Passion's Crossfire

Chapter 102

Adam

My father takes a measured breath, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure in the face of my mother's sudden intrusion. "Ava, we're in the middle of an important meeting. Can this wait?" he calmly requests, gesturing towards the formal setting of Mr. Cameron's office.

"Important meeting? What is going on here?" My mother's voice is a storm of anger, her eyes flickering between my father and me.

"Adam and I were discussing, and we decided that it's time for him to come home and take over the family business," my father explains, his tone measured and composed.

My mother's face contorts with anger. "And what, you are just going to give him everything? Hand it over to him?" she fires back, her accusatory gaze fixed on my father.

"I thought you would be happy, Mom. You always wanted that," I interject, my attempt at calm surprising even myself.

"No, not like this. Julian, what the hell is wrong with you?" Her voice rises, the pitch reaching an unsettling level.

My father stands up, his patience wearing thin. "Ava, there is simply no pleasing you. All this time, you whined about how Adam is wasting his life working for someone else and not for the business. And now, that he is taking over, you are angry?" he questions, a tinge of frustration in his voice.

"Julian, you are being an idiot. You can't just hand the business off; he has no experience!" my mother screams, her anger escalating.

"He knows what to do; I trust him," my father shouts back, his voice carrying the weight of conviction.

"You are both dense if you think I'm going to let that happen. You are handing over a business to a boy!" Her words are sharp, slicing through the tension in the room.

My father's face has turned red, veins pulsating in his temples as he confronts my mother's vehement opposition. "Mom, this is our decision. You have to stay out of it. Please, leave," I plead, trying to maintain a veneer of calm amidst the chaos.

"I'm not going anywhere. This is a mistake, and I won't let you do this, Julian. This is my life too, you know. I will also be affected by all this!" Her voice reverberates in the confined space, each word laden with frustration and resentment.

"So, all this is about you, right? Not about what's best for Adam or me; only what's best for you!" my father's voice resonates through the room, carrying the weight of frustration and accusation.

"What are you talking about, Julian? Of course, I'm looking for the best interest of our family!" my mother retorts, her voice rising to match his intensity.

"No, Mom, you have made it clear that you are not," I interject, my tone firm and resolute.

My mother's eyes narrow, her gaze locking onto mine. "Oh, so this is about your little whore. You are doing all of this just to spite me!" Her words cut through the air like a dagger, and I'm in front of her in two steps.

"Don't talk about Mallory like that," I say, my voice low and menacing. The room tightens with tension as our eyes lock in a battle of wills.

My mother lets out a chilling laugh, her disdain evident. "Or what? What will you do, Adam? You can't do anything, neither you nor your father. You are both useless without me! You would be nothing, Julian, if it wasn't for me! Nothing!" she sneers, her words dripping with venom.

My father's face tightens, a mixture of anger and frustration evident. "Ava, that's enough!" he shouts, attempting to rein in the escalating confrontation.

She takes a step toward him, undeterred. "Or what, Julian? You can't do anything; you are weak, you always have been. You would never amount to anything if it wasn't for me!" Her voice is a relentless barrage, aimed at tearing down everything in its path.

"Mom, that's enough!" I interject, my patience wearing thin.

Suddenly, my father clutches his chest, a sharp intake of breath revealing the agony etched across his face. His eyes widen, and beads of sweat form on his forehead.

"Dad?" I exclaim, rushing to his side as he collapses onto a nearby chair.

My mother's eyes widen with shock, a momentary pause in her relentless tirade. "Julian?"

"I... I can't breathe," he gasps, his voice strained.

Mr. Cameron, takes charge, swiftly dialing for emergency services. "We need an ambulance at Cameron & Associates immediately. It's a heart attack. Hurry!"

"Stay with me, Dad," I implore, my voice choked with emotion.

Within moments, the sound of sirens fills the air as the ambulance arrives. EMTs rush into the office, their trained efficiency evident as they assess my father's condition.

"He's had a severe heart attack. We need to get him to the hospital immediately," one of the EMTs states, urgency in his voice.

As they prepare to transport my father onto a stretcher, the reality of the situation sinks in. Fear grips my heart as I follow the paramedics out of the room, my mother trailing behind in a daze.

The elevator ride down feels interminable, each floor passing with excruciating slowness. The paramedics work diligently to stabilize my father as the ambulance awaits, its doors flung wide open in readiness.

"Adam, go with him. We'll follow in my car," Mr. Cameron instructs, a grave concern etched on his face.

I nod, climbing into the ambulance beside my unconscious father. The doors slam shut, and we speed away, sirens wailing. My thoughts are a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty as we navigate the bustling city streets.

Arriving at the hospital, the medical team rushes my father into the emergency room. I'm left standing in the cold, sterile corridor, grappling with the sudden turn of events. A nurse approaches, attempting to provide me with some reassurance.

"He's in good hands. The doctors will do everything they can," she says, her words offering little comfort in the face of the unknown.

As the minutes stretch into hours, the hospital becomes a place of anxious anticipation. The medical staff works tirelessly, and the air is thick with the scent of disinfectant and the distant hum of medical equipment. My mother is sitting, her gaze fixed on the wall across from her, her expression unreadable.

Eventually, a doctor emerges from the emergency room, his expression grave. I brace myself for the impending news, my heart pounding in my chest.

"I'm sorry," he begins, his voice heavy with regret. "Your father has suffered a severe heart attack. We managed to stabilize him, but he's in a coma. We're doing everything we can, but it's a critical situation."