The sterile hallway of St. Helene's was far too quiet for what had just occurred.
Isabella walked with long strides, her steps echoing lightly off the polished floors. Her hands, now bare, tingled from the procedure. She wasn't nervous. She wasn't proud. She had simply done what needed to be done.
Saving lives was never about applause.
She didn't pause to hear the murmurs or accept the nurse's stammered gratitude. The doctors had already turned away in shame, pretending they hadn't doubted her moments ago. But she didn't care about their opinions.
She had only wanted to help.
And now she needed to see someone who mattered—her grandmother.
Mildred Thompson's room was quiet, tucked away in the older wing of the hospital. Isabella slipped inside without knocking.
"Grandma," she called gently.
The old woman stirred, a tired but pleased smile touching her lips. "You're here, little dove. You didn't have to come before settling in."
"I couldn't leave without seeing you." Isabella sat beside her, brushing back a strand of silver hair. "And besides… I just caused a small war in the ER."
Mildred blinked. "Oh?"
"Saved someone's grandmother. Cardiac failure. Idiot doctors misdiagnosed her." Isabella sighed. "But she'll live."
There was a pause, and then a knowing twinkle appeared in Mildred's eyes. "And the family?"
"Rich," Isabella said flatly. "Very rich. And very loud."
Mildred laughed softly, but her voice was weak. "The universe works in curious ways."
Isabella stood. "Get some rest. I'll come again once I've met these… biological parents."
"You'll be fine, Bella." Mildred closed her eyes. "You always are."
But fate wasn't done with her yet.
Just twenty minutes later, the emergency intercom crackled again.
"Cardiac emergency in VIP Wing Room 11! Patient in distress—code blue repeating!"
Isabella was halfway to the elevator when she froze.
Room 11?
She recognized the number. The woman she had just saved.
Her steps were faster now—measured, focused, determined. When she turned the corner, a familiar chaos unfolded.
And at the center of it… was Amelia.
Isabella's eyes narrowed.
Amelia was standing by the bedside with a cup in her hand, white as a sheet. The woman on the bed—Victor's grandmother—was convulsing.
"She gave her tea!" one nurse shouted. "Unapproved liquids—what the hell were you thinking?!"
Amelia's voice cracked. "I—I didn't know! I just thought she looked thirsty!"
Victor was already at the door, eyes like ice.
He hadn't seen Isabella yet, but the fury in his expression was unmistakable.
"You let strangers in?" he demanded. "Where's security? Why isn't there a doctor here yet?!"
"I'm here," Isabella said coldly, pushing through the crowd.
Victor turned.
Their eyes met—sharper this time, more aware. His gaze dropped to her hands as she donned her gloves again. Something in his face shifted.
"You," he said.
"I warned you," she replied. "Don't waste time. She doesn't have long."
And without another word, she reached for the woman's wrist and began her second intervention in less than an hour.
This time, Victor didn't stop her.
This time, he didn't question her authority.
And this time… he couldn't look away.
Next Chapter Teaser: A storm brews after the second rescue—and Isabella finds herself cornered by Victor with questions she's not ready to answer. But neither of them knows just how entangled their lives already are…