The Sound of Shattering

Chapter 07

The sound of crashing glass cut through the quiet halls.

Tessa froze upstairs—then bolted. Her heart hammered as she tore down the stairs, her bare feet thudding against the marble.

At the bottom, chaos had erupted. Maids were gathered in a trembling circle near the dining hall, their voices overlapping in panicked whispers. Plates lay shattered, juice splattered across the floor like paint.

And in the middle of it all—Teresa knelt on the cold marble, clutching Luna to her chest.

The little girl’s face was ghostly pale, her small hands clawing weakly at her throat. Her eyes were wide, glossy with terror, her tiny body shaking.

“Luna!!” Tessa screamed, pushing through the crowd. The maids stepped aside instantly, their faces frozen in horror. She dropped to her knees, pulling Luna into her arms.

“What happened?!” she cried. “What’s wrong with her?! Somebody—get the driver! Now!”

Luna gasped helplessly, her lips turning a faint shade of blue. Her fingers gripped Tessa’s dress, desperate and trembling. Sweat rolled down her forehead as she wheezed for air.

“Oh my God,” one of the maids whispered, covering her mouth. “She can’t breathe…”

“Move!” Tessa barked, her voice trembling with fear and fury. “Clear the way!”

Teresa scrambled for the phone, her hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped it. “Calling an ambulance! Calling—”

“Do it faster!” Tessa shouted, her voice breaking as tears blurred her sight. “Please!”

Around them, the maids hovered helplessly—some crying quietly, others praying under their breath. One fetched water. Another ran for a towel.

Tessa clutched Luna close, her tears falling onto the child’s trembling skin. She could feel the weak flutter of her heartbeat—fragile, fading.

“Breathe, baby… please, breathe,” she whispered frantically. “It’s okay, Aunt Tess is here. Just breathe for me, please.”

Luna’s eyes fluttered, her tiny hand reaching up weakly—then falling limp against Tessa’s chest.

“No, no, no—stay with me!” Tessa sobbed, rocking her in her arms. “Hold on, bunny… please hold on!”

The sirens wailed faintly in the distance as the mansion filled with cries, footsteps, and whispered prayers—echoing through the grand halls that had never felt so cold.

~~~VOSS ENTERTAINMENT~~~

The evening sun spilled through the glass walls of the towering skyscraper that bore Kingsley’s name. He stood by the window, silent, his eyes fixed on the photo in his hand — Tessa and Luna at the amusement park, both smiling as if the world outside didn’t exist.

His jaw tightened. “How dare she take my daughter out without my permission,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual edge. The longer he stared at Luna’s joyful face, the harder it was to stay angry.

The door swung open suddenly. Vince, his manager, hurried in, his expression pale.

“Sir!”

Kingsley turned sharply. “What is it?”

Vince swallowed hard. “It’s… Little Miss Luna.”

Kingsley’s brow furrowed. “What about her?”

“She’s—” Vince’s voice faltered, breath uneven. “She’s in the hospital, sir.”

The room fell silent. The photo slipped from Kingsley’s hand and landed face down on the floor.

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then his voice came, rough and quiet. “Luna…”

Without another word, he snatched his jacket from the chair and strode out of the office, the air around him heavy with a storm of fear and something else—something that almost sounded like relief.

~~~HOSPITAL~~~

The car barely stopped before Kingsley yanked the door open. The hospital lights ahead felt too bright, too far away.

“Sir, wait!” Vince grabbed his arm.

“Let go of me!” Kingsley’s voice cracked with panic. “I need to see her—now!”

“Sir, please, not like this.” Vince’s tone was urgent but careful. “You’ll draw attention. You can’t be seen here, not in this state.”

Kingsley dragged his hands through his hair, pacing once before exhaling sharply. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

“Fine,” he muttered, half to himself.

Vince handed him a cap and a mask, his eyes full of worry. “Just keep your head down, sir.”

