arm. “And you — honestly, what were you thinking bringing your very pregnant wife out here at this hour? She’s seven months gone, Declan!”

Declan looked utterly defeated — clearly a man who’d already fought this battle a few times tonight. “You’re the eighth person to say that to me, Mum,” he said with a weary sigh. “My wife insisted on coming, and as a dutiful husband, I simply did as I was told.”

Tiffany gave him a pointed look. “As much as I’d love for your father to do everything I ask, that’s still completely daft. Bringing your pregnant wife to sit in a freezing hospital waiting room at four in the morning? Honestly.”

From behind her, Cedric chuckled quietly. “Once upon a time, you might’ve called that romantic.”

Tiffany turned just enough to glare over her shoulder. “Not now, Cedric. Unless you fancy me calling you C-Bear in front of the boys.”

Cedric didn’t even flinch. “You can call me whatever you like, my dear Tiffy,” he said smoothly, his lips twitching with amusement.

“For heaven’s sake,” she muttered, shaking her head as Ella bit back a laugh.

“Anyway,” Tiffany said briskly, cutting him off before he could add another word, “I’m not letting you stay here, Javier. You or Ella. You’ve only just been married!”

“We’ve been married for over a month, Mother,” Javier said, sounding exasperated. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, wondering why he was arguing with his mother at four in the morning.

“Well, you only got back today,” Tiffany replied, her tone that perfect mix of chastisement and affection that could make even grown men feel like children again.

“We rested during the day,” Ella said gently before Javier could respond. Her voice was soft but sure, and Tiffany blinked in mild surprise. It wasn’t often that Ella stepped in between her and her son when they were sparring.

Still, Tiffany adored Ella — she was kind, grounded, and utterly devoted to Javier. A proper sweetheart, through and through.

“We’ll be fine, Mom,” Ella said with an easy smile.

That did it. Tiffany’s expression softened almost immediately. No matter how many daughters-in-law she’d gained over the years, she was still a mother to her core — and that one word, Mom, never failed to melt her resolve.

“If you’re quite sure you don’t mind,” Tiffany drawled, though there was a trace of fondness beneath the words.

“They don’t mind,” Cedric cut in before either Javier or Ella could speak. His voice was calm, with that quiet amusement that came from long years of marriage.

“I’m just making sure,” Tiffany huffed, lifting her chin a little.

Cedric shrugged lightly. “They’re the ones who offered, darling. If they minded, they wouldn’t have said so.”

“Good heavens, Cedric,” Tiffany sighed, though the corners of her mouth twitched with affection. “Here we are, still bickering after thirty-something years of marriage — Lord only knows how many, exactly.”

Her voice was playful, but the worry in her eyes betrayed her. She’d barely slept before realising something was wrong. When she’d found Declan’s room empty, she’d immediately summoned Jeremiah Ford, their long-time butler, to find out what was going on. Jeremiah had been with the family for more than thirty years — and there was almost nothing the man couldn’t do. Tracking the GPS on one of the family cars, the one Declan had taken, had been almost too easy for him.

“Thirty-nine,” Cedric corrected, raising an eyebrow. “Thirty-nine years and ten months.”

Tiffany’s lips curved into a smirk. “And look who’s counting.”

“I am,” Cedric said simply. He leaned forward and tapped her nose, eyes glinting with mischief. “Even if there wasn’t a reminder in sight, I’d still remember the day I married the woman I love most.”

Tiffany let out a quiet laugh, pretending to roll her eyes. “If only you’d realised that sooner, I might’ve had time to choose a proper wedding dress — one that didn’t have to hide five months of pregnancy.”

“Alright, alright,” Draven interrupted with a smirk, his accent cutting through the air like velvet. “Why don’t you two lovebirds call it a night — maybe even relive your wedding evening while you’re at it?”

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, earning himself a sharp smack on the shoulder.

“Ow! No need for violence, Mother,” he said, grinning. “Especially not toward your favourite son. You’ll make the others terribly jealous.”

