Hot Driver - S01 E55

Story 1 week ago

Hot Driver - S01 E55

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 55

{Bennett Group of Companies – Boardroom – Afternoon}

The boardroom buzzed with the low hum of serious business, a dozen executives gathered around the long glass table, projections and figures glowing across the screen at the front of the room.

“If we align the Q3 projections with Hale’s incoming capital,” the finance director was saying, “we’re looking at an expansion timeline that could—”

Arthur’s phone buzzed against the table.

He glanced at it, intending to silence it and continue focusing on the meeting, but the caller ID stopped him cold.

Rodriguez Household Staff.
He frowned, holding up a hand to pause the presentation, and answered quietly. “Yes?”

The voice on the other end was frantic, breathless, barely coherent.
Arthur’s face drained of color in real time.

“What?” His voice cracked sharply through the room, and every head at the table turned. “When? Is she—”

He stood so abruptly his chair scraped loudly against the floor.

“Diana.” His voice was tight, urgent. “We need to go. Now.”

Diana rose immediately, alarmed by the look on his face. “What happened?”

“It’s Abigail,” Arthur said, already moving toward the door, phone still pressed to his ear. “There’s been an explosion. At Tyler’s mansion. She’s being taken to the hospital.”

The room fell into stunned silence.

“This meeting is over,” Arthur said without looking back, and the two of them were out the door within seconds, executives left staring at each other in bewildered silence behind them.

They reached the parking garage in a full sprint, Arthur fumbling with his keys, hands shaking for the first time in longer than Diana could remember.

“Drive,” Diana said sharply, snatching the keys from him. “You’re in no state to drive.”

He didn’t argue. He simply got in the passenger seat, staring blankly ahead as Diana peeled out of the garage, tires screeching against the concrete.

Ivy Fashion Empire – Same Time

Ivory burst out of her office so fast the door slammed against the wall behind her, her heels striking the marble floor in a frantic, uneven rhythm as she cut straight through the lobby.

Duane, seated at his usual spot, shot up the moment he registered the sound, alarm flashing across his face.

“Ivory—”

“Car. NOW,” she said, not slowing down, voice tight with barely controlled panic.

He didn’t ask questions. He fell into step beside her, matching her pace toward the exit.

They reached the car within seconds, and Ivory was already climbing into the back seat before Duane had even circled around to the driver’s side.

“What happened?” he asked, sliding in, key already in the ignition.

“Abigail,” Ivory said, voice shaking. “She’s in the hospital. Just drive. Creston General. Now.”

Duane pulled out of the lot at speed, weaving through traffic with sharp, controlled precision, glancing at her in the mirror every few seconds.

Ivory couldn’t sit still. Her leg bounced, her hands twisted together in her lap, and finally she pulled out her phone, thumb trembling as she opened her news app.

The headline hit her like a physical blow.

BREAKING: Rodriguez Mansion Destroyed in Massive Explosion — Owner Feared Dead.
Her breath caught. Her vision blurred.

“No,” she whispered, scrolling frantically for more details, finding nothing beyond speculation and grainy footage of flames consuming the estate. “No, no, no—”

Tears spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them, and she pressed a trembling hand over her mouth, muffling the sound rising in her throat.

Duane’s eyes flicked to the mirror again, worry etched deep into his features, but he said nothing, focusing instead on getting them to the hospital as fast as humanly possible.

—

{Roadside – Same Time}

Maeve’s car cut through traffic at reckless speed, weaving between lanes with a violence that sent other drivers slamming their brakes and honking furiously behind her.

She’d seen the headline on her phone screen at a red light — the burning mansion, Tyler’s name attached to it, the words feared dead searing themselves into her brain.

“No,” she muttered, gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles had gone white. “No, no, this isn’t— this can’t—”

She took a corner far too sharply, tires screeching, the car fishtailing slightly before she wrestled it back under control.

Tears blurred her vision, streaking mascara down her cheeks, and she barely registered the road in front of her, operating purely on instinct and panic as she pushed the car faster toward the Rodriguez estate.

He can’t be dead, she thought desperately, chest heaving. He can’t be. Not him. Not when I’ve barely even had him.
—

{Curtis Residence – Same Time}

Curtis sat sprawled comfortably on his couch, a glass of wine in hand, the news playing on the television across the room.

BREAKING: Rodriguez Mansion Destroyed in Massive Explosion.

He nearly choked on his wine, laughter bursting out of him before he could stop it.

“Finally,” he said aloud, grinning at the screen, satisfaction blooming warm through his chest. “Finally, that pathetic excuse of a husband is out of the picture.”

Maeve’s going to come running straight to me now, he thought, raising his glass in a private toast to himself. Where else does she have to go?

A sharp, sudden pain lanced through his skull mid-celebration, and he winced, pressing his palm hard against his temple.

