--: Author's POV: --
The London fog finally began to lift, replaced by a cold, pale sunlight that filtered through the heavy velvet curtains. The estate was terrifyingly quiet. The frantic energy of the night before—the shouting, the arrival of long-lost family, the medical panic—had settled into a heavy, expectant stillness.
Inside the bedroom, the monitors continued their steady, rhythmic *beep*.
Keigan and Keiran hadn't moved. They were like two sentinels guarding a sleeping temple. Keiran had eventually drifted into a shallow sleep, his head resting near Jay-Jay's elbow, his small hand still hooked into her sleeve. Keigan, however, remained wide awake. His eyes were bloodshot, tracking every rise and fall of Jay-Jay's chest as if his own breathing depended on hers.
Outside the door, the rest of the world was waiting. Tita Jeana, Jaspher, and the F4 were slumped in the hallway chairs or pacing the foyer, none of them willing to go further than a few feet from the room.
Then, the rhythm of the heart monitor shifted.
--: Jay-Jay's POV: --
The white hallway was gone.
I felt like I was being pulled through thick, heavy mud. Every part of me ached—my head felt like it was being squeezed by an iron band, and my throat was as dry as the desert. I didn't want to open my eyes. The darkness was safe. In the darkness, I didn't have to remember the black suit or the way the rain felt at the funeral.
But then, I felt a weight.
Something warm and small was pressed against my arm. A hand was holding mine—not with the desperate, crushing grip of a "Boss," but with a gentle, grounding heat.
I forced my eyelids to move. They felt like they were glued shut. Slowly, the world began to bleed in. Not white, but a soft, blurred grey.
"Ate?"
The whisper was so quiet I thought I imagined it. I blinked, my vision finally focusing on a head of messy dark hair resting right next to me.
"Kei...ran?"
My voice didn't sound like mine. It was a broken, dusty rasp.
--: Keigan's POV: --
My heart nearly stopped.
I was on my feet before I even realized I had moved. I leaned over her, my breath catching in my throat as I saw her eyes—tired, glassy, but open—looking back at us.
"Ate Jay?" I whispered, my voice thick with a relief so sharp it hurt. "Ate, you're awake. Don't move. Just... just breathe."
Keiran scrambled up, his eyes wide and wet. "Ate! You're back! You didn't go to the dark place!"
Jay-Jay's eyes flickered between us. She looked confused, her gaze drifting toward the IV line in her arm and then toward the door. She tried to sit up, but her body betrayed her, a small groan of pain escaping her lips.
"Stay down," I urged, gently pressing my hand to her shoulder. "The doctor said you need rest. You had a fever that almost... it was bad, Jay. Really bad."
She swallowed hard, her eyes searching mine. "Keifer... he told me..." She trailed off, her brow furrowing as if she were trying to catch a disappearing dream. "He told me to take care of myself. He was so... annoying. Even there."
A small, watery laugh escaped her, followed by a cough. I quickly reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, helping her take a sip.
"He's right for once," I murmured. "You scared us, Jay. You can't do that again."
--: Author's POV: --
The sound of voices inside the room acted like a magnet. The door, which had been left ajar, was pushed open.
Jaspher was the first one in. He didn't look like the cold, imposing man who had arrived the night before. He looked like a father who had just been given a second chance. He stopped at the foot of the bed, his eyes locking onto Jay-Jay's.
Behind him, Jeana pushed through, her face streaked with fresh tears.
"Jay-Jay!" Jeana sobbed, rushing to the side of the bed. "Oh, thank God. My baby is awake."
Jay-Jay's eyes widened as she looked at her mother, and then shifted to the man standing behind her. The confusion returned, sharper this time. She looked at the sharp jawline, the eyes that mirrored her own, and the way he stood—with a quiet strength that felt strangely familiar.
"Mom?" Jay-Jay rasped, her hand trembling as she reached for Jeana. "Why... How is he here? You don't have any problem..?"
Jaspher took a step forward, his voice low and trembling. "I'm here because I'm not leaving you again. Not like this."
