Taming My Sugar Mommy
Chapter 81: Hope

Chapter 81: Hope

The car sped down the dimly lit road, its tires screeching against the asphalt as Marcus weaved through traffic with expert precision. In the backseat, Isabella cradled Liam against her, her hands pressing firmly against his wound to slow the bleeding.

"Stay with me, Liam," she urged, her voice steady despite the panic gripping her chest. "Just a little longer, we’re almost there."

Liam’s head lolled against the seat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The blood soaking through his bandages made Isabella’s stomach twist, but she refused to let fear take over.

Up front, Christina kept glancing back, worry etching lines into her otherwise sharp features. "He’s losing too much blood," she said urgently. "We need to get there faster."

"I’m going as fast as I can," Marcus growled, gripping the steering wheel tighter. His knuckles were white, his jaw clenched in frustration. "The damn police are already on their way to the scene. We can’t draw attention."

Blue and red lights flashed in the distance, illuminating the night sky as sirens blared. Emergency responders were heading toward the smoldering remains of Richard’s empire. Isabella’s heart pounded—every second wasted was another drop of Liam’s blood lost.

"You’re not dying on me, Liam," she whispered fiercely, her hand brushing his sweat-dampened hair away from his forehead. "That’s an order."

A weak chuckle escaped Liam’s lips. "Can’t disobey... the lady’s orders," he murmured, his eyelids fluttering shut.

Isabella gritted her teeth. "Damn right, you can’t."

As they approached the hospital, Marcus swerved into the emergency entrance, tires screeching against the pavement.

"Get him inside!" Isabella commanded, already stepping out before the car had fully stopped.

Christina rushed to open the back door while Marcus moved to help lift Liam. Despite his injuries, Liam groaned in protest. "I can walk—"

"Quite,mate" Marcus snapped, hauling him out of the car with Christina’s help. "You’re half-dead."

Doctors and nurses rushed forward with a stretcher, their faces unreadable as they assessed Liam’s condition.

"What happened?" a nurse asked.

"Gunshot wound, major blood loss," Christina answered quickly. "He’s been through hell—just save him."

The medical team didn’t waste a second, whisking Liam away down the sterile, white hallway. Isabella followed, but before she could take another step, a firm hand caught her wrist.

"Lady Isabella," Marcus said carefully, concern laced in his voice. "We should wait."

Isabella hesitated. Every instinct screamed at her to go after Liam, to ensure he was safe, but she knew Marcus was right. She needed to trust the doctors.

Exhaling sharply, she nodded. "Fine. But we don’t leave until we get an update."

For the next thirty minutes, they paced the waiting room, tension thick in the air. Isabella sat with her arms crossed, her foot tapping against the floor. Christina leaned against the wall, arms folded, her eyes darting toward the hallway every time a nurse passed. Marcus, for once, was silent, his gaze fixed on the double doors Liam had disappeared through.

Finally, a doctor stepped out.

"He’s stable," the doctor announced, removing his mask. "He lost a lot of blood, but we managed to stop the bleeding. He’ll need rest, but he’s going to be fine."

Relief flooded Isabella’s chest. She nodded, regaining her composure. "Thank you, doctor."

"You can see him shortly, but not for long. He needs rest," the doctor added before walking away.

Isabella turned to Christina and Marcus. "Both of you, go back home and start searching for anything about Sophia. We can’t waste time."

Marcus hesitated. "Are you sure? We can—"

"That wasn’t a suggestion, Marcus," Isabella cut him off firmly. "I need you both working on this now."

Marcus gave a respectful nod. "Understood, Lady Isabella."

Christina exchanged a glance with Marcus before nodding as well. "We’ll get on it."

Once they left, Isabella made her way toward Liam’s room. The steady beeping of his heart monitor was the first thing she noticed when she stepped inside. He looked paler than before, exhaustion lining his features.

Liam opened his eyes slightly as she approached. "Didn’t think you’d come," he murmured.

"Don’t be ridiculous," Isabella replied, taking a seat beside his bed. "You risked your life today. The least I can do is make sure you don’t bleed out alone."

Liam offered a weak smile. "Would’ve done it again."

She shook her head, sighing. "You’re an idiot."

"Maybe," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "But I’d rather be an idiot than let you go through that alone."

Silence stretched between them. Isabella wasn’t one to show emotions easily, but something about Liam’s unwavering loyalty made her chest tighten.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Liam’s eyelids grew heavy again. "Don’t mention it, my lady."

For once, Isabella didn’t correct him.

Three days later, Liam was discharged. The ride to Isabella’s estate was quiet, his body still moving with careful precision, recovering from the trauma.

As they neared the estate, the towering iron gates opened smoothly, welcoming them back into familiar territory. The mansion loomed ahead, its lights glowing warmly against the night. Isabella pulled into the driveway, parking with practiced ease before turning to Liam.

