Chapter 249: All My Fault
Georgia’s POV
The call from the hospital came while we were still at the dining table—Wendy was finally awake. Relief washed over me, but the nurse reminded us visiting hours in the ICU weren’t until later. Waiting was torture, but at least it gave me time to prepare.
Vicky didn’t let me brood for long. She whisked me off to the mall, insisting we pick up more things we needed. I clutched the seatbelt as she drove, guilt tugging at me. "Sorry to bother you like this. I would’ve taken my own car if it wasn’t in the shop right now."
Vicky shot me a playful look, her grin as bright as the noon sun. "Bother me? Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for this moment—shopping with my sister-in-law." She tossed the words so casually, but they warmed me from the inside out. "And even if you had your car, Nick would never let you drive yourself after what happened. Between the penthouse and the outside world, sissy, you’re officially on the ’no solo trips’ list."
I chuckled softly, though the reminder of the fire and assault on Wendy made my chest tighten. "I know. Thank God my neighbors pushed the car out in time. If it had burned too... I can’t even think about it. Nick gave me that car." My voice cracked, equal parts fear and gratitude.
Vicky’s hands tightened on the wheel. "Right. And whoever is behind this? They’re ruthless. I keep thinking about Irene and Frank—especially Irene. She’s pregnant, running for her life... I can’t imagine living like that."
Her words lingered as we pulled into the hospital parking lot. My heart ached for Irene, but at the same time, a fierce determination stirred in me.
We arrived at the hospital earlier than visiting hours, so Vicky and I waited in the ICU’s small lounge.
A nurse approached us, her steps hesitant, eyes darting around as if someone might be watching. "Hi... you’re Ms. Georgia Lewis, right?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," I answered, my heart tightening at the way her voice wavered. "Is something wrong?"
Her fingers fidgeted with a folded pink sticky note. "I—I’m from the maternity department. A pregnant woman asked me to give this to you. Well... not exactly to you—she gave me three names she thought might be here. I checked the records and found Wendy West’s file in the ICU. It says you’re her guardian."
Every muscle in my body went rigid. "Go on," I urged, my voice sharper than I intended.
"She said it was very important—life and death. And she told me not to involve the police. She said if I gave this note to you, you’d know what to do because..." The nurse swallowed hard. "Because you have a very good lawyer with you." Her gaze flicked over her shoulder like she expected someone to appear any second.
She pressed the note into my palm quickly. "Please, take it. Don’t ask me anything else. She told me my life might be in danger if I did more than this. I only helped because she looked so desperate. I—I need to go back to work."
Before either of us could speak, she spun on her heel and hurried down the hall, disappearing around the corner.
Vicky and I stared after her, stunned. The air between us felt heavy, electrified as I unfolded the small sticky note with trembling hands.
"It’s from Irene..." The words fell out of me before I even realized I’d spoken. The moment the nurse had said "pregnant," I’d already known.
Vicky leaned in, her eyes scanning the same shaky handwriting as mine.
[Help. They got Frank. CCTV. I’m not alone.]
The letters blurred as my mind raced. This wasn’t just a message. It was a warning.
Just as I was about to whisper something to Vicky about the note, the nurse from the ICU suddenly appeared in the doorway.
"Everyone waiting for the ICU patients," she called out, her voice brisk but kind. "You may come in now."
The sound of chairs scraping and footsteps filled the waiting area as families hurried to the doors. My heart jumped into my throat; the tension of Irene’s note still buzzed in my mind.
"Go on," Vicky said quickly, her eyes already on her phone. "I’ll stay here. I’ll text Nick and Oliver about this. Focus on Wendy for now."
I nodded, clutching my bag tightly as I moved with the others down the corridor. Each step felt heavier, my mind still racing with Irene’s desperate handwriting. By the time I reached Wendy’s room, I had to pause at the door to steady myself because I was trembling.
She was awake, pale but smiling weakly, the moment she saw me. All my composure was shattered. I crossed the room in two steps and wrapped my arms around her, burying my face against her chest. I sobbed hard, and I trembled like a child.
"Oh dear," Wendy murmured, stroking my hair with a frail hand. "You’re a grown woman. Don’t cry like this."
"I’m sorry," I choked out, my tears soaking her gown. "I’m so sorry. This is all my fault, Wendy! You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t because of me."
Her fingers slid under my chin, gently tilting my face up. Her eyes, though tired, were steady and sharp. "Listen to me," she said firmly. "This is not your fault."
I shook my head, but she pressed on, her voice a whisper edged with steel. "The people who attacked me, the ones who burned the house, they said things. I heard them arguing before I locked myself in the room. Georgia... I have a very strong feeling these are the same men who killed your brother."
The room seemed to tilt. My heart stopped, then thundered back to life. I gripped her hands, searching her face for any hint of doubt. She had none.
If Wendy was right, then this was it—the thread we’d been waiting for. Nick’s fight. My brother’s death. The reason for all of this. My grief hardened into resolve.
This time, we were prepared. This time, we wouldn’t let them get away.
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