Rising from the Ashes The Heiress They Tried to Erase Novel

Chapter 848: A flicker of awareness stirred in Maia. She just felt that Chris was standing a little too near for comfort. A sharp sound broke the quiet - his breathing had turned quick and uneven. It was unmistakably Chris. When she turned around, Maia found him visibly shaken - his usual calm shattered, brows drawn tight, and one hand pressed firmly against his head. His footing faltered, and he swayed as if he might fall at any second. "Chris?" Alarm swept over Maia's face. She rushed to his side and caught his arm.

"What's happening to you?" Sweat trickled down his face, cold and heavy, while his entire body tensed in what looked like unbearable agony. "My head... it feels like it's splitting..." His voice came out strained, eyes glazing over as he struggled to stay conscious. Before she could say another word, his body gave out, and he collapsed. "Chris! Chris, wake up!" Maia pleaded, her voice raw from screaming as she tried to hold his lifeless weight, nearly buckling beneath him. No matter how desperately she yelled, her cries seemed swallowed by emptiness, unable to reach him at all.

Chris remained motionless. His eyes were shut tight, pain etched across his face, his head pressed against her shoulder while sweat formed a cold sheen on his brow. The heat radiating from his skin was almost unbearable. It was as if a fever raged through his veins, scorching Maia's hands every time she touched him. "Please, don't drift away... Open your eyes, Chris. Look at me, I'm right here!" Only silence replied. His unconsciousness ran deep, and his breathing grew weaker with each passing moment. It was pure luck that a hotel waiter saw what was happening and rushed to get help.

The manager joined him, and together they lifted Chris onto a stretcher before hurrying him to the waiting ambulance. ⲅⲛ⸳ Sirens howled through the night, sharp and relentless, cutting through Maia's thoughts and slicing deep into her chest. Outside the emergency room at the affiliate hospital of Sceibar Royal Academy, Maia lingered in the hallway. She paced restlessly, tense as a drawn bowstring, glancing nervously at the shut doors. Every so often, she would bite her lip, fix her gaze on the floor, and wring her hands until her knuckles turned white.

All she could do now was hope - trusting in time and fate. Sixty minutes crawled by. Still, the emergency room's red light glowed steadily, and the steel doors stayed firmly shut. Maia's energy faded with every passing minute. Eventually, she dropped onto a chair and pressed her hands against her ears, wishing she could shut out the growing fear inside her. Chris had only just recovered his memories of his mother. Maia truly believed that things would start to get better. She had no idea it was just a temporary peace before disaster. The pain Chris endured this time was nothing like before.

The headaches struck more often now, each one stronger than the last. It almost seemed as though the next time he collapsed, he would never wake up again. . . .