It's Your Turn To Cry and Beg, Dear Uncle
Chapter 24: The Edge of Conflict

Chapter 24: The Edge of Conflict

James froze mid-step as he read the message, his eyes narrowing with a cold intensity. He had contacted Killian from the ambulance en route to the hospital, instructing his trusted secretary to contain the fallout.

The restaurant had been unusually crowded, and the incident had drawn significant attention. He couldn’t rule out the possibility that a guest had taken a video or that someone from the staff had leaked the news.

The last thing he needed was another round of salacious gossip about his family flooding the internet. This time, with his family directly involved, the stakes were even higher.

James clenched his jaw. Not only did he need to suppress any rumors, but he also required irrefutable evidence to put Lila behind bars. Her family wasn’t one he could challenge recklessly. He needed leverage strong enough to silence her father completely.

As James prepared to respond to the message, another text from Killian arrived. His brows knitted in confusion—why would his secretary send a follow-up so quickly? When he opened the new message, James went silent.

[There’s something you need to see...]

Though he didn’t hear Killian’s voice, the urgency behind those words was palpable. For Killian to send a separate message meant he’d hesitated. Whatever it was, it had rattled even a man as composed as him.

Lila wasn’t the issue—Killian was too detached to be swayed by her theatrics. But there was one person who might cause him to pause: Kyra.

At the thought of her name, James felt a sudden pang of unease. But before he could dwell on it, Jane’s voice interrupted his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

"James, what are you doing just standing there?" The old lady’s voice echoed from the corridor as she beckoned him with a nod. "Come here. Hurry."

"I’ll be right there, Grandma," James replied.

Satisfied, Jane turned and disappeared around the corner, heading toward the intensive care unit. James, meanwhile, quickly typed a response to Killian’s text. He informed him that he was still at the hospital handling matters with Kyra and asked for an update on Lila. After hitting send, he pocketed his phone and made his way to the VIP room where his family was waiting.

Inside, nurses were busy setting up the room under the doctor’s supervision. The space was spacious and well-lit, featuring an ensuite bathroom, a dining area, and a comfortable couch. The hospital director, upon learning the Synders were his guests, had ordered top-tier accommodations.

James’ influence as a shareholder was not to be underestimated—his investments had funded state-of-the-art facilities and equipment, and he’d even sponsored pharmaceutical research.

To the director, ensuring James’ satisfaction wasn’t just about service; it was about securing the hospital’s continued growth and demonstrating the value of his contributions.

As Jane gently held Kyra’s hand, her gaze remained fixed on the sleeping girl. Her voice trembled as she addressed the doctor. "When do you think she’ll wake up?"

Her question was laced with soft sobs, and tears welled in her eyes at the heart-wrenching sight of Kyra’s frail figure.

"That... we can’t say for certain yet," the doctor replied cautiously. "We still need to assess the full extent of her head injury. However, given her stable condition, she might wake up sooner than expected."

Despite his composed exterior, the doctor’s nerves were frayed. Years of experience had taught him that dealing with the families of wealthy patients could be as challenging as treating the patients themselves.

Some had unrealistic expectations, treating doctors like miracle workers, and he’d even faced lawsuits in the past. One case, involving a powerful family, had nearly cost him his license.

Since then, he harbored a subtle wariness toward affluent patients. Yet, professionalism came first, and he was determined to do his job regardless.

To his surprise, Jane simply nodded and offered a warm smile. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Please take good care of our child," Creighton added, extending a hand. His expression was calm and sincere.

"Of course, Mr. Synders," the doctor replied, shaking his hand.

As he exited the room, a wave of relief washed over him. But just as the door closed, it opened again, revealing a tall, handsome man with a panicked expression. The family’s faces brightened immediately upon recognizing him—Oliver.

Anthony, Oliver, Orlando, and Harvey had been James’ closest friends since childhood. Their families shared a deep bond, especially with Oliver, whose aunt had married the Synders’ eldest son, making him James’ cousin. Oliver’s frequent visits to the Synders’ mansion had only increased after Kyra joined the family.

"Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt Cressida, Uncle Vincent, hello!" Oliver greeted politely, his manners impeccable as always.

Cressida’s face lit up. Among James’ friends, Oliver was her favorite—not just because of their familial ties but also due to his gentlemanly demeanor and stellar career in real estate.

His charm and good looks made him the subject of admiration among her socialite friends, many of whom hoped to pair their daughters with him. Some had even sought Cressida’s help, given her aunt-like relationship with him.

