She turned, her gaze meeting his, her eyes blazing with a newfound determination. "Yes, Mr. Cambridge?" she asked, her voice cool and composed, her anger a simmering volcano beneath the surface.
 He stood there, a tall, imposing figure, his eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. He was clearly surprised, even a little startled by her sudden defiance.
 "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, a hint of irritation creeping into his tone.
 Elise, her anger escalating with every word he uttered, simply met his gaze, her eyes unwavering. "I'm leaving," she said, her voice firm, her tone unwavering. "I'm done being your secretary. I'm done being your pawn. I'm done being a ghost in your world."
 She paused, giving him a moment to process her words, to understand the gravity of her decision.
 "I'm taking back my life," she said, her voice a whisper that carried the weight of a revolution. "I'm going to find my own path, my own purpose. And it doesn't involve serving your ego or fulfilling your ambitions."
 She turned, her back stiff, her steps deliberate, and walked away. The grand staircase stretched before her, a symbol of her escape, a path to a new beginning. She could hear his voice calling after her, but she didn't turn, she didn't look back. She was finally free, and she was determined to never return.
 Elise's heart pounded against her ribs as Caelan’s hand clamped onto her arm, a sudden, unexpected obstacle in her path to freedom. She froze, her body taut with defiance, her breath catching in her throat.
 “Wait a minute, let’s talk about this,” he insisted, his voice a low rumble that carried a hint of desperation.
 Elise, her anger reignited, tried to pull away, her arm jerking in resistance. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed, her voice a low growl. “I’m done with you, done with your games, done with your control.”
 She struggled to break free, her movements frantic, her fury fueling her resistance. Caelan, his grip tightening, tried to pull her back towards him. “Elise, please, let’s talk,” he pleaded, his voice losing its usual commanding tone, a hint of vulnerability creeping in.
 But she was determined to escape, to break free, to finally claim her autonomy. She was not a puppet to be manipulated, a pawn to be controlled. She was Elise, and she had a mind of her own.
 In the struggle, her foot caught on the edge of a step, her balance faltering, her body tipping forward. Time slowed down, the grand staircase blurring into a dizzying spectacle of light and shadow. She stretched out her hand, desperate to grab hold of something, anything, to stop her descent.
 And then, everything went black.
 She had no idea how long she lay there, sprawled on the plush carpet at the foot of the staircase, the weight of her body a dull ache. The roar of the crowd, the clinking of glasses, the muffled conversations, all faded into a distant, distorted hum.
 She felt a hand, warm and strong, gently pulling her back to consciousness. She opened her eyes, her vision blurry, her head throbbing. Caelan’s face, contorted with worry, swam into focus.
 “Elise,” he whispered, his voice laced with a frantic concern that she had never heard before. “Are you alright?”
 She blinked, her mind struggling to make sense of her surroundings, of the pain that pulsed through her body, of the strange sensation of weightlessness.
 She tried to speak, but her voice came out as a hoarse croak. “My head,” she murmured, the word a testament to the throbbing pain that pulsed in her temples.
 Caelan, his face pale, his brow furrowed with worry, reached out to gently touch her forehead. She flinched, her body reacting instinctively to his touch, her anger still simmering beneath the surface.
 She could feel his gaze on her, a mixture of concern and something else, something she couldn't quite place. But before she could decipher it, her vision blurred, the world around her dissolving into a swirling vortex of darkness.
 She was fading, succumbing to the pain, the confusion, the shock of her fall. And all she could think about was that she had finally managed to escape, to break free, to walk away from the life she no longer wanted.
 And then, she lost consciousness and her vision went pitch black...
 =================================
 Elise's eyes fluttered open, the harsh glare of the overhead light making her wince and close them again. The white ceiling, the sterile smell of antiseptic, the rhythmic beeping of a machine—all pointed to one undeniable truth: she was in a hospital.
 She tried to sit up, but a sharp pang of pain in her head forced her to lie back down, a groan escaping her lips. She reached up to touch her head, her fingers encountering a soft bandage. It was a dull ache, a persistent throbbing that made her head feel like a heavy weight.
 The sounds of the hospital—the distant hum of machines, the muffled voices of nurses and doctors, the occasional wail of an ambulance siren—filtered through her hazy consciousness. The world felt disorienting, blurry, a surreal echo of the events that had led her here.
 She remembered the gala, the champagne, the confrontation with Caelan, the grand staircase, the dizzying fall… and then, darkness.
 She tried to recall what had happened next, but her memory was fragmented, incomplete. The last thing she remembered was Caelan’s hand, his concerned eyes, his voice, his touch…
 She felt a surge of panic, a wave of fear washing over her. Where was he? Had he stayed? Had he called for help? Or had he simply walked away, leaving her to face the consequences of her defiance on her own?
 The door to her room creaked open, and a doctor, his face etched with concern, entered.
 “Oh, you’re awake,” he said, a warm smile spreading across his face. “That’s good. How are you feeling?”
 Elise tried to sit up, her body protesting with a groan. “My head… it hurts,” she murmured, her voice weak and raspy.
 “You’ve got a concussion,” the doctor explained, his voice soothing. “You took a nasty fall. But you’re lucky, you didn’t break anything. Just a few bumps and bruises.”
 Elise nodded, trying to make sense of the situation, her mind still reeling from the fall, the pain, the confusion.
 “Where is he?” she asked, her voice a barely audible whisper. “Where is Mr. Cambridge?”
 The doctor suddenly frowned, and he looked obviously confused while looking at her. 
 "Well... You're here Mr. Cambridge, and I am talking to you." he responded.