"Are you sure you’re alright?" she asked, her voice softer than it had been earlier.

Liam managed a small smile. "I’ve had worse."

She studied him for a moment before nodding. "Then let’s get inside."

Liam moved carefully as he stepped out of the car, the ache in his ribs protesting the motion. Isabella didn’t offer assistance—she knew he wouldn’t accept it—but she did walk slightly slower, matching his pace.

As soon as they stepped inside, the rich aroma of something warm and comforting filled the air. A familiar voice called from the kitchen.

"Liam? Is that you?"

Chef Maria appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. The moment she saw them, her face lit up, but then her gaze dropped to Liam’s bandaged arm, and her smile faded.

"Madre de Dios, what happened to you?" she exclaimed, hurrying over.

Liam barely had time to react before Maria reached up and gently cupped his face, turning his head from side to side as if checking for more injuries. It was a motherly gesture—one that made him feel oddly comforted despite himself.

"Got into a little trouble," Liam said with a sheepish smile.

Maria huffed. "A little trouble? Look at you!" She turned to Isabella. "My Lady, you should have made him rest at the hospital!"

Isabella, to Liam’s surprise, merely gave a small shrug. "He insisted on coming home."

Maria tsked, shaking her head. "Men. Always so stubborn." She turned back to Liam. "You should eat something. I made caldo de pollo—good for the body."

Liam’s stomach rumbled at the mention of the warm chicken soup, and Maria’s sharp eyes caught it immediately.

"I’ll bring you a bowl," she said firmly, not giving him room to refuse. "Go sit."

Liam chuckled softly as she disappeared back into the kitchen. He turned to Isabella, who simply arched an eyebrow.

"You should listen to her," she said, the faintest trace of amusement in her voice.

Before Liam could respond, footsteps approached from deeper inside the house. Marcus and Christina entered the hallway, their expressions tense. The moment Marcus saw them, he hesitated, then said, "You guys need to see this."

Isabella arched a brow but remained composed. "Liam needs to eat first," she said smoothly. "We’ll join you shortly."

Marcus hesitated for a brief moment, as if tempted to insist, but instead, he nodded and turned toward the study. Christina cast them a quick glance before following him.

Liam sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "This is going to be a long night, isn’t it?"

Isabella smirked slightly. "Most likely."

Liam took a seat, lifting the spoon. As the warmth of the broth spread through him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was about to change.

After finishing the soup under Maria’s watchful eye, Liam followed Isabella toward the study, his body still protesting every step. Inside, Marcus stood near the desk, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Christina sat nearby, a laptop open in front of her, papers spread across the table.

Isabella entered first, her presence commanding yet composed. Liam followed, slower but steady.

"Alright," Isabella said, her voice calm but firm. "Any updates?"

Marcus exhaled sharply but didn’t speak. Instead, he gestured toward Christina. She adjusted her laptop and turned the screen toward them.

"We’ve been doing some research," Christina explained. "Cross-referencing records, looking for any connections we might have missed. It’s been difficult—whoever runs this operation knows how to cover their tracks."

Liam remained silent, but something about the serious tone in her voice made his stomach tighten.

"Then we found this," Christina continued. She clicked a few keys, and a grainy image appeared on the screen—a young girl, no older than fifteen, with dark curls framing her delicate face.

Marcus inhaled sharply. His entire body tensed, his eyes locked onto the screen.

"Sophia," Marcus whispered.

Liam’s breath caught. His heart pounded as recognition hit him.

"I’ve seen her before," Liam said, his voice steady but filled with certainty.

Every head in the room snapped toward him.

Marcus stepped forward, his movements sharp. "Where?"

Liam exhaled. "That night. The auction."

Isabella stiffened beside him. Her eyes flickered with recognition, and slowly, she looked back at the screen. "Of course..." she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Liam nodded. "We were there for other things, but when they brought her out... I couldn’t ignore it. I asked Isabella to buy her."

Marcus’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. "Then where is she now?"

Liam hesitated, exchanging a glance with Isabella. Then, he answered. "We took her to an orphanage. It was the safest place we could think of at the time."

Silence filled the room.

Marcus’s breath came faster, his emotions barely contained. His fingers gripped the edge of the desk as if grounding himself. "Which orphanage?" His voice was strained, but beneath it was something different.

Hope.

Isabella met his gaze, her tone steady but with a rare softness. "She’s safe. I know exactly where she is."

Marcus inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Then we go now—"

"Tomorrow," Isabella cut in firmly. "It’s too late to make a scene tonight. First thing in the morning, we’ll bring her home."

Marcus opened his mouth as if to argue, but then he exhaled slowly, nodding. His shoulders, tense with years of grief, seemed to relax just slightly.

For the first time in years, hope shone in his eyes.