The Enticing CEO’s Chosen Bride

Chapter 2050

Time ticked away agonizingly, each second a sharp blade torturing him relentlessly.

Without warning, he reached out and lifted the police tape, striding into the restricted area. The blue veins on his forehead stood out like cords, his grim expression warning everyone to keep their distance.

"Sir!" A firefighter stepped in to stop him. "The situation is still dangerous. Please work with us."

"Back off!"

The firefighter was taken aback, momentarily stunned by the force of the words.

"Sir, please stay calm." But the firefighter was resolute in not letting him through.d2

Then, the radio in his jacket pocket crackled to life. "There's a critically injured person aboard Helicopter 1, needs immediate transport to the hospital. Helicopter 2, please move in to assist."

Another chopper appeared beside it, and everyone watched as the bloodied woman who had just been hoisted up was transferred to the new helicopter.

The first helicopter remained in place.

The firefighter who was holding Seth back let out a sigh of relief, telling him, "Sir, the people inside still have vital signs. The rescue is ongoing."

Hearing this, Seth looked up, his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles threatened to tear through his skin.

*

Cicely's ears rang, muting all sound. She slowly raised her head, taking in her surroundings. The helicopter outside her window was still there, but the world was eerily silent. A heavy weight pressed against her from behind.

She suddenly remembered the figure who had lunged toward her just before the explosion. Her eyes widened in terror, and just as she began to push herself up, the weight behind her lightened, and a familiar form fell beside her.

"Issac..." She quickly knelt and turned, pulling Issac into her arms. "Issac, are you okay?"

She hugged him tight, crying in a panic, wiping the blood from the corners of his mouth, his nose, his eyes, and his ears. "What do we do? Issac, what do we do? Please, I'm scared."

Her cries were desperate, a profound helplessness and sorrow in her voice.

Issac, watching her lips move, guessed what she was saying. Seeing her panicked face and tears, he knew she was crying for him. It seemed like the first time.

It pained him even more that he couldn't hear her sobs.

He had succeeded in being the most trusted and dependable person by her side.

He reached out to wipe away the tears streaming down Cicely's face. "I'm okay, don't be scared." With those words, a gush of blood spilled from his mouth.

Cicely's eyes filled with terror, and instinctively, she tried to staunch the flow of blood, feeling its warm trail in her palms. "No. Issac, please be alright. I'm scared, I'm so scared. Don't leave me."

She cried like a child, fear overriding everything else. She had always been bold and brash, willfully indulgent because Issac had always been there, giving her the courage to face anything.

She had never truly been afraid.

Not like she was now.

Dad scared her, and Issac had to scare her, too.

Issac swallowed hard, fighting down the metallic taste that flooded his mouth again. He moved, and a searing pain shot through his back. He winced, swallowing back the blood.

He gently lifted Cicely onto her feet, a wave of relief washing over him as he noted she was unscathed. Her preservation caused a smile to unfurl across his bloody face. Guiding her to the window, he supported her arm as he aided her in climbing out.

The firefighter in the helicopter reached out to pull her aboard. As soon as Cicely was on the aircraft, she turned back, her face filled with hope, looking for Issac.

Issac stood by the window, smiling at her once more. Cicely's mind went blank. She rushed to the edge of the helicopter, held back by the firefighter. "Issac, come on. Get on the helicopter."

Issac's face held an unchanging, heartfelt grin. He pointed upwards and said something to her.

Cicely thought she could hear a little now, but still couldn't make out his words. However, she saw his lips clearly form three words—

[Wait for me].

He was asking her to wait. But why?

She shook her head, crying out, "Issac, come on. What are you doing?"

Issac stood silently, watching her for a moment, then suddenly turned and walked back inside.

"Issac!" Her piercing scream echoed, even reaching the crowd fifteen floors below.

Seth felt a painful throb in his brow. She was alive!

The firefighter held onto the distraught Cicely firmly, reminding her, "Miss, he was pointing to the upper floors; he's probably asking you to wait for him up there."

Cicely's sobbing ceased for a moment. She then quickly grasped the firefighter's hand, "To the eighteenth floor. Take me to the eighteenth floor."

*

The stairwell was nearly blocked again, but Issac pushed through as if the obstructions were nothing, finding just enough space to squeeze through.

He climbed towards the upper floors, the stairwell shrouded in smoke and heat, more suffocating than outside.

He covered his chest, coughing every few steps, each cough bringing up fresh blood. The three floors from the fifteenth to the eighteenth took him ten minutes to ascend.

The eighteenth floor was in much better shape than below. He staggered into Seth's office. The decor was understated and luxurious, strict and solemn as if untouched by the chaos. He smiled faintly, imagining Cicely lounging there in boredom.