The room began to fill—Aries, Angelo, and Percy hovering in the doorway, their faces finally losing that haunted, hollow look. The "Wall" had broken, but as Jay-Jay looked around at the faces of her mother, her newfound father, and the brothers who had refused to leave her side, she realized she didn't need to be a wall anymore.
She just needed to be Jay-Jay.
--: Jay-Jay's POV: --
Everything was too much. The voices, the faces, the smell of the hospital-grade medicine. But as my mom climbed onto the bed to hold me, and my brothers crowded around, I felt a strange, new sensation.
The weight in my chest—the one that felt like a pile of stones—was still there. Keifer was still gone. The mourning wasn't over.
But for the first time in my life, I wasn't the only one holding the stones. There were hands everywhere, reaching out to carry the weight with me.
"I'm tired," I whispered into my mom's shoulder, my eyes drifting shut again.
"Then sleep, baby," a man's voice—*his* voice—replied softly. "We've got you. All of us."
And this time, when I closed my eyes, I didn't see a white hallway. I just felt the sun on my face.
______
--: Author's POV: --
Fifteen days had passed. The London estate was slowly breathing again, though the air still felt thin and the hallways remained hushed.
The grief hadn't left, but the "Wall" had changed. Jay-Jay was no longer trying to be a shield of iron; she was trying to be a bridge. On the doctor's strict orders for "light activity," the morning walk had become their sacred ritual—the only time the world felt quiet enough to breathe.
--: Jay-Jay's POV: --
The ground felt solid under my sneakers, a far cry from the shifting, watery floor of the white hallway from my fever.
I kept my pace slow, my lungs still tight, but the cold air helped. To my left, Keigan walked with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. To my right, Keiran was skipping occasionally, trying to catch the low-hanging mist with his mittens.
"Ate, look! The squirrels are out today," Keiran whispered.
"They're faster than you today, Kei," I teased, a small, genuine smile finally reaching my lips.
But as we approached the iron gate of the park, the air shifted. A black van with tinted windows was idling at the curb, its engine a low, predatory growl. My heart skipped. It didn't look like a delivery. It looked like a trap.
--: Keigan's POV: --
I saw the van, and my blood ran cold. My hand instinctively twitched toward my waist, but I was empty-handed. We were just supposed to be walking.
"Ate..." I started, my voice tight.
I moved to step in front of her, but I didn't get the chance.
--: Jay-Jay's POV: --
The side door of the van began to slide open. My brain didn't panic; it clicked into a mode I thought I had buried with the papers. The "Boss" didn't just wake up; she took control.
"Keigan, get behind me! Now!" I commanded, my voice snapping like a whip.
"Ate, no—"
"I said BEHIND ME!" I barked, not giving him an inch to argue. I shoved him back, using my momentum to put myself between the van and the boys. "Keiran, hold Keigan's hand and don't let go!"
Two men in tactical masks lunged out. They thought I was a weak link—a girl recovering from a fever. They were wrong.
As the first man reached for me, I didn't scream. I moved. I stepped into his space, using his own weight against him, and drove my palm hard into his chin. His head snapped back, and I followed up with a sharp, calculated kick to his knee. He went down with a grunt of pain.
"Ate!" Keiran gasped, his eyes wide.
Another man tried to grab my waist. I spun, my elbow connecting solidly with his temple. I felt the jar of the impact all the way up my arm. For a split second, I wasn't a student or a grieving girl—I was the daughter of the man who had just flown across the world for me. I was the one who had survived Section E.
I was winning. I was actually holding them off.
"Keigan, run! Get Keiran back to the gates!" I shouted over my shoulder, breathing hard, my eyes locked on the remaining three men who were circling closer.
--: Author's POV: --
Jay-Jay fought like a woman possessed. Even in her weakened state, her movements were sharp, fueled by a terrifying desperation to keep the Watson brothers safe. She managed to shove a third man back into the van, her fingers clawing at his mask.
But she was one person, and they were professional.
While she was focused on the two in front of her, a fourth man—who had slipped out of the front passenger seat unnoticed—circled around the back of the van.
