CHAPTER SEVEN.
The machines in the hospital room spoke in soft, mechanical rhythms.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Hiss.
Then.
Pause.
THE MADISONS POV.:.
Noel Madison lay between them,unconscious, suspended in a space where pain dulled into something quieter, something heavier.
His body was still.
Too still.
His chest rose and fell, but each breath looked earned, negotiated.
Mrs. Riley Madison had not moved in over an hour.
She sat beside the bed with her spine straight, one hand resting on Noel's, the other folded neatly in her lap.
If someone walked in without knowing the context, they might have mistaken her for calm.
But calm was not what lived behind her eyes.
It was calculation.
Memory.
The kind of stillness that comes when a woman realizes she has done everything right—and the world still dared to touch her child.
Queensley sat opposite her, curled inward, her long legs drawn close as if she could fold herself small enough to disappear.
Her phone lay face down on the chair beside her.
She hadn't turned it on again.
Tiffany paced.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Reverse and each time faster
Every few steps she stopped, dragged a hand through her hair, then continued again, rage vibrating under her skin like electricity with nowhere to ground.
"This was supposed to be just a race," Tiffany said finally, voice tight.
"You know that, right?" The wilsons are always trying to start a competition with us but at what cost.??
At what cost mummy.??
She said tearing up.
Mrs. Riley didn't look up.
"No," she said softly. "It stopped being about a race the moment someone decided winning mattered more than a life."
I honestly don't know why he agreed to this stupid race in the first place .
I was not even informed now I have an unconscious child and a wrecked car .!
The wilsons are not going Scott free.
The door opened.
Feircly too.!
A nurse stepped aside.
And Madison Moore walked in.
The Father Returns.
The room shifted.
It always did when Madison Moore entered a space.
He didn't announce himself.
Didn't rush.
Didn't look disoriented like most men pulled suddenly from power into fear.
He was still in a suit.
His tie was loosened, his jacket unbuttoned, but nothing about him looked broken.
Except his eyes.
They went straight to the bed.
Straight to Noel.
And something inside him locked into place.
"How long,"
Madison asked quietly, "how long has he been like this?"
The doctor cleared his throat.
"He regained consciousness briefly, But we lost him again.
Pain levels are high.
We're monitoring for internal complications."
Madison nodded once.
Then he turned to Mrs. Riley.
Not a word passed between them—but an entire marriage's worth of understanding did.
She stood.
"You need to sit," she said.
"I don't like you breaking something." You know that.
He exhaled through his nose and did as she said.
Queensley rose hesitantly.
"Um dad ...—"
He raised a hand gently. "I know," he said. "I've seen the footage."
The room went silent.
Madison leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together.
"The police are getting involved," he continued. "Full investigation. No private settlement. No favors. No quiet resolution."
Tiffany smiled grimly.
"Good." But it won't be enough they'll just pay them off.
Mrs. Riley nodded.
"This is not something we forgive." We can't go down softly . She said.
THE WILSON'S POV.:.
Jonathan Wilson heard the news in fragments.
A call from his assistant.
A message from legal.
A headline that didn't name his son—but didn't need to.
Madison Heir Hospitalized After losing an illegal street Race.
Jonathan Wilson closed his laptop slowly.
His office was pristine—glass walls, brushed steel, the quiet hum of power carefully curated.
He stood and walked to the window, staring down at the private runway below.
This wasn't good.
But it wasn't fatal either.
Not yet.
Alexander sat nearby, legs stretched out, arms folded behind his head, expression unreadable.
"They're blowing it out of proportion," Alex said.
"He walked out."
Jonathan turned.
"Did you touch his car?"
Alex didn't answer immediately.
"That's not what I asked."
A pause.
"He cut in."
Jonathan studied his son carefully. Not as a father—but as a strategist.
Then he nodded.
"Alright."
He picked up his phone.
"Get me Caroline. We're going to the hospital."
