Secret Identity (Haylor)

Chapter 38: Him.

Chapter 38: Him.

Harry's POV

I felt my breathing pause as she tried to stay away and look at me in fear, disgust, and wonder.

"You what?" Her words come out sharp like it was trying to stab my chest while it attacked.

I gulp slowly, looking at her eyes but it just blinded me.

"I'm sorry." Wrong. I was supposed to explain despite my apology.

"Don't you dare say your little sorry right after you killed my daughter. My daughter!" She told me angrily with her eyebrows meeting.

Slap.

"Explain yourself!"

"I-I-I--"

"I said explain yourself!" She screams, hitting the glass of water on the side table, smashing it.

The hand marks are still present on my face, red and burning, but I had to tell her everything.

"I poisoned her, okay? I'm Harry Styles, I can afford to request an illegal shot. I myself volunteered to put the needle on your skin. That shot was too strong for the baby!" I stood up in anger but half of myself in fear.

Her eyes stared still at mine, the ocean-like blues turned ice cold.

"Illegal." She spoke with her shaky breath.

"Illegal," Eyes were now facing the floor, fist clenched with the sheets. "What you did was illegal," Taylor had a devious smile on as if she had her masterplan already.

"Against the law; forbidden." The devious smile still rests on her face as she stated the defintion like it was straight from the dictionary, making her look like she belonged to the asylum more than this place.

I gulp quietly, yes Taylor, it is illegal. Arrest me.

"You know what I hate?" She still keeps her gaze on the floor yet her mood changed bacl to innocent and lost.

"Look, Taylor, I killed your child--"

"You." Ignoring my sentence, she says her word.

She hates me.

Forever.

Like, a death penalty.

The conversation with myself continues in my head as I walk out of Taylor's hospital room, avoiding eye contact.

"That's it Styles, you know what you're doing." The voice from my earpiece tells me with his rusty tone, confusing me slightly.

"Anything wrong with your voice, sir?" I adjust the hidden object beneath my curls.

"Nothing," he coughs, "a sore throat it's become." He clears his throat more.

"Sorry," he apologizes, the rust still in his voice.

I walk fast through the dull lives of patients, making my way to the nurses station.

"Anyway, two million dollars. Guaranteed. Extra hundred thousand if you drive Swift crazy."

I smirk at the pay I have.

Call me thirsty, because I am.

"I already started working on it," I push the doors and lead myself to the parking lot. "Good that you are," I hear him sip from his tea, "we need more people like you."

"Anyway, meetup is tomorrow at the conference room as usual. I'll be giving you your reward. Sweet dreams, Harry Styles." I remove the piece after hearing his breath with the goodbye.