Chapter 185

Jace's POV

I sat trembling on the hard plastic bench in the hospital corridor, staring at the blood on my hands. Eleanor's or her double's - I couldn't tell anymore. Maybe both. The scene kept replaying in my mind: rushing from behind the camera, lifting Eleanor's limp body from beneath her stunt double, shouting for someone to call an ambulance. My heart had nearly stopped in that moment.

I should wash it off, but I couldn't bring myself to move. What if something happened while I was gone?

No. I couldn't let myself think that way.

The chaos at the studio felt like a lifetime ago, though it had only been about an hour. The crew's initial shocked paralysis, then the frantic scramble to help. I'd loaded Eleanor into one car, her double into another, both racing toward hospital with sirens wailing.

Now all I could do was wait. The red emergency light above the double doors mocked me with its steady glow. It was all my fault. I was the director. I was responsible for every person on that set.

Rapid footsteps echoing down the corridor snapped me from my spiral of guilt. Clara Harrington and Grant Yates were hurrying toward me, their faces tight with worry. My stomach clenched at the sight of them.

"Jace! How is she? What happened?" Clara's voice cracked as they reached me. "How does a simple stunt go so wrong?"

I forced myself to meet their eyes, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Wire malfunction. The stunt double fell... landed on Eleanor."

"How bad is it?" Grant's face had gone ashen. "Please tell me my daughter's going to be okay."

"They're still working on her. In the ER." The words felt like glass in my throat. "Both of them."

Clara swayed slightly, and Grant quickly steadied her. "She'll pull through," he said, though his voice trembled. "Eleanor's always been a fighter."

"I never should have let her stay in this business," Clara whispered, tears gathering in her eyes. "The modeling was safe enough, but acting... all these stunts... I should have known something like this would happen."

Their words twisted the knife of guilt deeper. I wanted to apologize, to explain, to do something to ease their pain. But what could I possibly say?

The emergency room doors swung open, and a nurse strode out. "Family of Eleanor Yates?"

"Here!" Clara stepped forward immediately.

"The patient has sustained liver damage resulting in severe hemorrhaging," the nurse explained clinically. "She needs blood transfusions. We need donations from non-related individuals with AB negative blood type. The family's blood can serve as backup. The more donors we can find quickly, the better her chances."

I watched Clara's face drain of color as Grant fumbled for his phone. "I'll call the company," he said shakily. "Have them send anyone with AB negative right away."

My entire body went rigid, cold sweat breaking out across my skin. AB negative. I had it. But I couldn't.

Clara's POV

Standing in the sterile hallway outside the emergency room, I watched Grant hang up his phone. My heart was racing as I waited for news about Eleanor.

"Lucas will arrange it," Grant turned to me, his voice strained but trying to sound reassuring. "They will be here soon. Very soon..."

In that moment, a chilling thought cut through my mind like a blade of ice. My heart skipped a beat as a terrible possibility emerged. My voice trembled slightly as I asked, "Grant, what's your blood type?"

"Type A," he answered without hesitation.

The words hit me like a physical blow. I'm Type A as well - I knew this with absolute certainty. But then... how could Eleanor possibly be Type AB? It defied every basic principle of genetics. Two Type A parents simply couldn't have an AB child.

I looked at Grant and saw the color drain from his face as the same realization dawned on him. Our eyes met in a moment of wordless horror, neither of us daring to voice the impossible question hanging between us.

I rushed to the nurses' station. "Excuse me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "could you please check with the ER team? I think there must be a mistake about Eleanor Yates's blood type. My husband and I are both Type A. It's impossible for her to be Type AB."

The nurse nodded, picking up the phone. "Let me verify that for you, Mrs. Harrington."

Those seconds of waiting felt like years. Each breath seemed to catch in my throat as I watched the nurse speak quietly into the phone. When she finally looked up at me, her expression confirmed my worst fears.

"They've double-checked, Mrs. Harrington. Eleanor is definitely Type AB."

The world seemed to tilt beneath my feet. My mind raced through countless memories - Eleanor's first steps, her smile that looked so much like Grant's, the way she wrinkled her nose just like him when she concentrated. How could she not be ours?

The oppressive silence in the hallway was suddenly broken by the sound of hurried footsteps. I turned to see a middle-aged woman rushing toward the nurses' station, her face etched with worry.

"How is Maeve?" she demanded breathlessly. "Please, I need to know how my daughter is doing!"

As she stepped into the light, I felt another shock of recognition. Despite the twenty years that had passed, I knew that face. "Maya?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She froze for a moment, then seemed to collect herself, forcing an awkward smile. "Mr. and Mrs. Harrington," she said, bobbing her head, nervous greeting.

Anger flared through my confusion. "What are you doing here?" I demanded.

"I... I heard my daughter was injured during filming," she stammered, not quite meeting my eyes. "I came to check on her."

The fury I'd been suppressing burst forth. "Your daughter fell on top of mine," I snapped. "Eleanor could be dying because of her!"

Maya's reaction was startling in its intensity. "How is the young miss? Is it serious?" The desperate concern in her voice seemed oddly personal.

I stared at her, trying to understand the strange undercurrent I sensed in her behavior. But before I could question her further, she spun around to face the nurses' station. "Please, how is my daughter?"

Just then, the emergency room doors swung open. They wheeled someone out, her face pale but her injuries apparently not life-threatening.