THE MADISON'S AND WILSON'S POV.
They arrived within minutes of each other.
Madison Moore was standing when Jonathan Wilson entered the corridor.
The hallway felt smaller instantly.
Doctors slowed.
Nurses avoided eye contact.
Even security stiffened.
Two men who had spent years smiling across boardroom tables now faced each other without pretense.
"Madison," Jonathan said evenly. "I'm sorry to hear about Noel."
Madison didn't respond right away.
He took a step closer.
What are you doing here.??
"Your son," he said, voice calm enough to be lethal, "made a decision to kill mine."
That's what this has turned into right.?? Involving the children.??
I thought you were better yunno but I guess the wilsons are just as bad as there ever have been.
Jonathan's jaw tightened.
"Oh moore moore." I just came so we'd talk .
The insults were not necessary.
The temperature dropped.
Tiffany shifted uncomfortably.
Mrs. Riley stepped forward.
"This isn't a negotiation," she said. "And this isn't about ego."
Jonathan glanced at her briefly, then back at Madison.
"Boys race," he said. "Tempers flare. Mistakes—
"Do not," Madison interrupted, "involve deliberate contact at seventy miles per hour."
Alexander appeared behind his father.
Their eyes met Noel's room door.
For the first time, something flickered across Alex's face.
Not guilt.
Fear of consequence.
History Bleeds Through
The rivalry wasn't new.
Madison Airpeace and Wilson Aerospace had competed for years—routes stolen at the last minute, bids undercut by margins too precise to be coincidence, regulatory complaints filed quietly and withdrawn just as quietly.
They smiled in public.
They bled each other in private.
And now.-
Their sons had collided.
Madison leaned in.
"This ends with accountability," he said. "Or it escalates."
Jonathan straightened.
"Be careful," he warned. "You don't want a business war over a schoolboy mistake."
Madison smiled.
Cold.
"Then you should've raised him better."
Mr Jonathan got slightly pissed .
I am not here for the insults.
We're leaving..."quick recovery to your boy there"
They left.
Few hours later
Noel slowly woke up .
The same dream again but this time he felt something
Pain didn't greet him like a scream.
It arrived like weight.
Heavy.
Settled.
Unavoidable.
His ribs burned.
His wrist throbbed.
His head felt too large for his body.
He opened his eyes.
White ceiling.
Machines.
Beeps.
His mother's face appeared instantly.
"Hey," she said softly. "Easy there."
He swallowed.
"Did I—"
She shook her head.
"No."
That answer meant everything.
Quiet Confessions
Later that night, when the room emptied, Queensley sat beside him again.
"Sorry" she started dropping tears
"I thought I lost you," she whispered.
Noel turned his head slightly.
"You didn't." And you did nothing wrong.
Tears slid down her cheeks anyway.
"I just wanted them to see," she said. "To stop pretending you weren't… you."
He stared at the ceiling.
"They saw speed," he said quietly. "Not damage."
She took his hand carefully.
"I saw both."
EVALON HIGH
Evalon High buzzed like a disturbed hive.
Stories twisted.
Footage slowed, zoomed, dissected.
Alex was called a champion.
But a weak one.
A cheat.
A criminal.
Noel was a legend.
A victim.
A myth.
Lisa Wilson watched from the sidelines.
She remembered Noel's words—bitchy behavior—and for the first time, wondered if she'd misunderstood who he really was.
Alexander avoided mirrors.
Jonathan Wilson buried himself in damage control.
Madison Moore prepared lawsuits.
Mrs. Riley said nothing—but planned everything.
The War Isn't Loud Yet.
The Madisons and Wilsons did not scream.
They didn't threaten publicly.
They didn't posture.
They moved pieces.
Quietly.
Efficiently.
Because the most dangerous wars don't begin with explosions.
They begin with silence.
And Noel Madison—
Still healing.
Still watched.
Still underestimated—
Had survived the crash.
Which meant the world would have to deal with him.