The room erupted into absolute chaos.
"Someone SHOT at the car?!" Mr. Levesque's voice boomed.
"They were targeting Ophelia?!" Mrs. Levesque grabbed her youngest daughter's arm protectively.
"Why would anyone want to hurt Ophe?!" Mireille demanded.
Logan pulled out his phone immediately. "I'm calling the police—"
"Wait, wait!" Ophelia's face had gone from pale to sheet-white. "That doesn't make sense. Why would anyone—I don't have enemies. I run an art gallery. I sell paintings!"
"Clearly someone disagrees," Atticus said grimly, already moving to stand beside Lyra protectively, as if whoever had targeted Ophelia might burst through the door at any moment.
Kalina watched the pandemonium from her hospital bed, feeling guilty. She'd known this revelation would cause panic, but seeing her baby sister's terrified expression made her chest ache.
Rhys, still sitting in his chair in the corner, spoke up quietly but firmly. "The police were notified the night of the accident. They have the evidence—bullet casing, tire fragments, traffic camera footage of the black SUV. They're investigating."
Everyone turned to look at him.
"You didn't think to mention this to her family?" Mr. Levesque's tone was icy.
"I reported what I witnessed," Rhys said evenly. "The police said they'd contact the vehicle's owner—which would be Miss Ophelia Levesque—once they'd processed the evidence. I assumed they'd already reached out."
"Well, they HAVEN'T!" Mrs. Levesque said, her voice shaking.
"Then that's a failure of the police department, not mine."
The tension in the room ratcheted up another notch.
Maxi, who'd been silent this entire time, finally spoke. "Rhys is right. The priority right now isn't placing blame. It's figuring out who did this and why." He looked at Ophelia, his expression serious. "Have you received any threats recently? Anything unusual? Strange messages, people following you, anything at all?"
Ophelia shook her head, looking overwhelmed. "No. Nothing. I swear, I can't think of anyone who would—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
Her face changed.
"Ophe?" Kalina sat up straighter, ignoring the twinge of pain in her head. "What is it?"
"There was..." Ophelia bit her lip. "There was an incident. A few weeks ago. At the gallery."
"What kind of incident?" Lyra asked sharply.
"A woman came in. She was... aggressive. Asking about a painting I'd sold to a private collector. She claimed it had been stolen from her family, that I had no right to sell it. She threatened to sue, to 'ruin me' if I didn't give her the buyer's information."
"And?" Mr. Levesque prompted.
"I explained that I couldn't share buyer information due to confidentiality agreements. She got angrier, started yelling. Security had to escort her out." Ophelia's hands were shaking now. "She screamed that I'd 'pay for this' as they removed her."
Mireille's eyes went wide. "Ophe, why didn't you tell us about this?!"
"Because I thought it was just an angry customer! It happens sometimes in this business. People get emotional about art. I didn't think—" Her voice cracked. "I didn't think someone would actually try to kill me over a painting!"
Logan wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she started to cry.
Maxi's expression had gone cold and calculating. "Do you have her name? Security footage?"
"Yes. Both. It's all in the gallery's system."
"Good. We'll need that for the police." Maxi pulled out his phone. "I'm calling my security team. They'll coordinate with law enforcement and review the footage."
"I'll contact our family's private investigator," Mr. Levesque added, already dialing.
"And I'm getting hospital security to lock down this floor," Atticus said grimly. "If someone tried to kill Ophelia once, and Kalina's here as a witness—"
"We're both targets now," Kalina finished quietly.
The room went silent as that realization sank in.
Meanwhile - Across Town
June Crystal was pacing in his apartment, phone clutched in his white-knuckled grip.
He'd sent that message days ago.
"Who the FUCK did you hit yesterday? That wasn't Ophelia. She's wearing beige, not purple. OMG you hit the WRONG person??"
No response.
Nothing.
Radio silence.
He pulled up the Instagram post again, zooming in on Ophelia's happy face, her matching outfit with Maximilian Blackwood.
Then he pulled up the photos from the memorial earlier that day—the ones his mother had sent to their family group chat.
There. In the background of one shot.
Two young women in matching black coats.
One of them was definitely Ophelia—he could see her face partially. The other was turned away, but similar height, similar build.
Sisters.
"Fuck," June breathed.
They'd hit Ophelia's sister.
Which meant the hit-and-run had failed.
Ophelia was alive, unharmed, and now dating Maximilian Blackwood of all people.
And some other woman was in the hospital instead.
He needed to tell Amelia.
But how could he explain this without admitting what he'd done?
Back at the Hospital
"I'm staying here tonight," Ophelia announced suddenly.
Everyone looked at her.
"Absolutely not," Mr. Levesque said immediately. "You're coming home where it's safe—"
"Kalina's here because of me," Ophelia interrupted, her voice stronger now. "Someone tried to kill me and hurt her instead. I'm not leaving her alone in this hospital."
"Ophe, I'm fine—" Kalina started.
"You have a concussion and stitches in your head!" Ophelia's eyes were fierce. "You got hurt protecting me—not on purpose, but still. I'm staying."
"The hospital won't allow—" Mrs. Levesque began.