Tiffany ignored him entirely, her gaze settling once again on Javier and Ella. “Do keep me updated, will you? If there’s any progress, any change at all, I want to know straight away.”

Then her voice softened, the command melting into concern. “Please.”

“Of course,” Ella said warmly, her tone filled with quiet reassurance.

Tiffany gave a small nod, her stern composure finally easing. For now, at least, she could rest knowing her children — and the woman she thought of as a daughter — had things in hand.

A few minutes later, the waiting room had finally quieted down. The rest of the Summers family — along with Tiffany and Cedric — had headed home, all of them exhausted and emotionally drained. Declan and Qingshan went with them, the latter already half-asleep against her husband’s shoulder.

That left only three behind: Javier, Ella, and Draven.

The hospital corridor was still and sterile, humming faintly under fluorescent lights. The trio had just gathered their things and were about to leave when hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.

A young man appeared at the far end, running full tilt toward them. His clothes were damp with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead, eyes frantic.

“Where’s Clarabelle?” he demanded breathlessly, looking between them. “How is she?”

Draven stepped forward, calm but alert, his accent cutting through the quiet. “She’s recuperating,” he said evenly. “You can’t see her now — visiting hours aren’t ‘til morning.”

His brow arched as he gave the stranger a once-over. “And who exactly are you supposed to be?”

The man leaned forward, catching his breath. “I’m her boyfriend,” he said quickly, his voice strained but steady.

For a moment, no one said a word.

Then Draven’s expression shifted — curiosity flickering into mild disbelief. Slowly, he turned his head toward the corner of the waiting room, where a tall, neatly dressed man sat slouched in a chair — the same one Reed had spoken with earlier that night.

“I thought that was her friend,” Ella said softly, remembering their earlier conversation.

The sweat-drenched man followed Draven’s gaze. His eyebrows shot up, though his tone stayed oddly measured. “Oh — that’s my best friend,” he explained.

There was a beat of silence.

Then, with a sheepish half-shrug, he added, “Who also happens to be Clarabelle’s boyfriend.”

The air went still.

Draven blinked once, his mouth parting slightly before he muttered under his breath, “Oh, bloody hell.”

* * * * * * *

Much to everyone’s disappointment, the hospital’s policy allowed only one person to stay overnight. After a brief debate, it was decided that Ella would stay with Clarabelle while both Javier and Draven found a nearby hotel.

“You two should head out and get some sleep,” Ella said gently, her voice soft but firm. They were all visibly exhausted — their eyes heavy, their movements sluggish. It had been a long, draining night, and even though the worst seemed to have passed, the weight of worry still clung to them. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

Javier nodded, his expression a mix of concern and tenderness. “You too. Try to rest.” He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to the top of her head, his baby-blue eyes locking with hers. “Call me if there’s anything — no matter how small.”

“I will,” Ella promised, rising onto her toes to kiss him softly on the lips. “Don’t worry, everything’s going to be alright.”

Before Javier could reply, Draven looped an arm through his brother’s and started pulling him toward the door.

“Alright, that’s quite enough, lovebirds,” Draven drawled in his smooth British accent, rolling his green eyes skyward. “Honestly, are you two having a moment right now? You’ll see each other again in a few bloody hours.”

Javier exhaled a quiet laugh — half amusement, half resignation — before letting his brother drag him away.

It made perfect sense for Ella to stay with Clarabelle. Aside from being family, she was a woman herself, and Clarabelle would be far more comfortable if she needed help during the night. Still, as she watched her husband and brother-in-law walk down the corridor, she couldn’t help but worry. Draven was talking animatedly about something while Javier nodded absently, clearly only half-listening.

With a soft sigh, Ella turned back toward the hospital room and slipped inside.

