Chapter 5: Max left, holding Isabella in his arms
[Sarah's Perspective]
Peter Hughes dabbed at his split lip with an ice pack, wincing slightly. "Mrs. Morrison, you didn't have to check on me. I deserved worse for how I treated you."
"Everyone deserves a second chance, Mr. Hughes." I settled into the chair across from him in the training center's medical bay. "Though I admit, watching Max put you in your place was... satisfying."
A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "He's protective of what's his." The smile faded as he studied me. "Which makes me wonder why you're planning to leave."
My hand went to the elegant watch on my wrist – a wedding gift from Mrs. Morrison. "Sometimes what looks like possession is just... obligation." I removed the watch, holding it out to him. "Would you give this to Max for me?"
Peter's eyes widened. "Mrs. Morrison—"
"I don't belong here, Peter." I managed a weak smile. "I'm just a nobody who wandered into the wrong fairytale."
"Let me drive you," he offered. "Tomorrow morning. Six hours to DC. I'll make sure you get there safely."
I nodded, throat tight. "Thank you."
I made my way from the staff apartments toward the cafeteria. My hair was still damp from the shower, and my stomach reminded me that I'd missed lunch during the training session.
"Sarah."
The deep voice stopped me in my tracks. Max stood with Kevin Owen. Max's dark suit was impeccable as always, his presence commanding even in this casual setting.
"Going somewhere?" Max's eyes were cold as winter.
"Just to get some food." I forced myself to meet his gaze. "Though I suppose I should pack instead. I'm heading back to DC tomorrow. To visit your grandmother."
"Is that so?" His voice carried a dangerous edge.
"I miss her." The lie tasted bitter. "And clearly, I'm not needed here."
"Running away so soon?" His smile held no warmth. "And here I thought you were after the Morrison fortune."
The words struck like physical blows, but I forced a laugh. "Oh, you're right. I should have aimed higher. Found myself a faithful, devoted sugar daddy instead of..." I let the words hang in the air, heavy with implication.
His jaw tightened. "You signed up for this arrangement."
An alarm cut through the air, its wailing urgency sending security personnel scrambling. Kevin's tablet lit up with alerts.
"Sir!" He called out. "Chemical incident in Building 5. Multiple casualties reported." His tablet chimed again. "Ms. Blake was seen entering the restricted area shortly before the incident."
The color drained from Max's face. For a moment, our eyes met, and I caught something unfamiliar in his expression - perhaps uncertainty, or a flicker of conflict. But then he turned and ran toward Building 5, leaving me standing there like a forgotten afterthought.
Through the gathering crowd, I could see Max cradling Isabella in his arms outside Building 5. Her designer outfit remained oddly pristine despite the supposed chemical exposure. "I was just curious!" Her voice carried across the space. "I didn't mean to! I was just curious, and then something spilled—"
"Shh, it's alright." His voice was gentle as he stroked her hair. "You're safe now."
Something inside me hardened at the sight. There were people dying inside that building while he comforted the woman responsible for their suffering.
"Peter," I called out to Hughes, who had appeared at my side. "Get all the baking soda and water you can find from the cafeteria. Kevin, alert medical that patients need alkaline solutions immediately to neutralize the toxin."
To their credit, neither man hesitated. Peter sprinted toward the cafeteria while Kevin relayed instructions.
I pushed past Max and Isabella into the building, pulling my shirt up over my nose and mouth. The research wing was chaos – scientists and technicians stumbling around in confusion, several already unconscious on the floor.
"Here!" Peter appeared with cases of bottled water and boxes of baking soda. "What's next?"
"Mix one tablespoon per bottle. Help me get everyone to drink it." I demonstrated with the first victim, supporting their head as they swallowed. "It won't cure them, but it'll buy time until proper medical treatment arrives."
"Isabella," I called out, seeing her sway slightly against Max. "You need to drink this too. You were exposed."
Her perfect lips curled in disgust. "I don't need your amateur medical advice. A high school dropout playing chemist?" Her laugh was sharp and brittle. "Please. I graduated from Cambridge. I think I know better than to drink some... kitchen concoction."
"This isn't about education," I insisted, trying to keep my voice calm. "The chemical reaction—"
"Oh, spare me." She pressed closer to Max, who watched the exchange with an expression I couldn't quite read. Something in his eyes seemed to sharpen as he looked between us. "Darling, can you believe this? She probably learned her 'chemistry' mixing drinks at that seedy nightclub."
I saw several researchers exchange glances at her words, and more notably, I caught Max's slight frown at her tone.
"Your choice," I said quietly, turning away to help others. "Peter, let's keep moving. There are more people who need this."
We worked quickly, moving from person to person. Behind us, I could hear Isabella's theatrical coughing growing worse.
Hours later, the crisis was contained. Thirty-five people hospitalized, but all stable. The investigation team picked through the contaminated lab while I gave my statement to security.
Dr. Lewis burst into the room, his lab coat still showing traces of the chemical incident. "Sir, we've reviewed the security footage. Ms. Blake was attempting to access the restricted storage area without proper authorization. When confronted by lab staff, she accidentally knocked over several containers in her haste to leave."
Isabella, who had followed him in, immediately protested. "That's not true! I was just..." Her voice faltered as Dr. Lewis pulled up the footage on his tablet.
"The Azure Liquid's containment protocols were clearly marked," Dr. Lewis continued, his voice stern. "As were the warnings about the rhenium compounds. Any first-year chemistry student would know not to disturb them."
"Speaking of chemistry," he turned to me, his expression shifting from frustration to admiration. "Mrs. Morrison, your quick thinking saved lives today. That alkaline solution was exactly what was needed to neutralize the toxic effects."
"I..." I swallowed hard, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "I just... knew. I can't explain how."
Isabella suddenly pressed a delicate hand to her throat, her eyes going wide. "Max," she whispered, voice trembling. "I... I can't breathe properly. Everything's spinning..."
The change in Max was visible, though perhaps not as complete as before. His previous sternness melted away as he gathered her into his arms, but there was a new tension in his shoulders, a slight hesitation in his movements that hadn't been there before. "I'm taking you to the hospital right now." His voice carried concern, but lacked its usual warmth when addressing her. "Dr. Lewis, have a medical team ready."
"But she refused the neutralizing solution," Dr. Lewis began, only to be cut off by Max's sharp glare, though it seemed more habitual than heartfelt.
"She needs proper medical attention," Max said, already striding toward the door with Isabella cradled against his chest. As they passed me, I noticed his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary, something unreadable in their depths. Isabella managed to shoot me a triumphant smirk over his shoulder before burying her face in his neck with a theatrical whimper.
I stood there, watching them leave, noticing how Max's posture seemed slightly stiffer than usual, his grip on Isabella not quite as tender as it had been in previous similar scenarios.
"Mrs. Morrison?" Peter's quiet voice broke through my thoughts. "The transport to DC is still arranged for tomorrow morning. If you're still planning to go."
I nodded silently. Despite noticing the subtle changes in Max today - his lingering glances, his slight frowns at Isabella's words - the pain of watching him walk away with her yet again cut too deep. Some wounds couldn't be healed by maybes and might-have-beens.