Undressed By His Arrogance-Chapter 314: Are You Okay?

A violent cough tore out of him, so sudden and forceful it bent him forward at the waist. Anna frowned immediately, maternal instinct flaring hot and bright. "Winn?" She leaned toward him. "Are you okay? Can someone get him water, please."

"Its fine...I’m f—" Another cough ripped through him, harsher, deeper.

Blood splattered across the conference table.

Bright. Red. Wrong.

Winn stared at it in confused disbelief, his brain struggling to catch up to what his body already knew. His vision tunneled. The room tilted. A roaring filled his ears, drowning out everything except the sudden, terrifying realization that he was going to die.

"Winn!!!" Anna screamed.

He tried to focus long enough to stand, muscles locking as he pushed himself up, but his legs betrayed him completely. Strength vanished. He crashed to the floor hard, the impact rattling his bones, the taste of metal flooding his mouth.

The conference room erupted into chaos.

Chairs scraped back violently. Papers scattered. Maurice was suddenly kneeling beside him. Anna dropped to the floor too, her knees hitting without care, her hands shaking as she cradled Winn’s head.

"Someone help!!" she shouted.

Maurice had his phone out already, fingers flying as he dialled 911, barking out their address, the situation, the urgency. "Suspected poisoning," he said, the words heavy, damning.

Winn’s breathing came shallow now, his chest burning. Faces hovered above him, warped and distant. Somewhere in the fog, his mind reached for Ivy—her laugh, her stubborn fire, the way she looked at him.

"Ivy..." he tried to say. It came out as a rasp.

"Winn!" Anna sobbed, brushing his hair back with trembling hands. "Winn, please! Winn! My boy... my baby."

Her tears splashed onto his face. He wanted to tell her he was okay.

But darkness crept in anyway.

*****

When Ivy got the news, she was still at work, buried in emails she no longer remembered opening. Evans walked into her office without knocking. His face was pale, tight, stripped of its usual easy confidence.

"Ivy," he said quietly.

She looked up, irritation already forming. "What is it? I’m in the middle of—"

He swallowed, lips pressing together before he spoke again. When the word poisoned left his mouth, everything shattered.

The room went silent. Empty.

The world seemed to hollow out in an instant, sound draining away as if someone had pulled the plug on reality itself. Her ears rang. Her chest seized so hard she thought she might collapse right there.

Her heart broke in a million violent fractures, each one tearing through her chest.

She heard Evans screaming her name somewhere in the back of her mind, distant and warped. Her body stood frozen, locked in place while her thoughts splintered and scattered. She couldn’t bring herself to respond. If she spoke, if she acknowledged what he’d said, it would become real. And she wasn’t ready for the world where Winn wasn’t there.

Evans stepped closer, panic sharpening his movements. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her desperately. "Ivy! Ivy, look at me!"

She finally lifted her head.

The eyes that met his were hollow, emptied out. He barely recognised his niece in that moment. This was someone standing at the edge of a cliff, one breath away from disappearing entirely.

"Where is he?" Ivy asked. "Is he... Is he..." The rest of the question strangled itself in her throat. Alive? Dead? Dying? She couldn’t finish it.

Evans swallowed hard. "I don’t know, sweetie," he said softly, his grip steadying. "I’ll take you down to the hospital. Dad and Irene will meet us there."

Evans kept his hands on her shoulders.

"Elizabeth..." Ivy whispered suddenly, panic spiking anew. Her fingers dug into his sleeve. "Get Elizabeth here."

Evans stiffened. "Ivy," he said carefully, "you know I cannot do that."

Her head snapped up, fire flickering briefly through the emptiness. "This is not the time to argue with me," she snapped. "Get Elizabeth here!"

"Okay," he said quickly. "Okay. Let’s get to the hospital first and see what’s going on, alright?"

She didn’t argue further. She let him guide her into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a soft, final ding. As they descended, the mirrored walls reflected her face back at her—pale, eyes too bright, lips pressed into a thin, trembling line. She barely recognised herself.

The drive was a blur of traffic lights and honking horns. Ivy stared straight ahead, hands folded in her lap. Her lips moved constantly, silently forming words that never made it past her throat.

She prayed.

Bargained, pleaded, promised things she didn’t even believe in anymore. Please let him be waiting for me. Please let him stay alive for me. For our children. For us. Her chest ached with every breath, grief and love tangling together until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

Tears slipped down her cheeks uncontrollably even as no sobs came.

Monsters were born from moments just like this.

Ivy finally understood what Sam had meant when he said people became monsters when what they cherished most was threatened. She understood it in her bones now, in the sharp, feral clarity that cut through her fear. The soft places where doubt and hesitation lived were shrinking, curling inward to protect themselves. If Winn lived, she would scorch the earth for him. If he didn’t... Ivy didn’t finish that thought. She didn’t have to. The monster was already pacing, waiting for permission.

At the hospital, machines beeped rhythmically somewhere down the corridor. Sam and Irene were already there with Maurice, Anna, and Tim.

Tim had Anna folded into his arms, one hand cradling the back of her head as she cried into his chest. He murmured things Ivy couldn’t hear, his jaw clenched tightly. Anna looked small in his hold.

Sam spotted Ivy instantly. He nudged Irene with his elbow. Irene followed his gaze then moved before Ivy could fully cross the threshold.

Evans brushed past Ivy as Irene intercepted her.

"What are you doing?" Ivy snapped, irritation flaring hot and fast. Her nerves were already stripped raw; patience was a luxury she no longer possessed.