The Bigshot's Superstar Wife-Chapter 96: Savior

The morning sky over Asenus was painted with hues of soft lavender and pale gold.

Elara Jericho stepped out of the villa dressed in a simple white coat, a wide-brimmed hat shielding her face from the artificial sunlamps dotting the streets.

Her heart felt restless, the conversation from the previous night still echoing in her mind.

The throne war was inching closer, and her presence here might put Mors and his wife in danger as they stayed on Sinalta.

But today, she sought a distraction. The city of Velmira was known for its diverse cuisine, blending ingredients from dozens of planets into culinary masterpieces.

Elara had read about the famous Solaria Flame Noodles, served in an open-air plaza downtown. It seemed like a good place to lose herself in the anonymity of the crowd.

As she walked through the bustling streets, she marveled at the vibrancy of the city. Hovercrafts glided overhead, carrying passengers through invisible traffic lanes.

Street vendors called out their wares, glimmering crystal trinkets, spiced pastries that shimmered under the sunlamps, and holographic scarves that fluttered despite the absence of wind.

Children ran along the walkways, laughter echoing between sleek metallic buildings. Just as she reached the plaza, a deep, resonant boom shattered the peace.

The ground beneath her trembled, and the air turned hot and sharp with the metallic tang of burning materials.

A shockwave surged through the plaza, sending glass shards and debris flying. Screams replaced laughter as people scattered in panic.

Elara instinctively dropped to the ground, arms shielding her head as glass rained around her.

Smoke billowed from the far side of the plaza where a building had partially collapsed.

Flames roared from the shattered facade of a café, licking toward the sky like a hungry beast.

Adrenaline surged through her veins. She rose, coughing against the acrid smoke.

Her eyes scanned the chaos, injured civilians, some with gashes on their arms and legs, others disoriented as they staggered away from the blast site.

A faint cry pierced through the cacophony.

Elara turned toward the sound. Near the café’s entrance, partially buried under a fallen metal beam, lay a woman.

Her dress was torn and stained with blood. Her right arm was twisted unnaturally, and deep crimson spread beneath her body.

Her ash-colored hair was matted with soot, and her emerald eyes fluttered open and closed as she fought for consciousness.

Without hesitation, Elara rushed forward. The heat from the flames seared her skin as she knelt beside the woman.

"Hold on," she whispered.

Elara braced herself, gripping the beam. Summoning every ounce of strength, she heaved it to the side.

The metal screeched in protest before rolling away. Carefully, she cradled the woman and lifted her from the ground.

The woman whimpered in pain, her broken arm dangling uselessly.

"It’s okay," Elara reassured her. "I’ve got you."

The nearest hospital was three blocks away. Elara pushed through the crowd, adrenaline giving her strength.

Sirens wailed in the distance as emergency responders approached, but she didn’t wait for them.

She hailed an auto-taxi, practically kicking open the door and guiding the injured woman inside.

"Velmira General," she barked.

The vehicle’s AI responded immediately, accelerating toward the hospital. Elara pressed a hand against the woman’s side, feeling the sticky warmth of blood seeping through her coat.

"Stay awake," Elara urged. "Can you tell me your name?"

The woman’s lips trembled. "…"

"You’ll be okay. Just hold on."

The taxi arrived in record time. Medics swarmed the vehicle when they saw Elara’s blood-covered coat.

The injured woman was placed on a stretcher and rushed toward surgery. Elara trailed behind, her pulse finally slowing as the nurses disappeared into the operating room.

She sank into a chair in the corridor. Her hands were smeared with blood, her coat ruined. Her heart hammered in her chest as the shock of the explosion caught up with her.

Who would bomb a public plaza? Was it an accident? Or was this related to the growing unrest linked to the throne war?

Hours passed. Elara sat motionless, eyes fixed on the door of the operating room. The rhythmic beep of distant monitors was the only sound grounding her in reality.

The quiet was broken by the sharp echo of footsteps. Elara glanced up and froze.

Lawrence Demerin stood at the end of the hall. His usual military uniform was gone, instead, he wore dark civilian clothes.

His hair was slightly disheveled, his expression unreadable. The moment his eyes met Elara’s, his stride faltered.

His gaze shifted from her to the door beside her. His jaw clenched.

"Where is she?" he asked, voice low and tense.

"She’s in surgery," Elara said, forcing herself to stand.

Lawrence stepped closer, towering over her. His eyes dropped to the blood on her hands and coat. His lips parted as if to say something, but instead, he clenched his fists.

"You were there?" he demanded.

"Yes. I was nearby when the bomb exploded," Elara answered.

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second. "Thank you," he said. "For helping her."

Elara tilted her head, confused. "You know her?"

"She’s my mother," Lawrence said, voice tight.

Elara’s breath caught. "Your mother?"

Lawrence’s eyes flicked toward the operating room. "I was told she was in danger...but I didn’t expect this."

The puzzle pieces fell into place. The second madam of the Demerins wasn’t just any civilian.

She was one of the powerful matriarchs of the Demerin family, the hidden force behind many of the clan’s decisions. If someone had targeted her, this wasn’t random terrorism.

"This was an assassination attempt," Elara said aloud.

Lawrence didn’t deny it. "Probably," he said. "The Demerin family has made enemies. But I never expected them to go after my mother."

The door to the operating room opened with a hiss. A surgeon emerged, removing their gloves. "Major General Demerin?"

Lawrence stepped forward. "Yes. How is she?"

"Stable for now," the surgeon said. "Her arm was shattered in three places, and there was significant blood loss. But she’ll survive."

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Relief sagged Lawrence’s shoulders.

Elara exhaled deeply, her heart unclenching.

"Thank you, Doctor," Lawrence said.

The surgeon left, and Lawrence turned back to Elara.

"You saved my mother’s life," he said softly. "I owe you."

"You don’t owe me anything," Elara replied.

Lawrence’s expression hardened again. "Yes, I do. And I’m going to find out who did this."

As he walked into the recovery room, Elara remained behind, heart racing. The battle for the throne was here, whether she wanted it or not.