"I'll arrange it," Maxi said quietly.
Everyone turned to look at him.
"I'll have a private room prepared adjacent to this one. Ophelia can stay there. I'll also arrange for private security for both rooms."
He met Ophelia's eyes. "If you're staying, you're staying safely."
Ophelia's expression softened. "Thank you."
Lyra studied Maxi for a long moment, clearly reassessing him. "That's... very generous of you, Mr. Blackwood."
"Maxi is fine. And it's not generosity. It's common sense." He looked at Rhys. "You witnessed the attack. You'll need protection too."
Rhys's jaw tightened. "I can handle myself."
"Can you handle professional assassins?" Maxi asked bluntly.
That shut everyone up.
"Because that's what this was," Maxi continued. "Shooting out a tire on a moving vehicle at night? That's not some angry art collector. That's someone who hired a professional."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Jesus Christ," Logan muttered.
Mireille had gone pale. "Who has Ophe pissed off badly enough to hire a hitman?!"
"That's what we need to find out," Atticus said grimly.
Mr. Levesque turned to his daughter. "Ophelia, I want you to think very carefully. Everyone you've had a conflict with in the past year. Every business deal that went wrong. Every rejected artist. Every—"
"Father, I've been thinking!" Ophelia said desperately. "And I can't come up with anyone who would go this far! The woman at the gallery is the only person who's actively threatened me, and even that seemed like... like heat-of-the-moment anger, not premeditated murder!"
"People surprise you," Rhys said quietly from his corner.
Everyone looked at him.
His expression was distant, haunted. "Sometimes the person you least suspect turns out to be capable of terrible things. Sometimes the threats you dismiss are the ones you should have taken seriously."
The room fell silent.
Kalina studied him, noting the way his hands clenched into fists, the tension in his shoulders. He wasn't just talking about Ophelia's situation.
He was talking about something else.
Someone else.
Two Hours Later
The family had finally dispersed with the promise to reconvene the next morning.
Security had been arranged—two guards stationed outside Kalina's room, two more outside the adjacent room where Ophelia would stay.
Maxi had left to coordinate with his security team and retrieve Ophelia's things from her apartment.
Logan and Mireille had been convinced to go home and rest, though both promised to return first thing in the morning.
Lyra and Atticus had left to brief the family's legal team.
Mr. and Mrs. Levesque had finally been persuaded to go home and sleep, though Mrs. Levesque had cried for ten minutes straight before leaving.
Now it was just Kalina, Ophelia, and Rhys.
Ophelia sat in the chair beside Kalina's bed, still looking shell-shocked.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Don't," Kalina said firmly. "Don't apologize. This isn't your fault."
"You're in the hospital because of me."
"I'm in the hospital because some psycho shot at a car. That's on them, not you."
Ophelia wiped her eyes. "I just... I can't believe someone wants me dead."
"We'll figure out who it is," Kalina promised. "And then we'll make them regret ever looking at you sideways."
Despite everything, Ophelia smiled slightly. "That's very protective of you."
"I'm your big sister. It's literally my job."
From the corner, Rhys cleared his throat. "I should go."
Both sisters looked at him.
"You've been here for hours," Kalina said. "Don't you have a home to go to?"
"I told you. I'm taking responsibility."
"Rhys, I'm fine. I have guards outside. My sister's here. You don't need to—"
"Someone tried to kill your sister and you got caught in the crossfire," Rhys interrupted, his voice tight. "Until we know who did this and why, neither of you is safe. So yes, I'm staying."
Kalina opened her mouth to argue.
Then she saw his face.
Really saw it.
The fear beneath the anger. The trauma lurking behind his eyes.
He's seen this before. He's lost someone before.
"Okay," she said softly. "You can stay."
Rhys looked surprised, like he'd expected more of a fight.
"But you're sleeping in an actual bed, not that torture device of a chair," Kalina added. "Ophelia, go ask the nurses for a cot or something."
"On it." Ophelia stood and headed for the door.
Once she was gone, Kalina looked at Rhys seriously.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For saving me. For staying. For... everything."
Rhys's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "You're welcome."
"But if you start interrogating me about befriending your grandfather again, I'm kicking you out."
And just like that, the tension broke.
Rhys's lips twitched. "Noted."
Outside, through the window, the sun was setting.
And somewhere in the city, someone was realizing they'd failed to kill their target.
The question was: would they try again?
Meanwhile - Crystal Manor
June finally got a response to his message.
"Aware of the mistake. Handling it. Stay out of it."
He stared at the text, his blood running cold.
Handling it.
That meant they were going to try again.
They were going to go after Ophelia a second time.
And this time, they might not miss.
June looked at his closed bedroom door, behind which his sister Amelia was probably still crying over Maximilian Blackwood.
He had to tell someone.
But who?
If he went to the police, he'd implicate himself.
If he told Amelia, she'd either not believe him or have a complete breakdown.
If he warned Ophelia... he'd have to explain how he knew.
He was trapped.
All because his sister loved a man who didn't love her back.
All because he'd been stupid enough to help her.
June buried his face in his hands.
What have I done?