Chapter 115: A Dizzying Arrival

The convertible BMW M3 screeched into the parking lot of County General Hospital, tires squealing in protest at Blaine Jackson's urgent speed. Claire Grace stumbled out of the car, her face pale and her breaths shallow. Her stomach churned, and she gripped the doorframe for support. 

"Claire!" Blaine leaped out and was at her side in an instant, his hand steadying her swaying form. 

"Claire, are you okay?" he asked, his dark eyes brimming with concern. Her normally lively complexion had turned ghostly white, and the sight unnerved him. 

"I'm fine, just a little dizzy," Claire murmured, brushing off his worry. "I think it was the speed. Or maybe the sunlight. Either way, I just need a moment." 

"Dizzy? Well, I might've pushed the speed limit a bit." Blaine's voice softened, guilt flickering across his face. "Do you need to sit and rest for a while?" 

"No!" Claire shook her head firmly, her voice trembling. "I need to find Lucas. Is he… is he hurt?" Tears welled up again as she spoke. 

"Okay, okay, don't cry," Blaine said quickly. "Give me your phone. I'll call him and see where he is." 

"I tried calling earlier," Claire sniffled, handing over her phone. "But his phone's off." 

Blaine hesitated, then guided her to a nearby bench. "Wait here. I'll ask around and see if anyone knows where he might be." 

Ten minutes later, Blaine returned, panting from his sprint. "Claire, are you sure Lucas said this hospital?" 

"Yes, I'm positive," Claire replied. "And Lauren Wells is the deputy director here. This has to be the place." 

"Well, here's the thing," Blaine began, rubbing the back of his neck. "The staff says there's no Lucas Zeller admitted this afternoon. The only patient with the last name 'Zeller' was brought in from a car accident—but it's a woman." 

Claire's eyes widened in shock. "A woman? Who? Did they say her name?" 

Blaine hesitated, his tone turning incredulous. "They said her name was… Blaire Zeller. Does that mean anything to you?" 

"Blaire?!" Claire shot to her feet, her heart racing. "It's Blaire! Where is she?" 

"The orthopedic VIP ward, room 103," Blaine replied, barely finishing before Claire bolted down the hall toward the ward. 

--- 

The nurse outside Blaire Zeller's room looked up as Lucas Zeller paced nearby, his jaw clenched and his fists tightly coiled. 

"Mr. Zeller," the nurse said gently, "your sister's injuries include abrasions on her back. We recommend she lie on her side to avoid irritating the wounds, but she's refusing and is becoming agitated. You should talk to her. If she insists on lying flat, the wounds could get infected." 

Lucas frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Side-lying? Will that affect the stability of her leg after surgery? She had a third-degree fracture, didn't she?" 

"She injured her left leg, so we've positioned her to lie on her right side," the nurse explained. "The setup won't put pressure on her leg. We've also used the best medications for her back. Once the abrasions start scabbing over in a few hours, lying flat won't be a problem." 

Lucas nodded curtly and pushed open the door. 

Inside, the room was dimly lit, with a faint antiseptic smell lingering in the air. Blaire's fragile figure lay amidst the sterile sheets, her face pale but her eyes bright with alertness as they flicked toward her brother. 

"Lucas," Blaire whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. "It hurts everywhere." 

Lucas's heart clenched. "The nurse said the anesthesia hasn't worn off your leg yet. Your other injuries shouldn't hurt too much either. Are you exaggerating again?" 

"I'm not!" Blaire pouted, her voice rising in protest. "My back and everything else really hurt. It feels like I've been run over twice." 

"Well, that's because you were in an accident," Lucas replied, his tone softening. "The nurse said you need to lie on your side to avoid infection. You don't want scars, do you?" 

"No!" Blaire shook her head vehemently. "But I can't. My leg feels numb, and I can't move it. And besides… my sleeping posture is terrible. I'll end up rolling onto my back anyway." 

Lucas exhaled deeply. "Fine. I'll help you." 

With practiced care, he placed one hand gently behind Blaire's head and the other under her injured leg. In one smooth motion, he helped her shift to her right side, ensuring she was comfortable. His scent—warm, clean, and faintly musky—lingered in the air, calming Blaire's nerves despite the pain. 

"See? That wasn't so hard," Lucas said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Blaire blinked up at him, her lips curving into a weak smile. "Thanks, Lucas. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

"You'll be fine," he replied softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Just rest now. I'm here." 

As Blaire's breathing evened out, Lucas sat beside her bed, watching over her with unyielding determination. In his mind, one thing was clear: whoever was responsible for this would pay dearly.