Chapter 2  A name Worth Remembering

{Anya}

"Come to the hospital now! Your brother was attacked."

The words glared at me from my screen. For a moment, I couldn't move, couldn't think. The sounds of the city dulled into a distant hum, swallowed by the hammering of my pulse. I tried to remain calm. I refused to think the worst had happened, but before I knew it I was running - heels be damned, umbrella forgotten, the cold night air biting at my skin.

I barely remembered hailing a cab. My thoughts raced, tumbling over each other. What happened? Was it an accident or something else? Who would want to hurt my brother? And why?

The sight of the hospital only deepened the dread inside me.

The sterile sting of bleach clung to my throat the moment I stepped through the doors. A woman at the front desk barely looked up as I approached.

"My brother, David Loraine," I panted. "Where is he?"

She scanned her screen, lips pressing into a thin line. "ICU. Third floor."

ICU.

Racing all the way to the elevator. I shoved past a couple arguing near the entrance and slammed my hand against the button, hoping the doors would open faster.

Finally, I was on the third floor. I saw my mom waiting outside the ICU.

She looked small beneath the harsh hospital lighting, arms crossed tight over her chest. Her face was pale, her eyes - red-rimmed and weary - betrayed her fear.

"Mom," I whispered, my voice unsteady.

Her gaze snapped up, and in an instant, she pulled me into a tight embrace. "Oh, An..." Her voice trembled. "They won't let us see him yet." The doctors... they say he's stable, but... his injuries...

"Did they tell you anything?"

She shook her head. "The police are here. They're asking questions but no one has answers."

"Police? What do you mean by police?"

David was attacked... What if? She stopped herself, exhaling sharply.

A thousand questions stormed my mind, but all we could do was wait.

The minutes crawled by. We sat together in silence, only broken by the occasional hushed murmur of nurses passing by.

Finally, after what felt like hours, a nurse approached. "You can see him now."

I rushed inside.

David lay in a hospital bed, tubes snaking from his arms, his face marred with bruises. My mom couldn't see him like this... this had happened to dad too.

"David," I whispered, stepping closer. His eyelids fluttered, and for a brief moment, his gaze found mine.

"Anya..." His voice was barely there, hoarse and weak. "Stop looking so worried, I will be fine."

"What happened?" I cried, tears stinging my eyes.

"There was some sort of attack. Mainstreet. Just the wrong place, wrong time."

I narrowed my eyes. "David."

Looking away, he finally said. "It wasn't random...those goons were there for Alexander Cain."

The tension in my chest cooled tighter.

"What do you mean?"

David sighed. "It wasn't about me. Alex was the target and, as a result, everyone was in danger..."

"And you fought back?"

His silence was all the confirmation I needed. "They didn't leave us a choice. Even after Alex surrendered, they were going to kill innocent people."

Panic and fury stirred within me. My brother wasn't some street brawler - he was a journalist, a dreamer. What the hell was he doing caught in a battle meant for Alexander Cain?

I clenched my fists. "Why were you even with him?"

"... An exclusive interview. "I wanted to surprise you and Mom." He trailed off.

He was exhausted. The questions could wait. But even as I let him rest, I knew this wasn't over. If Alexander Cain had been involved, this would have been something much bigger.

Something far worse.

And now, my family is in the crosshairs.

I had a feeling this wasn't over. Not even close. Despite my paranoid thoughts, I let my brother stay tucked away in his hospital bed. He needed the space... And I needed a moment.

I couldn't stay in the ICU hallway forever, drowning in the noise of my own racing thoughts. The cold, artificial air of the hospital did nothing to calm my unease.

"Mom, I'll grab us some coffee, okay?" My hand found her shoulder, squeezing gently. She nodded absently, too lost in worry to notice my trembling fingers.

The elevator ride down to the first floor felt like a slow-motion nightmare. My mind kept racing back to what David had said. Just as I rounded the corner, I collided into something solid - a wall of muscle and warmth. The impact sent me stumbling back, a gasp slipping from my lips.

"Whoa, easy there."

A strong hand caught my arm, steadying me. My eyes snapped up, locking onto a sharp, mischievous gaze framed by dark lashes. The man before me had an easy confidence about him, his lips twitching in an amused smirk.

"Well, if I knew hospitals were filled with women this stunning, I would've found more excuses to visit," he drawled.

I arched a brow. "And if I knew they let in walking clichés, I would've gone another way."

"Ouch. That one stung. But you don't seem the type to be easily swept off your feet anyway. Pity. I was hoping for a dramatic moment. Maybe you were fainting in my arms."

I scoffed, shaking off his grip. "Not my style."

"Shame. "I'll take the collision as a consolation prize." His oceanic gaze flickered over me, sharp but not intrusive. "Rough night?"

"That obvious?"

"Only to someone paying attention."

I didn't reply, my mind already tugging me back toward reality. This wasn't the time for meaningless banter.

"Well, stranger, it's been fun, but I need to-"

"Liam," he cut in smoothly. "Not 'stranger.' If you ever feel the need to curse someone under your breath, at least do it properly."

I huffed a soft laugh, despite myself. "Noted."

He stepped aside, but his stare lingered as I walked away.

It was only after I had grabbed the drinks and started back toward the ICU that I realized something unsettled me about him. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I shook the feeling off and pushed forward.

When I returned, Mom accepted the coffee with a grateful nod. I sat beside her, letting the silence stretch between us. Then, something caught my eye, a discarded newspaper on the seat beside me.

Curiosity pulled me in as my gaze skimmed the front page. My eyes stopped getting cold.

"DISGRACED TYCOON RELEASED AFTER A DECADE IN PRISON."

Vincent Carlisé

A man who once held an empire in his grasp, until Alexander Cain tore it from him. A scandal that had rocked the business world, a downfall that had been swift and merciless. And now, he is free. But that wasn't what sent ice down my spine.

My pulse quickened as my gaze flickered to the grainy photograph accompanying the article. Vincent - older, harder - and just behind him, slightly out of focus...

My heart dropped.

'Liam.'