Clarabelle’s private suite — one of the hospital’s VVIP rooms — was spacious and warmly lit, nearly three times the size of an ordinary room. Her bed stood in the center, surrounded by quiet machines and soft beeps. To the right, a small sitting area was arranged neatly with two cream-colored sofas, a low coffee table, and a mini-fridge tucked beneath the counter.

On the left stood a smaller visitor’s bed, neatly made with fresh cream bedding that looked almost too elegant to belong in a hospital. The mattress dipped slightly as Ella sat down and fluffed the pillows, exhaustion tugging at her with every movement.

Finally, she stretched out on the bed, facing Clarabelle’s side of the room. Her eyes lingered for a moment on the younger woman’s still figure, pale but peaceful beneath the covers.

“Hang in there, Clara,” she whispered.

The quiet hum of machines filled the space, lulling her into calm. Within minutes, Ella’s eyelids fluttered shut, and she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

—

When the nurse came in for her third round of checks that morning, nothing alarming had occurred. Clarabelle’s condition had improved steadily through the night, and by the time the clock above the door struck six, a quiet rustle came from her bed.

She stirred.

Her fingers rose to shield her eyes as soft daylight spilled through the curtains. She blinked a few times, her voice groggy and dry when she spoke.

“God… what happened?” she mumbled, wincing as she tried to sit up. “Why do I feel sore everywhere?”

Ella, who hadn’t truly slept and had only been resting her eyes through the night, immediately jolted upright at the sound of movement.

“Clara!” she exclaimed, rushing to the bedside without a second thought. Her bare feet hit the cold hospital floor, but she didn’t care. “You’re awake!”

Clarabelle’s hand twitched toward the IV line, and Ella quickly caught it before she could pull the needle out of her vein.

“Hey, easy,” Ella said gently. “Don’t move too much — you’ll hurt yourself.”

Clarabelle blinked, confusion flickering across her face as her eyes darted around the unfamiliar room. The soft beeping of the monitors, the sterile smell, the IV line — it didn’t take long for her to figure out where she was.

“Where am I?” she asked hoarsely. “Why am I in a hospital?”

“You had a car accident last night — on your way home after meeting Autumn,” Ella explained softly, keeping her tone calm but reassuring. “But don’t worry, you’re okay now. That’s what matters.” She helped her sister-in-law ease back against the pillows and reached for the call button on the wall. “Lie back and relax, alright? I’ll get the nurse.”

For a few moments, Clarabelle did as she was told, staring blankly up at the white ceiling while the rhythmic hum of machines filled the silence. Then, all of a sudden, she turned her head sharply, eyes wide.

“Do Mom and Dad know?”

Ella hesitated for a fraction of a second. As much as she wanted to ease Clarabelle’s mind with a harmless lie, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Yes,” she admitted softly. “But don’t worry. Everything’s fine now.”

Clarabelle groaned and sank back into the bed, her hand moving instinctively to her forehead. “They must’ve been worried sick.”

“They were,” Ella said gently, giving her hand a light pat. “We all were.” Then, hoping to shift the conversation onto something less heavy, she added with a small smile, “Oh — and two of your boyfriends were here last night. They seemed pretty worried too.”

Clarabelle’s brows knitted together as she blinked up at Ella. “What boyfriends?”

Ella smirked, clearly amused. “Come on, Clara. You don’t have to be shy. Like Javier, I don’t judge.”

Clarabelle let out a low groan. “No, seriously — what boyfriends?” she said flatly. “I have hookups, sure. Keeps me from going crazy. But boyfriends?” She gave a tired scoff. “I don’t have the time or the patience for that. They get needy, and I’m a busy woman.”

She tilted her head, frowning suspiciously. “So tell me again — who exactly are you referring to?”

Before Ella could answer, the door swung open.

A doctor stepped into the room, clipboard in hand, followed by Nurse Aimee Sonata — her expression professional, though her eyes flicked briefly toward the recovering patient.

The tension in the room shifted instantly, Ella instinctively straightening while Clarabelle’s brows furrowed in confusion.