Hot Driver - S01 E83

Story 4 days ago

Hot Driver - S01 E83

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 83

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Morales Mansion – Same Time

Ron sat sprawled across his study couch, papers spread across the low table in front of him, each page scrawled with notes and diagrams in his own increasingly manic handwriting.

Administer through drink. Memory suppression should target the specific timeframe — nothing before, nothing after. Just him. Just erase Duane from her memory entirely. He thpught of how Ivory will come running to him after she forget about Duane and she sees him as the sweet boy in their college days.

He laughed, low and satisfied, imagining it already — Ivory’s confused, blinking eyes meeting his own with none of the hatred she usually reserved for him, no memory of the driver at all, no memory of anything except the version of events he intended to feed her.

She’ll finally see me the way she used to, he thought, savoring the image. Before all this. Before him. Thinking of he started growing attachments for her after he took her vîrginity but he has to end everything according to tge rules of the bet.

The laughter died in his throat suddenly, cut short by a sharp, stabbing pain that lanced through his chest without warning.

He gasped, doubling forward, one hand flying to grip the edge of the table.

Just as fast as it had come, it eased, fading into a dull, lingering ache before disappearing almost entirely.

He sat there a moment, breathing hard, unsettled despite himself.

Probably nothing, he told himself, straightening slowly. Stress. Too much wine.

“GRACE,” he shouted toward the hallway. “Bring me a juice from the fridge.”

Footsteps hurried toward the kitchen, and Ron leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes, letting the plan settle back over his thoughts like a familiar, comfortable blanket.

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Creston General Hospital – Ivory’s Ward – Morning

Ivory’s eyes opened slowly, the sedative still thick in her system, blinking against the pale morning light filtering through the blinds.

She reached instinctively toward the space beside her.

Empty.

Panic surged instantly, cutting through the last fog of sedation. She sat up too fast, head spinning, eyes darting frantically around the unfamiliar hospital room.

Diana sat in a chair near the window. Arthur stood beside her. Hazel was curled in another chair, eyes red and swollen.

“Where’s Duane,” Ivory said, voice already climbing. “Where is he? Bring him to me right now.”

Nobody answered immediately..

“WHERE IS HE?” She was on her feet now, swaying slightly, yanking IV lines free without a second thought. “Mum. MUM. Tell me where he is.”

Diana’s face crumpled, and she rose slowly, crossing the room to take Ivory’s hands in both of her own.

“Sweetheart,” she said gently, though her voice trembled, “he’s been transferred. To Canada. His — Ivory, listen to me — his biological parents, the Hale family, they found out he’s their son. He needed a transfusion, a specific blood type, and his siblings there could provide it. They had to move fast.”

“Canada?” Ivory’s voice cracked. “He’s in CANADA? Without me?”

“He was unconscious, Ivory. It happened while you were sedated. There wasn’t time to—”

The door opened. A doctor stepped in, clipboard in hand, and Ivory crossed the room in three furious strides, grabbing his collar before he’d even fully registered her presence.

“Where is Duane Brooke,” she demanded, eyes wild. “Tell me he’s alive. Tell me right now.”

The doctor’s expression softened with practiced, careful sympathy. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry, I don’t have direct updates on a transferred patient, I only know—”

Ivory released him and bolted, shoving past Hazel, past the door, out into the corridor before anyone could stop her.

“IVORY!” Diana’s voice chased after her, but she didn’t slow.

Hazel dropped her face into her hands, quiet sobs shaking her shoulders. Arthur exhaled heavily, pressing his palm against his forehead, and Diana simply stood frozen in the doorway, watching her eldest daughter disappear down the hallway barefoot, hospital gown still loosely tied, utterly beyond reasoning with.

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