Kamille's POV

"Are you okay, Belle?" I asked, clearly worried. My kids heard me say "Belle" and started clamoring to speak to her.

"Mummy, Mummy, Aunty Belle!" Tyris exclaimed, scrambling with her seatbelt.

"Stay put, Tyris. You'll talk to Aunty Belle after school," I urged. Belle chuckled from the other end of the line.

"How are the kids?" she asked. Her voice was heavy with emotion, which worried me. I momentarily forgot my kids struggling with their seatbelts.

"They're fine, Belle, but are you?" I asked slowly.

"Please, Kam, don't worry about me. I'm in my PMS window, so I've been experiencing a rollercoaster of emotions, but I'll be fine," she replied. I could sense her sad smile.

I knew she usually had severe PMS symptoms, and Amanda always teased her about it. But this time, we were worried it might be more than that. I sighed.

"Alright, love. Let's meet up soon—you, Amy, and I. We need to catch up," I said calmly, oblivious to the chaos in the back seat.

"Sounds like a plan, Kam. Thank you," Belle replied softly.

"Talk to you later, then," I said, and we hung up.

I sighed and looked in the rearview mirror to see my kids playing and unbuckled.

"Reon, why are you unbuckled? Torin and Royer, sit down now! Tyris, get seated too!" I ordered, but they stubbornly continued playing.

"Mummy, just one more minute! I want to tickle Reon one more time, so he laughs," Tyris pleaded.

"Yes, Mummy! Just one more! Reon, laugh!" Royer chimed in, and they resumed their play and laughter. I smiled, but I was still worried.

I reached back to help them buckle up while they played, when suddenly I was propelled forward and my kids backward. I frowned and turned to the driver.

"What the hell?" My voice caught in my throat as I noticed a black minivan speeding toward us from behind.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. That car has been tailing us for a while now."

Heartbeat. Mind reel.

"Where the hell did it come from?" I asked the driver, who was already accelerating.

"Sorry, ma'am, but please fasten your seatbelts," the driver said.

I ignored him, turning to look at my frightened children.

"Mummy, are we going to die?" Reon asked, his eyes shaky with fear. He was holding Tyris's hand; she was already crying.

"Mummy, we'll sit properly next time. We don't want you to die," Royer said, starting to cry. His tears made Tyris cry harder.

Fuck! I cursed inwardly.

"No, babies. No one's going to die. We're just playing a car race," I said, forcing a smile.

"Really?" Royer asked.

"Yes, love. So stop crying now. And cheer us on so we win," I said, still smiling, but my heart pounded against my chest.

The kids cheered up, holding each other tightly and chanting, "Win, win, win!"

Their actions brought tears to my eyes. I sat back to stifle my sobs and dry my eyes. I had to be strong for them.

By now, we were driving down an alley. The minivan was closing in, and I was terrified, but my kids were excited about the car race.

"That's it, kids! We cannot lose this race!" I cheered them on, and they laughed and continued their chant.

If we lose, we may die.

Turning to the driver, I said, "My kids absolutely cannot die in this car." My voice was low but firm. He nodded. At that moment, as we exited the alley, a small black sports car appeared out of nowhere in front of us, causing the driver to slam on the brakes.

My head snapped forward, hitting the car's dashboard.

Or not.

The airbag deployed, saving me. I immediately turned to my kids. Their faces were white and ashen. Before I knew it, they passed out.

I turned to the driver; he nodded understandingly. We turned toward the hospital.

I noticed the black sports car chasing the minivan. "Who the hell is that?" I murmured.

I pushed aside my worry about the car and began praying for my children's safety. I couldn't bear anything happening to them.

Silent tears streamed down my cheeks as I frantically dialed Chris's number. He answered almost immediately. I could only sob; when I finally spoke, all I said was, "My kids."

I felt numb, thoughts swirling. Who was that? Why were they after our car? Did they think Zeke was inside? Were they after my kids? Who the fuck were they?

We arrived at the hospital. Seeing our car and the driver urgently requesting stretchers, the staff sprang into action.

I paced the waiting area, terrified, until they wheeled my children into a private ward. More beds had been set up. My kids appeared peaceful, their small bodies finally succumbing to the sedatives.

"My babies," I cried.

Silent tears streamed down my cheeks as I gazed at them. Who could have done this to them? Have I been discovered? Or was it just an accident?

Ignoring the questions swirling in my head, I approached their beds. As I reached out to touch them, a sob caught in my throat.

The doctor approached, concern etched on his face. He gently guided me away from my children. "Ms. Kamille, I understand your pain, but we need to let them rest," he said softly.

Two nurses helped me up and led me outside to calm down. I allowed myself to be led away, but my tears continued to flow. I watched helplessly through the window as my children slept.

By the reception area, my tears had stopped, but I was exhausted. I turned to the nurses. "Thank you very much. I'll be fine here."

"Okay, ma'am. Take care of yourself. Let us know if you need anything," the brown-haired nurse replied, her partner nodding in agreement.

As they left, I walked into the reception area, but I felt myself losing my balance. My heart lurched as I braced for impact.

But before I hit the ground, strong hands caught me.

"Zeke?" I called out. But as I steadied myself and noticed the absence of his scent, I knew it wasn't him.

Turning, I saw Chris. His expression was filled with concern, his eyes searching mine.

"Ms. Kamille, are you alright?" he asked gently but firmly.

I nodded, unable to articulate my emotions. "Thank you," I whispered. "For coming to my aid."

He gave me a reassuring smile, his hand still on my arm. "It's fine, Ms. Kamille. I'm glad you called me."

"Thank you," I smiled.

"Tell me what happened," Chris asked with concern. I sighed and recounted the events.

"It feels like a deliberate attack," he said, his voice laced with anger. "They must have known it wasn't Zeke in the car. No one trails Zeke like that unless they want to die," Chris said, maintaining his composure, but his eyes held a cold glint.

But who the hell would want to attack my kids? Is that not pure wickedness and evil? Why my kids? What harm could four innocent babies possibly pose?

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wished Zeke were here. I was grateful for Chris's help, but I wished it were Zeke. I wanted him to comfort me.

But Zeke was more temptation than I could handle right now. I couldn't rely on him every time; it would send the wrong message.

As if reading my thoughts, Chris looked at me with a hurt expression. He was hurt, but his eyes were almost red with anger.