Hot Driver - S01 E27

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Hot Driver - S01 E27

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 27

Abigail’s Mansion – Afternoon

Tyler picked his voice raspy like he hadn’t have a goos sleep in days.

for a moment, neither of them said anything at all, the silence stretching long and awkward across the line.

“Are you okay?” Tyler finally asked. “You went quiet.”

“I’m fine,” Abigail said, though the words felt hollow even to her own ears. “I just — I don’t know what to say to you right now, Tyler. There’s too much. The divorce papers. Whoever kept calling you. Now you sneaked into my mansion! ypu know that’s bad!!.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t watch you getting the cramps pain alone, I know how bad it acts up”

“I don’t even know where to start. I miss…”

“Neither do I. I love..”

The silence returned, heavier this time, both of them stuck somewhere between wanting to say everything and being unable to say anything at all.

“Can we not do this today?” Abigail finally said, exhaustion bleeding into her voice. “I can’t process all of this right now. My head is spinning enough as it is.”

“Okay,” Tyler said quietly. “Whatever you need.”

“Meet me the day after tomorrow. Somewhere neutral. We’ll talk properly then. About everything.”

“The day after tomorrow,” Tyler repeated, like he was committing it to memory. “I’ll be there. Whatever time you want.”

“I’ll text you the details.”

“Abigail—”

“Not today, Tyler.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Okay. The day after tomorrow.”

The call ended, and Abigail sat there a while longer, one hand drifting unconsciously to rest against her stomach, uncertainty and something else she couldn’t quite name churning together in her chest.

Brooke Residence – Same Afternoon

Celeste’s vision was still swimming when the car jolted to a stop, the sedative thick and heavy in her limbs, making it impossible to fully form a coherent thought.

The door beside her opened. One of the huge men leaned in, patting down her pockets with rough, efficient hands until he found her phone.

“Can’t have her calling anyone,” he muttered to his partner, throwing the phone to the front of the house.

The car lurched forward, tires squealing against the pavement, and Celeste’s head lolled against the window, consciousness slipping further away with every passing second, her last coherent thought a desperate, wordless prayer that Luis would come home soon and find the door open, find something wrong, find her missing before it was too late.

Prestige High School – Front Steps – Afternoon

The ambulance screeched to a halt at the curb, paramedics pouring out with practiced urgency.

Mitchell stood frozen a few feet away, phone still clutched in his shaking hand, the call to emergency services having taken three attempts before his fingers had steadied enough to actually dial correctly.

“She’s not responding,” one of the paramedics said, crouching beside Hazel’s still form, quickly assessing the wound at the back of her head.
“Let’s move, now.”

They lifted her carefully onto the stretcher, and Penelope followed immediately, refusing to let go of Hazel’s hand even as they wheeled her toward the ambulance doors.

“I’m coming too,” Mitchell said, finding his voice at last, scrambling after them.

No one stopped either of them.

Behind the hedges at the far end of the schoolyard, Sadie stood frozen, one hand pressed over her mouth, watching the ambulance doors slam shut with a finality that made her stomach turn.

I didn’t think it would be like this, she thought desperately. I thought she’d just slip. Twist her ankle. Look stupid in front of everyone. I didn’t think—

Beside her, Emilia watched the same scene with an entirely different expression — something cold, something satisfied, the corner of her mouth curling up just slightly as the ambulance pulled away, sirens wailing.

Sadie’s stomach twisted violently at the sight of that smile.

What have I done, she thought, guilt crashing over her in waves so strong she thought she might be sick right there in the bushes. What have we done.

Bennett Group of Companies – Arthur’s Office – Afternoon

Arthur’s phone rang mid-meeting, and he glanced at the screen with mild irritation.

Hazel.

She doesn’t call during school hours, he thought, frowning. She knows better than that.

He excused himself and answered, already forming the reprimand in his mind. “Hazel, you know you’re not supposed to call me during school hours—”

“Mr. Bennett, this is Penelope.”
Arthur’s irritation vanished instantly, replaced by cold alarm. “Penelope? Where’s Hazel? Why do you have her phone?”

“Sir, there’s been an accident. Hazel fell down the stairs at school. There was water — she slipped and she hit her head and she’s not waking up, they’re taking her to Creston General right now, please, you need to come—”

Arthur was on his feet before she finished speaking, the phone still on loudspeaker, Diana’s face going white as she heard every word from across the office.

