The Billionaire’s Maid Bride (Flanagan and Allison)

Chapter 592

Emma made her way across the sterile hospital corridor. Her concern was etched in the fine lines of

sweat on her brow. “How’s Hughes doing?” she asked. Her voice was laced with worry.

Bryan looked up, with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re here. He’s hanging in

there, and hasn’t woken up yet though. Doctor says he should come around by this afternoon. All going

well.” He noticed Emma’s perspiration, which was a clear sign of her haste. “Weren’t you supposed to

be at work this morning? Talent agents like you are always on the go, aren’t they? I mean, if you were

free, sure, pop in to see him, but you didn’t need to rush over. Like, if you were heading to the grocery

store and happened to be passing by the hospital, that would’ve been a perfect time to drop in.”

Emma brushed off Bryan’s teasing.

“Can I see him?” she inquired. Her tone was serious.

“Sure, go right ahead.”

She pushed open the door to the hospital room and stepped inside.

Hughes lay there, in a patchwork of tubes and wires. His pale face was ashen like a ghost, a deep

unconsciousness enveloping him. Emma had only met this man a few times, shared a few nights, but

the news of his injury had stirred a sadness within her.

Despite his comatose state, Emma quietly pulled up a chair beside the bed. She watched him,

propping her chin with one hand, contemplating the man who lay in a medicated slumber. His breathing

was almost imperceptible. © 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

The rhythmic beeping of the monitors was the only sign of the life force within him.

“You always boasted about being tough, didn’t you?” Emma whispered softly. “Look at you now. Seems

like those were just tall tales.”

“Can’t always play the hero.”

After a few minutes at his bedside, Emma stood and left the room. As Bryan had pointed out, her life as

a talent agent was hectic, and breaks were a luxury she seldom enjoyed.

Moreover, with the recent media frenzy surrounding Allison, the pressure was mounting. That morning,

Emma had an appointment with a national beverage brand manager to discuss an endorsement deal.

Checking her watch, she turned back to Bryan. “What happened to Hughes last night? How did he get

hurt?”

Knowing that Hughes ran a bar that sometimes catered to rough crowds, Emma suspected some kind

of brawl. Perhaps an argument had escalated, and he’d taken a knife for his trouble.

Bryan shook his head. His expression was somber. “I’m not sure. It was near closing time when a

group barged in and started a fight, trashing a bunch of chairs at the Blue Club. Hughes and I rushed

down, and it seemed they were specifically targeting him. One of the bastards pulled a switchblade.”

Emma’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Did he cross somebody recently?”

“Not that I know of,” Bryan replied. “He’s been keeping to himself these days.”

...

In the office.

Patty looked up from her paperwork. “Don’t worry. I won’t forget,” she assured him. Read at

Could it be that Mr. Sears and Patty were conspiring together?