Standing before the largest private hospital in the city owned by Mr. Blackthorn, Patricia stared deeply at the entrance, hesitating. How was she supposed to face such an intimidating man with her shaky self-esteem? She couldn't even speak up for herself, how was she supposed to ask for a divorce from a man even the bravest feared?
"Fighting!!!"
A voice shouted from inside a parked car across the street, snapping her out of her thoughts. Patricia instantly recoiled in embarrassment, her heart pounding as heads turned in her direction. It could only be Zara, of course. The confident one, the fearless one. Sometimes Patricia swore Zara would be the death of her.
Flustered, she covered her face and waved dismissively at her, signaling for her to leave. But Zara only burst into laughter and kept cheering, giving Patricia no choice but to walk through the hospital doors before the embarrassment could deepen.
Once inside, Patricia took a moment to look around, stunned by the grandeur around her. She still couldn't believe she was finally going to be working in her dream hospital. Since childhood, she had longed to work here. She had applied, gone through the interviews, and then waited for weeks but never received a callback. The hospital only allowed one application per person, so after that, she had given up hope. Only for her to receive a message, just two days ago, that she had been accepted. Though she found it weird, she knew she was competent enough to be chosen so she didn't sweat it further.
She thought life was finally starting to ease up. Hopeful, she had decided to register her marriage. But as always, life found a way to knock her down again.
"Move away!"
A nurse shouted from behind as they wheeled in a patient drenched in blood. Startled, Patricia gasped and quickly moved aside.
Her instincts kicked in. The moment she saw the injured patient, she forgot why she had even come. Then, more beds were wheeled in…three, then another three. The sight made her wonder what kind of accident had just occurred.
"Mr. Blackthorn!"
The name rang out from within the chaos, and just like that, a path cleared. Patricia's gaze followed everyone else's, drawn to the commanding presence approaching. The moment she laid eyes on him, her heart skipped a beat.
She didn't need anyone to tell her who he was, his presence alone confirmed it. The rumors did him too much justice.
The first thing she noticed was the tattoo snaking up his neck. Her eyes trailed downward, taking in his tall, muscular frame. His physique was firm and defined, his abs outlined even beneath the fitted white shirt. His sleek, dark hair was combed smoothly to the left, with a streak of red standing out boldly. The glasses perched on his nose added a professional touch making him look like a real doctor, though every detail about him screamed power more than profession.
One hand rested casually in his pocket while a Rolex watch hugged his wrist like it belonged there. He wore black pants and carried himself with a quiet confidence that made everything he wore look expensive, because on him, it was.
Patricia swallowed, realizing too late that she had been staring.
When Patricia was done scanning his body, she raised her head and for a brief second, she could swear his gaze met hers. But when she looked again, his eyes had already shifted away.
Scolding herself for being delusional again, she took a deep breath and reminded herself not to mess things up. This was her only chance to ask for a divorce and end everything, once and for all.
"I can do it," she whispered to herself, clenching her fists before stepping up to the reception.
"Hi, I am Patricia Carter. I am a new…"
Before she could finish her sentence, a panicked voice interrupted.
"We need Dr. Daves right now! Do you have any other numbers of his?!" A nurse cried out, sweat trickling down her face.
"No, he only gave us his official number. I am sorry," the receptionist replied, trying to stay calm.
"We need someone to check on the VVIP patient in room 305, get us any available cardiologist! Anyone is fine!" The nurse shouted, her voice rising with urgency.
"Dr. Peter is on leave, and Dr. Miss is at a conference. I can't reach her. There's nothing we can do right now," the receptionist answered flatly.
"Will you take responsibility if anything happens to the patient?!" The nurse snapped.
Moved by the nurse's desperation, Patricia stepped forward. "I am a cardiologist, I can help," she said, prompting the nurse to turn toward her with a skeptical stare. Patricia could understand why. No one would believe someone so frail and, in her eyes, so plain-looking, could be a doctor.
"Do you work here?" The nurse asked sharply.
"Yes, I am…"
Before she could finish, the nurse grabbed her wrist and dragged her off, ignoring the receptionist's gasp and shout of, "Wait!" But by then, they were already gone. The receptionist frowned, confused as she had never seen Patricia before. How could she possibly be working here?
Still unsettled, she sat back down and typed into her computer to check who was assigned to room 305. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw the name. Without wasting a second, she picked up the phone and dialed.
Meanwhile, far from the front desk, the nurse continued dragging Patricia down the hallway, briefing her about the patient as they hurried along.
They finally reached the room, but two bodyguards standing outside immediately blocked their path.
"She's a new doctor. I will take full responsibility," the nurse said quickly. The guards exchanged glances before stepping aside. Patricia was pulled into the room where several nurses were already inside, visibly shaken as the patient on the bed struggled to breathe.
Patricia's eyes landed on the patient, and her expression changed. She broke free from the nurse's grip and rushed forward.
"What happened before the cardiac arrest?" She asked the trembling nurses.
"She… she wanted to eat meat, and we couldn't say no. So we got it for her," one of them stammered, her face pale with fear.
"And you gave it to her?!" The nurse who had brought Patricia in shouted, her voice sharp and furious, veins rising in her neck. The others flinched.
Patricia ignored the commotion. Tapping the patient's shoulder, she spoke quickly, "Hi, can you hear me?" But there was no response and her expression darkened.
"I will perform CPR. Get the defibrillator ready!" She ordered, dropping her bag and climbing onto the bed. Straddling the patient, she placed her hands firmly on the chest.
"One, two, three," she began counting as she performed compressions. Then, lowering her mouth to the patient's, she gave a breath before continuing the compressions.
Suddenly…
"What the hell are you doing?!"
A deep voice thundered from the doorway.
Everyone froze. The nurses felt the blood drain from their faces. Patricia paused, looking up toward the voice, and when her eyes met his, her heart skipped a beat as she gasped for breath.