“We’re coming,” Arthur said, voice tight with barely controlled panic. “We’re coming right now.”

He hung up and grabbed his jacket, Diana already ahead of him, both of them moving with a speed that scattered the meeting attendees out of their path entirely.

They hurried out of the building together, Diana already dialing Abigail’s number with shaking hands as they ran for the car.

Ivy Fashion Empire – Ivory’s Office – Same Afternoon

Ivory had sent for Duane

“Duane,” Ivory said, waving him into her office with a casualness that didn’t quite match the way her heart had picked up slightly at the sound of his footsteps approaching. “I need coffee.”

“There are three coffee machines on this floor.” Duane replied

“None of them make it as well as you do.”

“Is that so.”

“It is so.” She crossed her arms, refusing to acknowledge that this was, perhaps, less about the coffee and more about wanting a reason to see him standing in her office for a few extra minutes. “Make me a cup. Now.”

Duane rolled his eyes, though he was already moving toward the small kitchenette attached to her office. “Your bossiness knows no limits.”

“That’s part of my charm.”

“Debatable.”

His phone rang before he could argue further.

He glanced at the screen — Celeste — and answered without hesitation, a small, easy smile already forming. “Hey, Mama, what’s—”

The smile vanished instantly.

Ivory watched the color drain from his face in real time, watched his hand tighten around the phone until his knuckles went white.

“What do you mean she’s missing?” His voice cracked. “Luis, slow down, what happened—”

Ivory was on her feet before he’d even finished the sentence.

“I have to go,” Duane said, already moving toward the door, phone still pressed to his ear. “I have to go right now.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Ivory, this isn’t—”

“I’m coming with you,” she repeated, grabbing her bag off the desk.

“Don’t argue with me. Drive.”
He didn’t argue. There wasn’t time to argue.

They were in the car within minutes, Duane’s hands shaking against the wheel as he pulled out of the parking garage, tires screeching as he pointed the car toward Albern Street.

Creston General Hospital – Waiting Room – Afternoon

Arthur and Diana burst through the hospital doors, scanning the waiting room frantically until they spotted Penelope and Mitchell sitting together, both of them pale and silent.
“Where is she?” Arthur demanded, storming toward them. “Where’s Hazel?”

“They took her into surgery,” Penelope said, voice small.

Abigail arrived moments later, rushing in through the doors, still slightly unsteady on her feet, her face tight with worry.

Arthur’s eyes landed on Mitchell, something sharp and disgusted flashing across his expression. But he didn’t have the energy to address it now. Not with Hazel somewhere behind those doors, unconscious, bleeding.

“Where’s the doctor?” Arthur bellowed, loud enough that several heads in the waiting room turned. “Where’s Hazel Bennett? I want answers NOW.”

A nurse hurried over, hands raised placatingly. “Sir, please, I understand you’re upset, but I need you to stay calm. Your daughter is currently in surgery.”

“Surgery?” Diana’s voice broke entirely on the word, her knees nearly buckling before Abigail caught her arm.

“It’s precautionary,” the nurse said quickly. “A concussion, some stitches. The doctor will update you as soon as he’s able.”

Arthur turned back to Penelope, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.
“Tell me exactly what happened. Everything.”

“There was water on the stairs,” Penelope said again, her voice steadier this time, though something dark crept into her tone. “It wasn’t raining. Nothing was leaking. It looked deliberate.”

Arthur’s expression turned to stone.

“Deliberate.”

“I don’t know for certain,” Penelope admitted. “But it didn’t look like an accident.”

Mitchell finally spoke, his voice thick with guilt. “I was right there. I should have caught her. I should have seen the water before she stepped on it. I just — I froze. I’m so sorry.”

Nobody responded to that. Arthur simply turned away, already pulling out his phone, dialing his private investigator with cold, deliberate fury.

Diana pulled Abigail aside. “Call Ivory. She needs to know.”

Abigail dialed immediately, listening to it ring and ring before going to voicemail. “She’s not picking up.”

“Try again.”

Abigail tried again. Still nothing.

“Where is she?” Diana murmured, worry compounding on worry.

Brooke Residence – Late Afternoon

Duane was out of the car before it had fully stopped, sprinting toward the open front door with Ivory close behind him.

Inside, they found Luis pacing the length of the living room, Celeste’s cracked phone clutched tightly in both hands, his face streaked with tears.

He looked up the moment Duane entered and rushed to him, throwing his arms around his older brother, holding on with the desperate strength of someone trying not to fall apart entirely.

