Billionaires At War

CHAPTER XLI

Harrison smiled as he shut the car door while looking at the glowing light from his phone screen as he moved, lifting his head just once to see where the staircase began, and he didn't trip on his feet. Reaching the top of the staircase, he reached behind a vase and closed the dangling key around his palm. As he pushed the key into the lock, he was a bit shocked as the door fell open beneath his palms. A small squeak following it as it opened with a flourish to reveal the hall.

"Cassandra?" he called, pushing his phone into the back pocket of his jeans as he leaned forward to see if there was any key at the back of the door. There was none. Frown lines appeared on his forehead as he slipped the key ring into his finger and made his way into the large house, thinking back to the last message that came through his phone. It wasn't more than ten or fifteen minutes ago, and she didn't mention a word about stepping out.

Worry settled at the base of his chest as he pushed the door close and locked it, leaving the key in the keyhole. First, he made his way to the living room, but there was no one and nothing out of place. Deafening silence filled everywhere, the kind that slowed his heartbeat and made his ears ring. Cassandra must have been sleeping; maybe she forgot to lock the door or left it open because he was coming in.

Sighing because he knew she would have locked her room door, whether he was coming over or not. He pulled out his phone and began walking over to the stairs with his eyes on his keypad as he speed dialled her number. His leisure walk came to a slow stop as not only the sound of her phone ringing loudly from ten feet away startle him but also the sight of her lying face down at the foot of the stairs.

Every cell in his body filled with fear as he rushed down to where she lay and put a hand on the small of her back. There was no sound from her, not even a gasp or groan of pain, before gently lifting her hair off her face so he could see how bad she was. Giving up on the poor light from the garden, he rushed back to the living room and flipped the light switch, standing there until he could see every inch of the staircase.

Her phone, even though it had been ringing looked destroyed, parts of the screen had cracked and the case had slipped off, tumbled down a few inches away from the phone as it lay beside her outstretched hand. Scared, he dropped to his knees again. With his hand on her back and the other on her neck, he checked for a pulse, listening through his own roaring pulse, to try and find a beat. He was afraid to move her; he could do more damage than good.

All the giggles and smiles coupled with her feeling of relief for the party was gone. Now, a large red bruise scared her cheeks, and her hair was a tangle of strands all over her face and neck, there was a slight swelling on her upper lip with a few stains of dried blood on her lower one. If she fell down the stairs then she would be in so much pain but even when he poked and probed some spots he knew would be sore, she didn't even flinch.

"Hello, I need an ambulance," he quipped as soon as the call went through. He didn't miss a beat, didn't wait for any phrases or greetings. "My girlfriend fell down the stairs, and I am afraid to move her more than I already have. She has some blood spots on her lips and a little from her nose. She isn't responding, her breathing is shallow, her hands a too cold."

"Sir, please, you need to calm down. Do you want us to track the phone for you if you don't know where you are, or can you send us an address?"

"House number 45, down the street from Kilbourne road."

If she had no idea who his girlfriend was before, the address gave her the biggest clue he could think of. A small gasp travelled through the line, and it was seconds before her voice followed, "You are calling from Cassandra Hernández's house?"

"Yes." He replied sternly before putting his lips to the speakers, "Get an ambulance here this instant."

His eyes tracked everything, from her face down to her bare feet, then up the stairs and landed on the open door of her bedroom with lights still sneaking past the door and splashing over the head of the staircase. From top to bottom there was no sign of a single slipper lying anywhere around.

He stayed by her side, trying to talk to her, even though she was unconscious. Something wasn't right, he wondered if she had another dizzy spell by the steps and missed one. It was how she got injured the last time on the balcony of her bedroom. Her mother wasn't home, so she was alone, he didn't know how long she had been like that.

When he looked outside, the blue and red lights from the ambulance fell on his eyes before the whitened rectangular body came into sight. The sirens blasting through his ears like a warning bell, sending him faster and faster down the stairs. Cassandra had not moved a muscle, she didn't even look as if she could wake up by herself, but he didn't let himself think. He rushed to the door, twisted the key in the lock before yanking the door open and motioning for the paramedics to come in.

"Help her."

He called out from behind the paramedics as he watched them arrange her in another position. One of them pulled her head up gently before they set a blue and white brace around it, keeping her arms stretched out beside her. Harrison heard the count down before they got her up and on the stretcher within seconds.

"Is she going to be okay?"

The man he held on to turned to look at him and nodded with a smile. "From what we saw, she is okay, a few bumps and bruises but no internal injuries we have detected, but we are going to run a few tests just to be sure of her condition."

"Is there someone I can ask a few questions to when I get to the hospital?"

The driver already slipped into the seat of the ambulance, but the paramedic he was talking to still gave him all his attention, "Questions regarding her injuries would be answered by the doctor that takes her case. I can't give you a sure diagnosis, so you have to wait till we have her examined."

His heartbeat stalled for a while, so quick it felt like a prick of thorns across his heart. He massaged the heel of his hand into his sternum as he followed behind the ambulance, tailing them with his car. The lights burning into his eyes as scene after scenes of the night replayed in his eyes. What did he hear, what did he see? Why couldn't he remember? There had to be a reason her door was open when she was the only one in the house.

Nothing made any sense; the only thing that continued ringing through his thoughts was the fact that Cassandra didn't fall down those stairs. How could she? He might have been overthinking. Which he wouldn't be if everything did seem so wrong, especially with the door. He couldn't shake the feeling off.

She didn't fall.

If someone had been in the house, if someone had hurt her then there would be hell to pay. Not only from him but from her mother as well. The problem then became who. Who would sneak into the house just to hurt Cassandra, and why was it now? It could be because of many reasons, she wasn't the most liked person in the city, but the timing was strange.

Shrill ringing broke through the breezy silence made him take his eyes away from the back of the ambulance so he could answer. "I am busy, mom."

"Watch your tone with me, honey," his mother laughed through the phone, then continued. "If you are this excited to hear from me, I wonder what you would say when I tell you I am home and facing Josephine this instant."

Harrison slammed his hand down on the wheel, exasperatedly exhaling as he turned the car in traffic. He could imagine himself at home, looking through his glass windows, facing a past that blatantly refused to die. The leather squeaked as he coiled his fingers around it and pushed the heel of his feet down on the accelerator. His vision remained fuzzy, a heady mix of red and blue lights with pictures of Josephine's disapproving scowls sitting on her lips.

His eyes felt heavy, but he kept them open, honed in his strength and zoomed after the ambulance. "Mom, please ignore her, call the police if necessary but do not let her in. In fact, don't even try to listen or reason with her; I have, it doesn't work. Once she is bored, she'll leave on her own. I am in the middle of something; let me call you back later."

With that, he ended thecall and pushed every thought out of his mind. All that mattered was Cassandra.She just had to be okay.