Not this again, he thought, gritting his teeth against the ache. It’s getting worse. I should get that checked out. He used ART immediately, the pain didn’t subsides, it got worse.

He set his glass down, decision made. “I’ll head to the hospital,” he muttered to himself. “Get it looked at properly this time.”

He grabbed his keys, still smiling faintly despite the pain, already imagining Maeve’s grateful face once she realized exactly who’d cleared her path.

{Creston State Hospital – Waiting Room – Evening}

Diana paced a tight, anxious line across the waiting room floor, Arthur seated stiffly nearby, jaw clenched, staring at nothing.

Ivory arrived minutes later, rushing through the doors with Duane close behind her, and immediately joined the pacing, unable to sit still despite her exhaustion.

“What have they said?” Ivory asked, breathless
.
“Nothing yet,” Diana said, voice tight. “She’s still in there.”

Duane took a seat near the wall, hands clasped tightly together, trying his best to project calm he didn’t fully feel, watching the family’s collective anguish with a heavy heart.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours before the doctor finally emerged, and the entire group surged toward him at once.

“She’s stable,” the doctor said quickly, before anyone could speak. “It was severe shock, physically and emotionally. Fortunately, her pregnancy is still intact — she hasn’t lost the baby.”

A collective breath released through the room, relief flooding every face.

“However,” the doctor continued, more cautious now, “she hasn’t regained consciousness yet. Given the trauma, it may take some time. It’s almost as though…” he hesitated, choosing his words carefully, “as though some part of her isn’t ready to come back yet. We’ll continue monitoring her closely.”

“Can we see her?” Diana asked immediately.

“Of course. Follow me.”

They filed down the hallway together, and Duane hung back slightly, giving the family space, though Ivory reached back and grabbed his hand without looking, pulling him along with them.

Rodriguez Mansion – Ruins – Same Evening

Maeve’s car screeched to a stop just beyond the police barricade, the smoking ruins of the mansion still visible through the settling haze, firefighters working to fully extinguish the last stubborn flames.

Reporters swarmed the perimeter, cameras flashing, microphones extended toward anyone who looked remotely connected to the tragedy.

Maeve’s hand froze on the door handle.

If I get out, she thought, panic rising fast, they’re going to surround me. They’re going to ask questions I can’t answer. What am I even doing here?

Tears streamed freely down her face, her head pounding violently now, the pain sharp enough to make her vision swim at the edges.

She put the car in reverse instead, pulling away from the scene entirely, driving on autopilot toward her mother’s residence, the headache intensifying with every mile, her hands shaking so badly on the wheel that she barely registered running two red lights along the way.

How did I even make it home safely, she wondered distantly, pulling into her mother’s driveway with no clear memory of the last ten minutes of the drive at all.
—

{A Police Station – Same Evening}

Sadie walked through the station doors, phone already recording, her hands trembling but her resolve unshaken.

She’d debated this for days — whether to go to the police quietly, whether to simply confess privately, whether to disappear entirely and let the guilt eat her alive in silence instead.

But quiet confessions could be buried. Denied. Twisted.

Not this, she thought, holding the phone steady as she approached the front desk, already streaming live to her small, mostly-forgotten social media account. This has to be seen. Everyone needs to know the truth. Even if it destroys me.

“I need to report a crime,” she said to the officer at the desk, voice shaking but clear. “I need to confess to something. On record. Please.”

The officer’s eyebrows rose, gesturing her toward a back office, and Sadie followed, phone still recording, the live count of viewers climbing steadily behind her.

—

{Golden High – Closing Time}

The final bell rang, and students poured out of the building in loud, chattering waves.

Hazel waved goodbye to Eloise and Jason, blowing Luis a quick kiss over her shoulder before jogging toward the front gate where her driver waited.

She climbed into the car and immediately pulled out her phone, scrolling idly through notifications.

Her stomach dropped.

BREAKING: Rodriguez Mansion Destroyed in Massive Explosion — Abigail Bennett-Rodriguez Rushed to Hospital.

“Oh my god,” Hazel breathed, hands flying to her mouth. “Oh my god, drive. DRIVE. We need to get to the hospital right now!”

The driver, startled, pulled out immediately, and Hazel’s phone buzzed again almost instantly with another alert — this one a livestream notification, of all things, from an account she barely recognized.

She clicked on it out of pure reflex.

Sadie’s face filled the screen, tear-streaked, sitting across from a uniformed officer.

“…it was Emilia’s idea, but I went along with it. We put water on the stairs. We wanted Hazel to slip, to embarrass herself, we never thought—we never thought she’d actually fall like that, get hurt like that—”

Hazel’s eyes went wide, her mouth falling open, phone nearly slipping from her fingers.

“What the—” she breathed, staring at the screen in disbelief, the pieces of that horrible day suddenly clicking into a picture far uglier than she’d ever imagined.
—