Jillian stepped out into the corridor, the corridor was quiet. The calm was eerie, but she pushed the unsettling feeling to the back of her mind as she walked toward the waiting bay, keeping a close eye on her phone for any updates.
There was a strange sense of anticipation in the air, as if something was about to shift.
The president's right-hand man followed Jillian as she stepped out of the heavily secured suite. The hallway outside was quiet, bathed in soft overhead lighting, but tension still clung to the air. Jillian had just finished stabilizing a man whose name clearly held weight—though she hadn't been told much.
"Dr. Jillian," the suited man called, catching up to her with brisk footsteps. His tone was respectful, but edged with urgency. "I will settle the accounts now. The president values efficiency, and your time—"
Jillian halted, turning to face him. She looked tired, the kind of exhaustion only doctors understood, but her voice was steady and resolute.
"You'll settle the accounts when he wakes up," she said firmly, cutting him off without raising her voice. "Not before."
The man blinked, thrown off by her calm refusal.
"I—of course. I only meant—"
She took a quiet breath. "I didn't come here for money. I came because someone was dying. If your president makes it through this, then we'll talk. Until then, let him fight for his life without debts being written into it."
There was a heavy pause between them. He looked at her—really looked—and something in his demeanor shifted. Less formality, more sincerity.
"…Understood," he finally said. "Thank you, Dr. Jillian."
She gave a brief nod, then walked down the corridor, her shoes clicking softly with each step. The weight of what had just happened didn't settle until she pushed through the glass doors at the end of the hallway and stepped into the cool night air. The city lights of Shanghai stretched endlessly before her, and for a moment, she just stood there, breathing, letting the adrenaline fade.
There were still no answers—only questions. But for now, she had done what she came to do.
And maybe, that was enough.
Jillian had been sitting alone in the private lounge they'd prepared for her, sipping lukewarm tea and watching the clock tick far too slowly. The weight of silence was beginning to gnaw at her, and boredom crept in like an unwelcome guest.
She picked up her phone, swiping through messages absentmindedly until she stumbled across the hospital's group chat. A string of photos, laughing emojis, and congratulations filled the screen.
[Dr. Lang:] "Tonight's dinner party is a blast!"
[Nurse Ivy:] "I can't believe Jillian didn't show up. She always makes us dress on point!"
[Dr. Min:] "Next time we're kidnapping her."
Jillian blinked. Dinner party? She scrolled further and realized the invite had been sent days ago. In the chaos of emergency surgeries and her unexpected trip to MyCorp, she had completely missed it.
A soft sigh escaped her lips. Maybe she could have used the distraction.
Before she could type out a response, the door to the lounge burst open.
"Dr. Jillian!" The president's assistant rushed in, slightly breathless, his tie askew and a sheen of sweat on his forehead.
She stood up instantly. "What happened?"
"He's awake," the assistant said, voice trembling with both relief and disbelief. "The president… he woke up. And he asked for you."
Jillian's eyes widened, but she didn't hesitate. She was already moving, the phone forgotten on the armrest. The hallway seemed longer than before, each step echoing her quickening heartbeat.
She didn't know what the president remembered—or what he might say—but as a doctor, she had a responsibility. And as a woman who had fought to keep him alive, she was ready for whatever came next.
The doors to the luxurious suite parted as Charles, the assistant led the way. Jillian stepped inside, her heels echoing softly against the marble floor. The air was crisp, clean, and heavy with something unspoken.
On the massive bed, half-sitting against a propped pillow, was Ethan.
His gaze found her instantly.
Ethan (voice low, slightly raspy):
"I didn't expect you to be the one standing over me again… after what happened."
Jillian froze for just a moment before walking to the bedside, her eyes unreadable.
Jillian (softly):
"Neither did I."
The silence stretched between them—tense but intimate.
Ethan (after a beat):
"They told me they'd called the best heart doctor in Shanghai. I didn't realize it would be you."
Jillian (folding her arms lightly, maintaining her professionalism):
"I was called in as an emergency. I didn't know who the patient was until I saw your face."
Ethan (a dry chuckle escaping):
"Well, fate has a twisted sense of humor."
She said nothing, her gaze moving to the monitors. He looked better than the last time she saw him, though the shadows beneath his eyes were deeper, older somehow.
Ethan (more quietly):
"You still look like someone who carries the whole world in her hands."
Jillian (gently):
"And you still find the words to say things you don't mean."
He winced, not from pain, but from truth.
A knock at the door broke the moment. Charles reappeared, hesitant.
Charles:
"Apologies. Dr. Jillian, should I arrange your transport?"
Jillian (glancing at Ethan one last time):
"Not yet. I'll stay a little longer."
Ethan watched her pull the chair close. No more words were exchanged for now—but everything had already been said.
Charles lingered at the doorway, hesitating longer than necessary.
He glanced at Ethan, then at Jillian, then back again.
It was strange—usually, the CEO would have already dismissed any visitor, doctor or not. But now... he looked almost reluctant to see her go.
Charles (tentatively):
"Sir, should I—?"
Ethan (without breaking eye contact with Jillian):
"You can leave us, Charles. I'll call if I need anything."
The assistant paused, clearly confused, but bowed slightly and stepped out, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
Silence hung between them for a beat.
Jillian's expression was cool but curious. She leaned back slightly in her chair, folding her arms.
Jillian (gently, but with edge):
"What are you doing here, Ethan?"
Ethan (exhaling, shifting slightly on the bed):
"I could ask you the same thing. But I guess we've already crossed that bridge."
She said nothing, waiting.
He ran a hand through his tousled hair, the weight of something unspoken flickering in his eyes.
Ethan (finally):
"As you can see, I'm in the CEO's office."
Jillian's brows lifted slightly. The dots were connecting.
Jillian:
"You were the one behind the research funding requests… the foundation outreach."
Ethan (nods):
"I've been watching from a distance. Not just you… but the entire field. It wasn't about power this time. It was about… fixing what I broke. In my health. In my name."
Her gaze softened, but only a little.
Jillian (carefully):
"That sounds cool. And what now?"
Ethan:
"I don't know. That depends on whether some bridges are too burned to rebuild."
She looked at him, her walls still high, but something—perhaps curiosity, perhaps memory—was shifting in her eyes.
Jillian (quietly):
"Don't mistake saving your life again for forgiveness."
Ethan (a small smile):
"Wouldn't dare."