Defender's Heartbeat

Chapter 5

Manuel

I rushed back to the mansion, my heart heavy with worry and guilt. It took me a few hours to get there, and as soon as I arrived, I rushed into the child's room, expecting to see him. I felt my heart beating fast as I climbed the staircase, but to my surprise, Enzo wasn't in his room.

"Mr. Manuel, Mr. Lorenzo is in the hospital," one of the servant girls said, her voice filled with concern. "He got sick after you left and was crying and didn't eat anything for two days. The young master didn't even drink milk. I think he fell ill because of that. So, they took him to the hospital."

I knew it was not the truth. Enzo hadn't stopped eating because he was sick; he had stopped eating because I wasn't there with him. My heart sank as I realized that my three-day absence had caused him so much distress that he had made himself ill. Gerardo must have guessed this. Maybe that's why he had asked me to return. But I doubted he was ready to accept that his son had become so emotionally dependent on me, his hired bodyguard and nanny.

I can't even remember how I got to the hospital. My mind was clouded with anxiety and desperation to see Enzo. Why the hell didn't anyone call me sooner? I felt angry. But I knew I couldn't do anything about that now.

When I rushed into the hospital, I called Mr. Garcia and told him I had arrived. A temporary bodyguard was in Enzo's room just in case because Gerardo was wealthy and had enemies due to his secret, illegal activities. As I entered, my heart ached at the sight of Enzo lying on the bed with a saline drip, either sleeping or unconscious. I hoped with every fiber of my being that he was only sleeping. My baby. Are you okay? I thought, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes.

Over the past three months, Enzo and I had spent countless hours together, as I was both his bodyguard and caretaker. Somewhere along the way, I had grown to care for him deeply, though I hadn't fully realized the extent of my emotions until now. Seeing him lying in the hospital bed, so small and vulnerable, I felt an overwhelming urge to protect and comfort him. It was almost automatic, the way my heart ached for this little boy. I found myself questioning why I was so affected by his condition and why the thought of him suffering because of my absence filled me with such profound sadness and guilt. A part of me recognized that the bond between us had become more than just a professional relationship, but I hesitated to acknowledge it. It was easier to believe that my feelings were simply a result of the time we had spent together, nothing more. But deep down, I knew there was a connection between us that I couldn't quite explain, an emotional attachment that had taken root without me even realizing it.

"How is he?" My voice cracked as I saw Enzo, the child I had grown so close to over the past few months as his bodyguard and caretaker, lying on the hospital bed, pale and fragile. It had been nearly 12 hours since his admission, and guilt washed over me for not arriving sooner.

"They said he's weak. They're giving him saline and liquid food to help him regain strength. It's concerning to see him like this," the guard said, his brow furrowed.

"You can go now," I said, and he left.

Enzo was typically such a vibrant, energetic boy. Seeing him so still in a hospital bed was devastating. I longed to hold him close and shield him from harm. Gently, I stroked his jet-black hair and adjusted his blanket, ensuring his comfort.

Shortly after my arrival, a young nurse entered, pulling me from my troubled thoughts.

"How is he doing?" I asked immediately, my gaze fixed on Enzo.

"He's still not eating, which is weakening him further. We're closely monitoring his condition and providing nutrients via IV. He must start eating soon," the nurse explained, her voice gentle and empathetic. "He's been here for about 12 hours, and we're doing our best to help him recover."