“It’s the Morales,” Luis said, voice muffled against Duane’s shoulder, shaking. “They’ve been calling her, threatening her, telling her to come back to work, and she wouldn’t, and now she’s gone, Duane, it’s them, I know it’s them.”

Ivory’s eyes narrowed sharply at the mention of the name. “Morales?”

“Ron and Maeve Morales,” Luis said, pulling back slightly, wiping at his eyes. “She works there. Worked there. As a maid.”

Ivory’s expression shifted into something cold and calculating, a familiar name from her past colliding violently with the present crisis.

“I’ve got this,” she said, already turning and walking toward the door, purpose radiating off her in waves.

“Ivory, wait, you can’t drive—” Duane called after her.

“Watch me.”

He caught up to her at the car, snatching the keys from her hand before she could fully process it. “You’re not driving anywhere in the state you’re in. I’ll drive.”

He turned back briefly to Luis. “Stay here. Call us if you hear anything. We’re going to handle this.”

He got behind the wheel, and Ivory slid into the passenger seat this time, close beside him rather than in the back.

“Morales Mansion,” she said. “It’s getting late. They should be home by now.”

Duane pulled out of the driveway, glancing at her sharply. “How do you know the Morales?”

Ivory’s jaw tightened, her gaze fixed straight ahead. “That’s a story for another time. Right now, just drive.”

Creston General Hospital – Evening

The doctor finally emerged, and the entire small group surged toward him at once.

“She’s stable,” he said quickly, before anyone could speak. “Fortunately, the brain scan came back clear — no lasting damage that we can see. She’s got a concussion and some stitches at the back of her head, but she’s going to recover fully. She’s still unconscious, but that should pass within a few hours.”

The wave of relief that swept through the group was immediate and overwhelming, Diana pressing a hand to her chest, Arthur exhaling for what felt like the first time in an hour.

“Can we see her?” Diana asked.

“Briefly. She won’t be responsive yet, but you’re welcome to sit with her.”

They started toward the ward together — but Abigail, taking one step forward, suddenly swayed, her vision tunneling sharply before her knees buckled entirely.

“Abigail!” Diana shouted.

The doctor caught her just before she hit the floor, quickly signaling for a nurse. “Get a gurney, now.”

Abigail was whisked away to a separate ward, Diana and Arthur left standing in stunned, renewed panic, the doctor assuring them over his shoulder that she’d be fine, that they’d run some quick tests.

Shaken, they made their way to Hazel’s room instead, finding her small and pale against the white sheets, her head wrapped in bandages, still deeply unconscious. Diana took her hand gently, sitting beside the bed, refusing to let go.

A Few Minutes Later

A nurse appeared in the doorway. “Mr. and Mrs. Bennett? The doctor would like to see you. And your daughter Abigail is awake now — he’d like her present as well.”

Confused and anxious, they followed the nurse to a small office where Abigail sat in a chair, looking pale but alert, twisting her hands nervously in her lap.

The doctor closed the door behind them and folded his hands on his desk.

“Mrs. Rodriguez,” he began, using her married name gently, “the tests we ran came back. You’re pregnant. Approximately four weeks along, from what we can estimate.”

The room went silent.

Abigail felt something warm and terrified bloom in her chest all at once, though she kept her expression carefully neutral, unsure how to feel with her parents standing right there.

Arthur’s mouth fell open slightly, genuine shock rendering him speechless for the first time in longer than anyone could remember.

Diana, after a beat of stunned silence, let out a small, relieved breath, something like cautious happiness flickering behind her eyes despite everything.

“My period just ended yesterday,” Abigail said slowly, frowning. “I’ve been having these feelings — nausea, dizziness — but I thought it was just from menstruating. I didn’t think—”

“That can happen sometimes,” the doctor explained gently. “Some women experience light bleeding or spotting in early pregnancy that can be mistaken for a period, especially if it’s irregular or lighter than usual. Combined with the emotional stress you mentioned experiencing recently, it’s understandable you didn’t connect the symptoms right away.”

Abigail nodded slowly, processing, her hand drifting instinctively to her stomach.

Arthur finally found his voice. “Does Tyler know?”

“Not yet,” Abigail admitted quietly. “I was going to tell him. Eventually.”

Nobody said anything further on the matter, the weight of everything happening today — Hazel, Ivory not picling calls settling heavily over the small room.