Keigan saw him first. "ATE! WATCH OUT!"
--: Jay-Jay's POV: --
I heard Keigan's voice, a jagged scream of warning. I started to turn, my hand reaching out to ward off whatever was coming, but I was too slow.
*CRACK.*
A heavy, cold weight—the butt of a handgun or a weighted baton—slammed into the back of my skull.
The sound was sickeningly loud, echoing inside my head like a bell. For a heartbeat, the world turned a brilliant, blinding white. Then, the colors began to bleed. The grey London pavement rose up to meet me.
"Ate!"
Keiran's voice sounded like it was underwater. I felt my knees hit the ground first, then my palms. I tried to crawl, tried to reach for them, but my muscles felt like they had turned into lead.
I saw a pair of heavy boots stop in front of my face. I looked up, my vision spinning in dizzying circles. I saw Keigan being tackled, saw Keiran being lifted into the air, his little legs kicking frantically.
"No..." I whispered, but no sound came out.
The world tilted on its axis. The pale morning sun flickered and then went out completely, leaving nothing but a cold, crushing darkness as I felt myself being dragged toward the open door of the van.
--: Author's POV: --
The warehouse felt like a tomb. Located on the desolate outskirts of London, the air inside was thick with the scent of stagnant water, rust, and the metallic tang of old machinery. The only light came from a single, bare bulb swinging rhythmically from a frayed wire in the ceiling, casting nauseating, elongated shadows that danced across the cracked concrete floor.
Jay-Jay was bound tightly to a heavy wooden chair in the center of the room. Her head was throbbing—a sharp, white-hot pulse of pain at the base of her skull where the baton had connected. Her vision swam, blurred and dizzy, but the cold air hitting her face helped her maintain a thin, fragile grip on consciousness.
A few meters away, Keigan and Keiran were huddled together on the damp floor. Two of Clyde's hired thugs stood over them, their faces masked, their hands resting ominously on heavy batons. Keiran was trembling, his small sobs echoing in the vast, hollow space, while Keigan sat as still as a statue, his eyes fixed on Jay-Jay with a look that was terrifyingly calm.
Then, the sound of slow, rhythmic, and mocking applause shattered the silence.
Clyde stepped out from the darkness of the loading dock, a folder of legal documents tucked under one arm. He looked rejuvenated by the chaos he had caused, a sharp contrast to the grieving boys in front of him. He walked toward Keigan with a predatory, self-satisfied grin.
"It's funny how the world works, isn't it?" Clyde mused, his voice smooth and oily. "One day you're the untouchable Watson heirs, and the next, you're sitting in the dirt. Keifer is dead, your mother is gone, and suddenly, the crown falls onto the head of the weak little brother. The Watson Company belongs to you now, Keigan. Or at least, it does for the next five minutes."
--: Keigan's POV: --
I looked at the folder Clyde was tapping against his palm. I knew exactly what was inside: a total transfer of assets. Every factory, every patent, every cent my mother had worked for and Keifer had fought to protect.
"Don't do it, Keigan!"
Ate Jay-Jay's voice was a raspy, painful sound. I looked up at her. Her lip was split, and her skin was even paler than it had been during the fever, but her eyes were still blazing. She was still trying to be the shield, even while tied to a chair.
"Shut her up," Clyde snapped, not even looking at her. One of the thugs stepped forward and tightened the gag around her mouth. She let out a muffled grunt of protest, her eyes never leaving mine.
Clyde knelt down in front of me, the smell of his expensive cologne clashing with the rot of the warehouse.
"I'm not signing," I said, my voice flat. "You think you can just take it? My mother died for that company. Kuya Keifer spent his life building it. I won't let a coward like you touch a single brick."
Clyde didn't get angry. Instead, he smiled—a slow, terrifying widening of his lips. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping into a whisper that was meant only for me.
"You're brave when it's just your legacy on the line, Keigan. But what about her?" He flicked his eyes toward Jay-Jay. "If you don't sign, I'm taking your precious 'Ate' into that back room. It's soundproof, you know. I'll tie her to the bed, and Keigan... you know exactly what I'll do. You won't see her, but you'll hear her. And when I'm done, she'll never be able to look you in the eye again."