Then, he found the door to the rest area and pushed it open. His gaze immediately landed on the pure white object at the center of the room.

He walked over slowly, wanting to touch the most beautiful wedding dress he'd ever seen, but his hands, stained with blood and dirt, stopped him, hovering just above the fabric as he traced the dress's silhouette, touching every inch without contact.

Such a beautiful person deserved such a beautiful dress.

He closed his eyes, picturing Cicely in the dress and chuckled softly. She must be the most beautiful. If only he could see it with his own eyes.

The taste of blood surged in his throat, and he turned to cough up another clot.

Knowing he couldn't delay any longer, he wiped the blood from his mouth and turned to the bed, pulling off the sheets with trembling hands. He wrapped the wedding dress carefully, holding it close as he left the office.

Perched on the 18th floor window, Cicely's eyes frantically scanned the chaos below until they found Issac. Her heart swelled, tears streaming down her cheeks as she called out, "Issac! Issac, over here!"

Issac, cradling the precious wedding gown in his arms, handed it off to a firefighter before boarding the helicopter, his gaze meeting Cicely's hopeful one.

Cicely let out a sigh of relief, quietly taking her seat next to him, her fingers gripping his arm tightly.

The firefighter, glancing at his own blood-soaked palms, hesitated to alarm Cicely and instead murmured to the pilot, "Head straight to the hospital."

The chopper touched down on the hospital's helipad within five minutes where the emergency team was ready and waiting. But Issac didn't move to get off. Opening his eyes, which had been tightly shut the whole journey, he looked at Cicely. "You need to find your father," he said gently. "Don't worry him."

"I will, but you need to get off too."

Issac, still partially deaf from the explosion, focused intently on her lips. "Go ahead. Go find your father."

The more he insisted, the more Cicely sensed something was terribly wrong. "Why are you in such a rush to send me away? Are you hiding something from me?"

"No. I..." A cough interrupted him, and blood spilled from his mouth. Cicely reached out instinctively to catch it, her hand coming back sticky with blood. She froze, turning to see his back, only to find the helicopter seat soaked in red. A pool of blood had accumulated beneath him.

For a few seconds, she was speechless, then panic set in. "Doctor! Doctor! We need help here."

"Miss," Issac began, grabbing her wrist as she started to cry again.

Cicely looked down, her eyes glazed with tears, "No. I don’t want that. You need treatment now."

"Miss, I'm sorry." Issac cut her off with a voice weak but firm.

She stared at him, quieting down a bit as he smiled weakly, glancing at the wedding dress wrapped in a sheet beside him.

"I saw the dress, it's beautiful. Good thing I managed to get it back for you." He paused as the helicopter's engines began to quiet down. In the silence, his words were crystal clear. "But I guess this will be the last thing I can do for you."

Cicely's face turned pale, her lips trembling as Issac continued.

"You told me missing your wedding would break your heart more than if anyone else did, apart from the groom, of course. That made me happy. I promised to always be there for you, but I'm sorry, Miss. I think I'm going to have to break that promise."

Cicely shook her head, "I won't allow you to break your promise. You said you'd be there for all the important moments in my life. Aren't you always the one who keeps your word? I won't let you break it."

"Having your trust and reliance has been enough for me. I wanted to protect you, always, but it seems I can't this time. The greatest regret is not wearing the suit you picked for me, and not being there to give you away."

Cicely wept like a child, just as she had in the helicopter. "Issac, I can't bear these words. Don't leave me. Dad's sick. I'm scared. I'm scared without you. Please, don't say these things. I beg you."

Issac swallowed hard, his heart aching for Cicely, yet feeling powerless to help. He knew his own body all too well, and he knew she was truly scared now. Too many things had happened that day, and she had endured far too much. She needed someone by her side more than anything else - but all he seemed to be doing was upsetting her further.

*

Creighton was still in resuscitation. Issac was wheeled into the adjacent emergency room.

Cicely, numb and ghost-like, couldn't believe that the two men who loved her most were now fighting for their lives.

What kind of day was this? A day that plunged her from heaven into hell.

She knelt outside Creighton's operating room, eerily calm, the calmness almost terrifying.

Seth arrived at the hospital to find Cicely in this state. He approached and tried to lift her up, but her voice stopped him cold. "Don't touch me."

"The floor is cold," he said softly.

Cicely remained silent.

"Cicely..."

"Please leave," she said in the same flat tone. "I don't want my father to hear your voice. He certainly wouldn't want to see you. If you want me to go back to deal with the destruction of the program, well, my father doesn't want me to go, so I won't. Let them come to the hospital if they want to investigate. I'll cooperate. As for everything else, I don't want to talk to you right now."

Seth stood up, looking down at her, his face a mixture of concern and frustration.

