Achilles: The Warlord Emperor

4: Elegant Savior

Achilles Hector lay helplessly, his breath weak, the entire neighborhood turned a blind eye.

Windows shut, doors locked; no one wanted to be associated with a disgraced soldier, and helping him wasn't an option.

From the window, Gabrielle screamed. They dragged her upstairs and acted like they didn't cause Achilles’ accident.

Her heart bleeding in sorrow, she cried out, “My Daddy! I want to be with him! Please!”

They completely ignored her to shut the curtains and windows. Achilles was left to fate as long as the Haydens and neighbors were concerned: He was better off dead.

Unexpectedly, a sleek Obsidian Black Mercedes Maybach pulled up beside him.

The rear door opened, and a gorgeously breathtaking young woman rushed out with her hazel ravishing eyes fixed on Achilles.

It was none other than Margaret Julian: The empress of beauty herself. Her personality commanded power, respect, and admiration. The diamond earrings adorning her silky skin caused a huge fortune.

It has been the dream of most wealthy juggernauts in Britain to make her theirs, but the tall, curvy damsel hasn't been an easy target like other random wealthy women.

Her driver, looking all confused, stepped beside her. “Ma’am, I guess he's the one you've been looking for?”

“Of course, he's the one,” she responded with firm clarity. “Waste no time, get him into the car.”

The driver moved with thoughts in his head. “Ma’am, he’s not in good shape. What if–”

Ms. Julian shot him an instant glare, he zipped his lips from finishing off. “I didn’t ask for your thoughts. I gave an absolute instruction.”

Without hesitation, the driver and a guard behind lifted Achilles and carried him into the backseat.

As they drove off, no one from the neighborhood bothered to check up on him. The Hayden family didn't bother to peek through the window to know how he was fairing.

To them, Achilles Hector didn't have any business still being alive, and hence, they didn't see Ms. Julian taking him off.

The driver zoomed straight to one of the top-rated hospitals within the neighborhood.

The status of the private hospital is highly rated, mainly open to politicians, socialites, elites, and billionaires.

With promptness, the medical personnel wheeled him into emergency care. An hour had passed, and Margaret sat in the waiting room, her mind whirling with conflicting thoughts.

“I wish I had arrived earlier. He'd have been in better shape. It's all my fault.”

She kept musing in fear of the unknown.

Despite being a composed, confident young woman— Achilles’ condition caused a strong emotional grip on her as she prayed inwardly for his recovery.

While in a hopeful state, the doctor walked toward her with words on his lips.

“Thank heaven you brought him in at that time. He'll survive.”

He informed further, “However he needs immediate surgery to prevent internal bleeding in the head. If we act now, there should be no permanent damage.”

She gasped, letting out a sharp breath. “Please do whatever is necessary in keeping him alive in sound health. He can't die.”

“Money isn't a problem. I'll foot all the bills at once.”

The doctor nodded thoughtfully and returned to the wardroom.

After a few hours, he came back wearing a tired beam. “The surgery was successful. He's stable but weak and will regain full consciousness within the next day or so.”

“He’s indeed a fighter. However, he kept muttering the words: My pumpkin.”

The doctor tilted his head and inquired, “Do you by any chance know who that is?”

Margaret raised an eyebrow in thought. After a few moments, she returned her gaze to the doctor with a blank expression.

***

Thirty-two hours later, a faint beep echoed in the wardroom, and slowly, he opened his eyes with sinking pains.

The first person his eyes met was a curvy woman, mesmerizing and elegant.

She was seated beside his bed with her eyes closed, musing prayers for everything to go well.

She noticed a slight movement, her stunning eyes entangled with Achilles’.

His eyelids blinked in confusion. “Huh? Who...?”

Margaret politely cut him short— a beautiful smile playing on her lips. “Thank God. You're awake.”

He tried to sit properly, but a sharp pain across his ribs forced him back down. “Where… am I?”

“You’re in a private hospital. You were left unattended on the pavement after the accident.”

Achilles’ face stiffened as flashes of the incident replayed in his head. He vividly remembered how the Hayden family pushed him hard after revealing their real ugly colors.

“Why save me? No one cared,” he asked, his eyes darting for answers.

Margaret leaned closer and chimed an enchanting beam, “I came looking for you and I know the truth.”

Achilles' brow furrowed while readjusting his lying position.

The lady's face didn't strike a chord, from his earliest observation after regaining consciousness. He could tell she exuded a powerful aura and elegance.

Curiosity moved his tongue, “Came looking for me? What's the truth exactly?”

“Yes Col. Achilles Hector, the Vehement Warlord,” she smiled more beautifully with words.

A tinge of beam and shock tingling Achilles’ demeanor. Since his dishonorable discharge, no one had called his name completely with all esteem, authority, and respect intact.

It was crystal clear that the gorgeously strange woman didn't come to spite him like others.

“Your father didn't murder his best friend, the Minister of Defense: He was framed.”

Achilles held the pain in his biceps, sitting up properly, he flashed Margaret an inquiry stare for more information.

“How did you know all this? Who are you?”

She let out a deep breath, calmly holding his right fingers, her eyes stood still in his.

“I am Margaret Julian. The daughter of the late Minister of Defense.”

DONG!

Achilles’ mind whirled at a fast pace on why the daughter of the assassinated Minister of Defense would ever help him after his late father was accused of the crime.

He never knew the late Minister of Defense had a daughter, only a son: Col. Michael Julian who despised him.

Margaret, maintaining a genuine outlook, engaged him further.

“Yes, I know you're surprised how I knew about your father's innocence. I'll tell you all you need to know. The hard truth is the country needs you more than ever.”

“We have some people here, who are in dire need to have a word with you. You want the truth? Is right at your doorstep.”

Ms. Julian’s words reeked of riddles.