"You’re here. Did James tell you?" Jane asked, her eyes shifting between Oliver and James.

Oliver stood quietly on the opposite side of Kyra’s bed, his gaze fixed on the sleeping girl. Something about his demeanor caught Jane’s attention. She noticed a faint tension in the air. James, too, seemed unusually reserved, his typically warm attitude toward his best friend now replaced with an unfamiliar coldness.

"Yes, Grandma," Oliver replied, his voice carrying the weight of exhaustion and urgency. His panting breaths hinted at the speed with which he must have rushed to the hospital.

’The boy must have raced through the city and sprinted in here,’ Jane thought, feeling a pang of emotion. Her gaze shifted between Kyra and Oliver.

Despite the ten-year age gap—since Oliver belonged to James’ generation—she couldn’t help but consider him a suitable match for Kyra. The signs were there: his constant concern for her, his immediate response to the news, and now, his evident distress upon seeing her in this state. Perhaps Oliver’s feelings for Kyra ran deeper than mere brother-sister relationship.

"H-How is she?" Oliver’s voice broke slightly as his gaze remained fixed on Kyra.

His heart felt as though it were being crushed at the sight of her, swathed in gauze from head to toe. A whirlwind of questions filled his mind, the most pressing being: How did this happen?

His eyes darted to James, who sat silently, holding Kyra’s hand. Oliver’s thoughts churned. He had assumed James would take Kyra home after the last time he’d seen them together. But now—this? Could James have had anything to do with it?

The idea seemed absurd. No matter how angry James might have been, it wasn’t in his nature to harm anyone, let alone Kyra. The Synders had always upheld a strict code of conduct: never raise a hand against women, children, the elderly, or the vulnerable.

"She’s stable for now," Creighton said, his voice trembling slightly as he fought back tears. "But the doctor mentioned she needs to stay here for further examinations, particularly concerning her head injury. We’ll need Kyra to wake up before we can understand the full extent of her condition."

Oliver clenched his fists tightly, his jaw tightening as he tried to steady himself. Finally, the question he had been holding back escaped his lips.

"What happened for her to end up like this?" Oliver’s voice trembled with anger, his tone sharp and accusatory.

James glanced at him, catching the mix of fury, fear, and helplessness in his words. Oliver wasn’t just angry—he was terrified. The doctor’s vague assurances provided little comfort.

’When will Kyra wake up?’ he wondered. ’What if she doesn’t wake up for a long time?’

The dark corners of his mind conjured worst-case scenarios, and no amount of logic could silence them. Even someone as rational as Oliver couldn’t think clearly in a moment like this.

The room fell into an uneasy silence. The tension was palpable, and Oliver, already on edge, noticed it immediately. His piercing gaze locked onto James, demanding answers. But James, refusing to meet his eyes, remained silent, feigning ignorance.

Finally, Jane broke the oppressive quiet, her voice tinged with frustration and sadness. "Grandma and Grandpa decided to visit James and Kyra today for dinner," she began, her tone tight.

"But we ran into Lila—she came along with your aunt and uncle. Do you know her? She’s James’ girlfriend."

Oliver’s lips curled into a sneer. "Yes, I know her."

"We decided to have a small welcome dinner at Paradise Dynasty since it was the first time meeting her. Everything was fine at first, but during dinner, Kyra said she wanted to spend some time on the balcony. Lila followed her shortly after..."

Jane’s voice faltered, her eyes clouding with tears. Oliver’s chest tightened. He already had an inkling of what might have happened, and the thought made him sick. Still, he forced himself to listen as Jane pushed through her emotions to finish the story.

"We don’t know exactly what happened," she said, her voice cracking. "But the next thing we knew..."

She broke into quiet sobs, unable to continue. Creighton gently rubbed her back, his own eyes reddened from the memory.

Oliver didn’t need her to say more. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. "Lila pushed Kyra over the railing," he said, his voice steady but laced with venom.

Jane nodded weakly, her sobs intensifying. Creighton sighed deeply, his grief evident.

The fire inside Oliver erupted, consuming his restraint. His teeth clenched, and his glare turned toward James, who had remained silent throughout. James, sensing the searing rage in Oliver’s eyes, finally looked up to meet his gaze.

The air between them grew thick with tension, the unspoken accusations hanging heavy. It felt as though a single spark could ignite the room.