My blood didn't just turn cold; it felt like it had turned into liquid nitrogen. A violent, shaking fury bubbled up in my chest, but I suppressed it. I looked at Keiran, who was clutching my arm, and then at Jay-Jay.
"You're making a massive mistake," I said, and to my own surprise, I started to smirk. "You think you've won because you have a van and a few masks? You're so focused on the living, Clyde, that you forgot about the one who really watches over us."
Clyde laughed, a loud, echoing sound that bounced off the metal rafters. "What? Is your little brother going to grow a spine and save you?" He kicked Keiran's foot mockingly.
"No," I replied, my eyes darkening. "He always protects us, doesn't he? He's protecting us right now."
Clyde's laughter grew harsher. "Seriously? You're an idiot. Do you think a dead man is going to crawl out of the Thames and save you? Keifer is a pile of ash, Keigan. He's not coming. No one is coming."
--: Author's POV: --
Clyde's patience snapped. He stood up, his face reddening. "Sign the damn papers, or I'm taking her. Right now."
He turned on his heel and began walking toward Jay-Jay.
"Mmmph! Mmmph!"Jay-Jay thrashed in her chair, her eyes wide with terror and a desperate plea for Keigan to hold his ground. She didn't want him to give up the company. She was willing to endure whatever Clyde had planned if it meant keeping the Watsons' legacy safe.
Clyde reached her, grabbing her by the hair and forcing her head back. "Last chance, boy. Do I take her to the room, or do you sign?"
"I'LL SIGN!" Keigan screamed.
Clyde stopped, a triumphant glint in his eyes. He tossed the folder at Keigan's feet. "Smart choice. I knew you didn't have the stomach for the alternative."
"Keigan, no!" Jay-Jay managed to spit the gag out of her mouth, her voice cracking. "Don't you dare! You're wasting everything Kuya and your mother did! I can handle it, just don't sign!"
Clyde turned and backhanded her—hard. The sound of the slap was like a gunshot in the silent room. Jay-Jay's head snapped to the side, and the force of the blow sent her and the chair tumbling to the concrete floor.
"ATE!" Keigan and Keiran shrieked together.
Jay-Jay lay on her side, the rough concrete scraping her cheek. She looked up at them, blood trickling from her lip, and gave them a bitter, heart-breaking smile. "I'm okay... I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Keigan, please... keep the company."
But Keigan wasn't looking at the company anymore. He was looking at the signature line. He grabbed the pen and scribbled his name with a ferocity that tore the paper. He didn't look sad. He didn't look defeated. He looked like a man placing a bet on a fixed game.
--: Keigan's POV: --
I handed the folder back to Clyde. My heart was thundering, but not from fear. From the knowledge of what was coming next.
"There," I said. "Now leave us. You have what you wanted."
Clyde flipped through the pages, a smug smirk on his face. "Leave you? Keigan, I thought you were smarter than that. Why would I leave the rightful heirs alive to sue me later? Dead men tell no tales, after all."
"I warned you twice, Clyde," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous, low rumble. "You're making a mistake you can't come back from. You think you're the only one who knows how to play this game?"
Clyde just laughed, waving a hand at his men. "Take the boys to the basement. As for the girl..." He grabbed Jay-Jay by the arm, hauling her up from the floor. "I'm taking her to the room. I need to thank her for her help in making you sign so quickly."
"NO! LET HER GO!" Keiran screamed, lunging for Clyde's leg, only to be shoved back by a thug.
"ATE!" I roared as Clyde dragged her toward the heavy, soundproof door at the back of the warehouse.
Jay-Jay fought with everything she had, her heels dragging against the floor, her eyes locked on us until the very last second. Clyde shoved her inside and slammed the door shut, the heavy iron bolt clicking into place.
I looked down at the digital watch on my wrist, the seconds ticking away. *3... 2... 1...*
The lights in the warehouse didn't just flicker. They died.