Charlie arrived minutes later with a cushion, squatting beside Cicely. "Ma'am, the cold floor isn't good for you. Please, use this cushion. Mr. Creighton cherishes you, and he wouldn't want to see you like this." He mentioned Mr. Creighton on purpose, hoping to persuade her.

Cicely glanced at the cushion from Seth's car, then looked away, ignoring it.

Charlie looked up at Seth, biting his lip.

Seth watched Cicely, his jaw clenched, saying nothing.

After over an hour of kneeling, the doors of the emergency room finally opened.

Seth's eyes were fixed on Cicely as she slowly stood up, her legs shaky and numb from having been seated in the stiff hospital chairs for too long. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her, a stark reminder of how close she was to collapsing all over again. Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

She found herself caught in someone's embrace, enveloped by a familiar scent that held her tight against a strong chest, but Cicely's mind was elsewhere, her fingers white-knuckled as they clung to the doctor's arm.

"How's my dad? Please, tell me he's okay," Cicely implored with urgency straining her voice.

The doctor's expression was somber as his eyes met hers. "We've stabilized him for now, but I won't sugarcoat it – his condition is critical. He hasn't regained consciousness. You can visit him in the ICU tomorrow afternoon for thirty minutes."

Cicely's eyes sparkled as she pulled a faint smile, which also seemed like a cry, onto her pale face. "Alright," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The tension that had been holding her upright dissolved, and she felt like melting wax, her body no longer able to support its own weight. Seth's arms were the only thing keeping her from the floor.

It had been a sleepless night, and she hadn't had a bite or sip since it all started. In less than a day, she'd been through more turmoil than she'd ever known.

Exhaustion seeped into her bones, and every time she closed her eyes, it took monumental effort to force them open again. All she craved was rest, but reality was unforgiving.

There was no one to share her burden. Issac, her only ally, was now fighting for his life behind those emergency room doors. She had no one to lean on.

As Creighton was wheeled out, the nurses wouldn't allow anyone close. Cicely didn't have the strength to walk on her own, and she didn't resist as Seth guided her to the ICU doors, only to be shut out.

Inside, she could see the doctors in their sterile gowns moving silently around her father's bed. Cicely leaned against the heavy door, peering through the small window for what felt like an eternity before she finally turned to leave.

"Go get some rest," Seth's deep voice commanded from behind her, leaving no room for debate.

Cicely paused, then pushed against him with what little strength she had left.

"I'm not saying anything for you just to reject me, so if you don’t want me to carry you there, you better listen to me."

She hesitated, leaning against the wall for support, glancing towards the distant elevator, her pale lips parting as if to speak but then closing again, conserving her energy. “Can’t you leave me alone?”

The sound of Seth's footsteps approached, and Cicely spun around, her gaze icy as she held his in a silent challenge.

"Issac's still in there fighting for his life. What makes you think I can just rest easy? Don't paint me as heartless when I'm not."

A shadow crossed Seth's usually impassive features, his fingers curling slightly, a frown creasing his forehead as an unsettling feeling took root in his chest.

He could feel her resentment. Indeed, every word she had thrown at him at the office was laced with blame.

She blamed him for not trusting her, for wanting to send her to the authorities.

Cicely moved towards the elevator, and Seth caught up, lifting her into his arms without a word. Her body tensed in his hold, but she said nothing more.

She felt terrible, mentally and physically. She didn't want to waste another ounce of her strength or energy on him.

Against her expectations, Seth carried her to the outside of Issac's emergency room. This time, he forcefully sat her down on a bench, draping his jacket over her shoulders.

As the emergency room door swung open, Cicely's head snapped up, her heart racing as the doctor emerged in a rush.

Jumping to her feet, she asked frantically, "Doctor, how is he?"

"He lost a lot of blood, and his organs..." the doctor began, but a piercing look from Seth cut him off mid-sentence.

"We're doing everything we can. Please, step back."

Cicely retreated, collapsing back into Seth's embrace, watching helplessly as the doctor hurried away.

Seth urged her to sit, but she stubbornly remained standing.

When the doctor returned, arms laden with blood bags, Cicely approached again, her face a portrait of desperate pleading. "Doctor, please. I'm begging you, you must save him."

Begging.

Seth felt a hammer blow to his chest, his gaze darkening like night.

To the doctor, Cicely's plea was one he'd heard too many times, unaware of the weight her simple plea carried. "We'll do our utmost to save the patient," he assured before the door closed behind him, leaving them in a suffocating silence.

Cicely sat on the bench, her eyes fixed on the clock above the emergency room door.

Charlie returned with a bag from the local deli. "Ma'am, please eat something," he whispered, holding out the bag.

Cicely didn't respond, her eyes unblinking, her body refusing to acknowledge the offering.