Kingsley didn’t answer. He adjusted the mask and pushed through the hospital doors, the smell of disinfectant and distant beeping machines hitting him all at once.

He walked straight to the front desk, his steps unsteady. “Someone named Luna Voss,” he said, his tone barely steady. “She was brought in not long ago.”

The nurse glanced up from her computer. “Alright, sir, please calm down. Let me check.”

Kingsley tapped the counter impatiently, his breathing uneven. “Please hurry,” he muttered, his fingers trembling.

The nurse hesitated, typing, then frowned slightly. Her eyes lingered on him. Something about his presence — the quiet authority, the tension — seemed familiar.

“Sir…” she said softly, “you look… I’m sorry, but are you—”

“I just need the room number,” he interrupted sharply, trying to keep his voice low.

The nurse blinked, startled by his tone. Around them, a few people glanced over, curious.

The sound carried across the waiting room.

Heads turned. Whispers began.

“Wait—he looks like…”

“No way… that’s Kingsley Voss!”

“Oh my God, it’s really him!”

The whispers burst into chaos.

Phones came up instantly—flashes, cameras, voices calling his name.

“Kingsley! Just one photo!”

“Sir, please—autograph!”

“King! King, look here!”

He cursed under his breath and backed away, pulling the cap lower over his face.

“Damn it…”

Vince was nowhere in sight. The crowd pressed in closer, a blur of hands and noise.

He pushed through them, fast and rough. The hallway twisted ahead like a maze, nurses shouting for order behind him. The cameras followed, the voices echoing—his name bouncing off sterile white walls.

He turned sharply down another hall, breath ragged, almost colliding with a gurney. His pulse thundered.

“Sir, wait—!” someone shouted behind him.

He didn’t. He kept running.

Then—

A hand shot out from the shadows, gripping his wrist and yanking him through a narrow door.

He stumbled forward, slamming against the wall as the door shut behind him.

“What the hell—” he started, spinning around—

And froze.

“Tessa…”

She stood there under the harsh stairwell light, her face streaked with tears, her breathing unsteady. She looked like someone who had been crying for hours—eyes red, lips trembling, hands clenched so tight her knuckles had gone white.

Kingsley tore off the cap and mask, his voice breaking. “Where is she? What happened?”

Tessa just stared at him. No words. No movement. Just silence thick enough to make the air heavy.

He took a step closer, desperate. “Tessa, please—just tell me she’s okay.”

Her lips quivered. Then—

SLAP!

The sound echoed through the stairwell, sharp and hollow. His head jerked to the side, his cheek burning.

For a moment, there was only the echo of their breathing.

“Now you care?” Her voice cracked, trembling with anger and grief. “Now you want to ask questions?”

He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

“Tessa, I—”

“She’s just a little girl,” she cut him off, her eyes glistening. “A child who’s been through more pain than you could ever imagine—and you…” her voice broke, “you weren’t there.”

He reached out, but she shoved his hand away.

“Don’t,” she whispered, wiping her tears roughly. “You don’t get to act like you care now.”

He stood there, trembling, unable to breathe.

Her voice softened, but it only made it worse. “I hope every time you close your eyes, you see what you’ve done. I hope regret is the only thing that keeps you awake at night.”

“I hope this night never leaves your memory,” she whispered. “I hope it haunts you like it haunts me.”

And without another glance, she turned and walked out, the sound of her steps fading into the silence.

Kingsley stood there, frozen. The weight in his chest pressed harder with every second that passed. The muffled sounds of the hospital filtered in through the walls — footsteps, murmurs, distant cries.

He leaned back against the cold wall, his cap falling from his hand. His breath trembled.

For years, he had built walls no one could climb. But now, all it took was silence — and the thought of her — to tear them down.

He sank slowly to the floor, his reflection flickering in the polished tile beneath him.

And in a voice that barely reached the air, he whispered the name again — the one he couldn’t say aloud to anyone else.

“Luna…” he whispered — as if saying her name could bring her back.