Chapter 8

• 12:30 AM, Phoenix Residence.
• Crimson Blaze sank into the couch in his room, nursing a glass of vintage wine.
• Suddenly, a gentle knock sounded on the door, jolting him back to reality. He set his glass on the delicate crystal table and pondered who could be visiting at this ungodly hour as he rose to his feet.
• With a deep breath, he pulled the knob and swung it open, revealing his late-night visitor. Before him stood a regal woman in her seventies, with high cheekbones and aristocratic features that added to her striking presence. Her long silver hair rolled into an elegant bun at her nape.
• "Grandma," he muttered with furrowed brows. "Shouldn't you be asleep now? The doctor said you shouldn't stay up late."
• "Hijo, Isabela is missing," Esperanza exclaimed in a panicked tone, her Spanish accent accentuating her worry.
• "Have you checked her room?" he asked. It's late and his cousin wouldn't leave the house. She must be hiding somewhere in the mansion, he thought to himself.
• "I’ve checked her room twice, but she's not in there. The servants looked everywhere but she couldn't find your cousin,” the old woman replied, her face ashen with worry.
• Esperanza's demeanor had always exuded an admirable calmness, but he could not find a trace of it now. A foreboding feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.
• "Go to your room, Grandma. I’ll look for her."
• Esperanza stood motionless, staring blindly at the window, fear evident in her eyes. Gently, he placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle push. "I can handle it alone."
• She hesitated for a moment before acquiescing. "Please make sure she's safe."
• "I will. I'm sure she just went out for a walk," he said reassuringly, even though he knew it was not a possibility.
• His grandmother nodded, gently squeezing his arm before disappearing behind the door. He listened as her footsteps gradually faded into the distance, waiting until he could no longer hear them before he finally moved.
• He let out a deep sigh, quickly buttoned his half-opened shirt, and grabbed his coat from the rack. While struggling to put it on, he rushed down the hallway.
• —
• An hour later.
• Goddammit!
• Crimson Blaze muttered a curse for what felt like the hundredth time as he checked the last place Isabela could possibly be. But the balcony, where she loved to spend moments of peace, was empty, and there was no sign that she'd been there at all.
• He had already turned the inside of the house upside down, even checked the garden, the gazebo, and the garage, but Isabela wasn't in any of those places.
• Initially, he wondered if she had left the mansion. However, her favorite pink Porsche was parked in the garage, and none of the other cars were missing, so he quickly dismissed that possibility.
• “Eeeeeek!”
• As soon as he heard a servant's blood-curdling scream, cold dread spread along his spine.
• Fear congealed in his chest, and he bolted from the foyer, taking the stairs three at a time, his long, powerful legs propelling him upward.
• The servant rushed down the hall toward him, her eyes bulging with panic. "She's bleeding so badly! Oh my God, there's blood all over the place."
• "Call the ambulance!"
• He pushed past the middle-aged servant and ran into his late grandfather's bedroom.
• Isabela wasn't inside the bedroom, but the door to the bathroom was open, and he leaped forward, only to freeze in his spot at the sight of a crimson pool on the pristine white floor.
• Isabela lay calmly in the tub, her big brown eyes blank and empty as she stared at the ceiling.
• Her long midnight-dark hair cascaded down the rim of the tub, their tips touching the ceramic tiles. Her left wrists extended to the floor, revealing deep slashes on her fragile skin, blood seeping through the gaping wounds.
• Finally, he found his voice and cursed under his breath as he knelt by her side.
• "Leave me alone, Crimson. Just let me die here," Isabela’s pale, dry lips mumbled. She tried to snatch her hand away from him, but she couldn't even speak clearly, much less move her limbs.
• "Hush, don't say anything." He snatched the towel from the rack, pressing it hard against her wrists to stop the bleeding until help arrived.
• Crimson wanted to bury his face in his hands. He wanted to punch something, preferably a wall. He wanted to explode with rage. He was a worthless brother. If he had just paid attention to his cousin, this wouldn't have happened.
• But he had been busy salvaging what was left of the family business, neglecting Isabela even after knowing how badly she needed him.
• "Grandpa's gone, Crimson. I can't live anymore. Just thinking I'll never see him again hurts so bad I want to die."
• "Isabela, it's hard for me too, but I'm now the man of the house, and I have to be strong. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me most." He pressed the towel harder against her wrists, crimson splotches appearing on the white cloth, indicating she was losing too much blood.
• "Why can't you just leave me here to die?" she whispered, tears pooling in her sunken eyes. "You don't know how I feel. I was the first one to arrive at the crime scene. I witnessed how Grandpa lay on the floor, struggling to breathe, but I just stood frozen, unable to do anything but watch life slowly seep away from him."
• "He's the gentlest person I know. How could something cruel happen to him? Why did they have to hurt him? He suffered so much before he died, Crimson. I will never forget his face in his dying moments."
• "Hush. Stop talking and save your strength."
• Isabela closed her eyes. "Will you promise me you will find who killed Grandpa?"
• He swallowed the lump in his throat and wrapped his hand around her cold fingers. "I will find who killed Grandpa, Isabela. I will make him suffer. I promise you that."
• "Thank you."
• Footsteps scurried behind him, and he felt a hand gently usher him out of the bathroom. The next thing he saw was Isabela's limp, pale body being carefully lifted onto a stretcher.
• Everything became a blur afterward. He didn't even know how he got to the hospital. He just found himself stumbling through the double doors, disoriented and dazed.
• He watched until Isabela disappeared behind the emergency room doors, then sank into the cold, steel chair, burying his face in his palms.
• First, his grandfather was murdered in the summer house, second, his grandmother was recently diagnosed with cancer. On top of that, their family business was struggling to stay afloat. And now Isabela was dying?
• He didn't know how to feel anymore.
• He was only twenty-eight, but he felt like he was carrying an immense weight on his shoulders.