Seth glanced down at the watch on his wrist, a gift from Cicely, and stayed silent. Charlie, still holding the deli bag, watched Seth with worry.

No words were exchanged.

Moments later, Brody arrived, his usual composure marred by evident distress and exhaustion.

Cicely wanted to shrink away, uncertain how to face Brody, the father of Issac. She stood up, her voice trembling with guilt and sorrow. "Brody, I'm so sorry."

"Miss," Brody interrupted gently, his eyes hollow. "You don't need to apologize. Looking after you was Issac's life mission and duty. If you were the one hurt today, I'd never forgive him."

Cicely bit her lip, her sickly pallor flushed with pain and guilt. The words Issac had said on the hospital roof that day were clearly his goodbye. She didn't know what was wrong with him, but it must have been serious for him to say such final words.

He had always been there to protect and care for her, but he never mentioned dying for her.

Brody forced a weak smile. "Miss, please eat something and rest. Issac's a strong man. I'll keep watch and let you know the moment there's news."

Cicely shook her head, but Brody patted her shoulder reassuringly. "Issac cared deeply for you, and he couldn't stand to see you unhappy. He'd be worried sick to see you like this."

Cicely's eyes flickered with emotion, and Charlie quickly stepped forward, offering the deli bag to her. "Ma'am, this is your favorite soup."

This time, she didn't refuse. She stayed seated on the bench, holding the takeout container, eating her soup in silence.

Seth watched her every move, and when she put down her spoon halfway through, he frowned. "Finish it."

Cicely simply placed the container beside her on the bench, her actions speaking louder than words.

Seth and Cicely's time together was mostly a mystery to Charlie, who only caught glimpses of the pair in passing.

At the office, Cicely often lounged around Seth's desk, bored out of her mind. She'd playfully bicker with him, sometimes throwing a tantrum, but she rarely let herself be downtrodden. Meals were had, water was drunk, fun was found, and sleep came easy. Even when upset, she always managed to help Seth maintain his image in public. And those were just fleeting moments. Seth had a knack for smoothing things over, and soon enough they'd be back on good terms.

Lately, however, Cicely's attitude had turned frosty, repeatedly putting Seth in an awkward spot. She refused to eat or drink, rejecting any form of care from Seth, hurting herself and others in the process.

It seemed as though Seth had exhausted all his patience today. No matter what he said, Cicely appeared set on being contrary.

Seth sat on one side, his suit jacket casually draped over the bench. Cicely was sitting in such a way that she was purposefully avoiding any contact with Seth's jacket. The tension in the details was palpable.

With furrowed brows, Seth stared at her intently, "Are you going to oppose everything I say today?"

Cicely had only managed to stomach half of the soup she'd been given, fighting the urge to heave with each spoonful. Feeling utterly miserable, she didn't respond to Seth's words, not even with a

glance.

Seeing this, Brody intervened, "Miss, I've arranged a VIP room for you to rest in. I'll let you know the moment Issac is out."

Finally, Cicely spoke, "I want to stay here."

Brody sighed, then turned to Seth, "Mr. Diaz, the Ellis Group needs you to take charge. I'll look after Miss here. The Ellis family, they're counting on you."

Cicely's expression flickered ever so slightly at the mention of her family.

Seth, sitting beside her, could only see her profile. For all this time, that was all he'd been privy to. He was certain if he stayed, she wouldn't spare him another glance, continuing to waste away before him like a ghost.

After a silent moment, he stood up and nodded to Brody, "Take good care of her."

Brody nodded in understanding.

As Charlie followed Seth out, Brody let out another sigh. "Miss, please, for my sake, get some rest. Even ten minutes would do. Issac won't be pleased if you're like this. Do you plan to visit your father looking so worn?"

Cicely closed her eyes briefly, then stood up, her pallor and red-rimmed eyes a stark contrast. "Alright. I'll rest. I'll be back soon."

"Great, great, I'll have someone take you," Brody offered eagerly.

"No need, I'll go on my own."

Her tone was flat, signaling a clear refusal.

Iinstead of heading to rest, she quickened her pace to the restroom as soon as she left the emergency department. Leaning against the wall, she bent over the trash can. The soup she'd forced down earlier came up almost entirely.

After throwing up, her complexion was ghostly pale, her whole body shaking. When she reached for the paper towel, her hand trembled uncontrollably.

"Oh dear, are you alright, young lady?" A weathered hand belonging to an elderly person offered her a tissue.

She murmured a thank you, took the tissue, and wiped her mouth.

The old woman, her hair completely gray and wearing reading glasses, watched Cicely with an unwavering gaze.

Cicely looked back, only to see the old woman smile after observing her for a moment. "Pregnancy sickness is a real pain, isn't it?"

Cicely paused, "What?"