Chapter 6 The Soup

The sleaze in Archie made Isla sick to her core.

With a sly grin, Isla asked, "Are you leaving on your own, or should I have security escort you out?"

Her hand brushed the wall, pressing a button. The next instant, security marched in and seized Archie, wrestling him toward the exit. Flailing wildly, he shouted, "Isla! I'm still your father! Is this how you treat your own blood, after everything?"

Chaos broke out as Archie shoved Isla aside. She had planted herself in front of Skylar, ready to take the hit.

Skylar, stricken, called out for Isla. She tried to pull herself from the tangled sheets, desperation in her movements. Isla hurried over. "I'm okay, Mom," she said softly, helping her mother settle back onto the pillow.

Just then, Isla's gaze shifted. The glow from Skylar's phone caught her attention. Archie's venomous messages filled the screen. Rage sparked in Isla's eyes, burning hotter than ever.

---

Meanwhile, inside the mobile clinic, Theodore studied the chaos unfolding on his screen. From their brief encounter, Isla didn't strike him as someone who'd keep her composure like that.

He squinted at the security footage. Just beyond the hospital's entrance, a car that had been lurking sped up, aiming straight for Isla as she stepped outside.

An arctic chill crept into Theodore's voice. "Wreck that car. Tell the police to tear into it. The Harris family is demanding answers. I don't care who's involved-no one escapes this."

Isla's safety had become non-negotiable. Until he understood who she really was, he would let nothing touch her.

"Right away, sir!"

A metallic crash shattered the air, mingling with the shouts and shrieks of startled onlookers.

"Ma'am, please-get in the car now!"

Shaken, Isla gathered herself and climbed into the car. Beyond the glass, she caught a glimpse of the tangled mess outside, her lips twisting in disbelief as she caught snippets of the driver giving a statement to the police.

Nothing about that scene struck Isla as an ordinary malfunction.

From the front seat, the driver broke the silence. "Are you all right, ma'am?"

Pulled from her reverie, Isla gave a small nod. "I'm okay. Have you been out here this whole time?"

"Mr. Brent Harris put me in charge of your transportation, ma'am. I'm not supposed to leave your side."

Theodore, watching remotely, didn't miss the calm indifference on Isla's face.

Ian, usually tough to impress, let out a low whistle. "Boss, am I seeing things, or did she really just handle that like she'd seen it all coming?"

Pausing his restless fingers mid-tap, Theodore leaned in. The tension in his gaze sharpened as he focused on Isla's unreadable calm on the monitor.

A doctor materialized at his elbow, offering a small package. "Sir, these will help you recover your strength."

A sharp look from Theodore halted him. "Kolton has made many moves lately. It's about time I wake up. Make it happen."

The answer came quick. "Of course, sir!"

*

Soon after, Isla found herself stepping through the doors of the Harris family's villa once more.

She was greeted by the comforting aroma of soup. A maid approached with a steaming bowl. "Ma'am, Mr. Brent Harris wanted you to have this. He said you must have exhausted yourself by looking after Mr. Theodore Harris, so he asked the chef to prepare something special before he left home."

Without giving it a second thought, Isla accepted the bowl and made her way upstairs.

Inside the room, Ian's voice rang out from the monitor. "Boss, I just caught a maid putting something in Isla's soup. I can't say what it is yet, but I'll-"

Isla entered just then, the door shutting softly behind her.

Instantly, Ian severed the connection.

If there was anything odd about the soup, Isla failed to notice. The scent was hearty and rich. She wrinkled her nose, finding it oilier than she liked.

Surveying the room, she spotted Theodore back on the bed, his appearance absurdly regal. Isla muttered under her breath, "This is from your grandfather," and ambled to his side.

With slow, steady hands, Isla lifted the spoon to Theodore's lips.

A ripple of tension ran through Theodore, paralyzing him where he lay. When Isla's gaze drifted away, he managed to mouth a silent command toward the camera.

At the other end, Ian watched, anxiety mounting. Immediately, he signaled for the guards to intervene.

Intervention came too late. Theodore had already swallowed a few spoonfuls before a maid hurried in, her face pinched with urgency. Isla blinked, caught off guard. "Is there a problem?"

"The soup has cooled off, ma'am. I'll just warm it for you," suggested the maid, holding out her hands.

Fingertips grazing the side of the bowl, Isla realized it was indeed cold. She passed it to the maid and turned back to Theodore. "You'll get more later. I need to rinse off first."

A while later, Isla returned. Yet, a peculiar scent hung in the air, unfamiliar and faint.

Wait. Was that the sound of someone moaning?

Spinning on her heel, Isla fixed her eyes on Theodore. Color spread unnaturally across his cheeks and neck. Panic thrummed in her chest. Was something going terribly wrong?

No way should the medication she'd given him last night still be in his system if it hadn't worked by now.

She hurried to his side, alarm growing as she pressed her palm to his forehead. His skin blazed with fever.

What was more, something below the belt stood rigid, straining the fabric.

A long stare left Isla rattled. Confusion tangled with a flush of embarrassment. Even though she'd encountered him like this before, the sight still managed to unsettle her.

Heat crept into her own face as she tried to steady her nerves.

Realization struck-something in that chicken soup had done this.

An antidote wasn't anywhere within reach.

One touch confirmed his burning skin. If she didn't intervene, even dragging him out of his coma wouldn't save him from permanent damage.

Struggling to keep her tone even, Isla spoke with a crimson face. "Stay calm, okay? I'm going to help you cool down."

She let her fingers skim lightly across his abs, gliding over the taut muscles and then down further.

Despite her efforts, his fever only intensified.

Anxiety swelled. "Wait, why does it keep getting worse?"

Fire licked through her own veins. Part of her wanted to run for it, but her hands kept working, almost against her will.

Exhaustion hit her arms, and Theodore's condition refused to improve.

No way she could continue...

Clenching her jaw, Isla blurted, "Theodore, please forgive me for what I'm about to do. I'm going to call someone to dunk you in ice water. It's awkward, but you need it if you're going to survive. Hold tight!"

She pivoted, rushing toward the door.

"Ugh!" A groan rang out.

Isla stared, stunned, as the man she'd thought unconscious clamped a strong hand around hers.

Was Theodore awake?