Amara's POV
The moment I stepped into the hospital, something felt… off.
Not the lighting. Not the walls. Just… the energy. The air itself had shifted. Conversations were hushed. Eyes moved too quickly. A few nurses turned away as I walked past, like I wasn't supposed to be there at all.
I frowned, tightening my grip on my bag.
No one said anything. Not yet.
I headed straight toward the hallway. I always checked on him first. Mr. Black. My favorite patient, even if I'd never admit it out loud. He was stubborn, sharp-tongued, but the only one who ever looked me in the eye and said thank you.
But his room was already cleaned out.
Sheets gone. Machines off. Curtain half-drawn like no one had been there for weeks. A new nameplate was already being fitted on the door.
I stopped in the doorway. My chest locked.
No one had to say it.
I already knew.
He was gone.
I turned to the nearest nurse Sasha. She paused like she'd been caught.
"Amara," she said softly. "He… passed. Early this morning."
Just like that.
No warning. No call. No goodbye.
I couldn't speak.
I didn't cry, either. Not right then.
I just stood there in the hallway, hands numb, blinking hard at the wall until it blurred.
I had said goodnight, not goodbye.
I promised I'd be back.
But he didn't wait.
And somehow, knowing that he died while I was sleeping, while the world was just moving on like it always does hurt more than I was ready for.
He was the only person in that building who didn't treat me like I was replaceable.
And now he was gone.
"Miss Dean?"
The voice pulled me out of it like ice water.
I turned slowly. Mr. Lane from administration stood at the end of the corridor, flanked by two unfamiliar faces in stiff blazers. His expression was unreadable, but his tone? Cold.
"Please come with us to the office."
Not can you, not when you're free.
Just come.
And something in my gut twisted, hard.
I nodded slowly and followed.
My legs barely held me steady as I walked.
The hallway seemed longer than I remembered. My chest still ached from the news. Elijah Black was gone. He was gone. And now they were calling me into the office?
Mr. Lane didn't say much as he led the way. Just opened the door and gestured me in. I stepped inside.
Two other faces were already waiting. Cold. Professional.
I swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the strap of my bag.
Mr. Lane sat down, his tone clipped. "Miss Dean. A few things have come up that require immediate attention."
I tried to find my voice. "Is this about...?"
He cut me off. "We've received word regarding an incident. A violation of hospital protocol allegations of you performing or assisting in an unsanctioned medical abortion."
"What?" The word barely left my mouth. "That's not....I didn't...."
He didn't flinch. "It's strictly against the rules. And you know the rules."
"I didn't do anything," I breathed, heart pounding now. "You know I didn't. You've seen my record."
The woman beside him leaned forward. "The problem, Miss Dean, is that there's just enough to point in your direction. Enough access. Enough activity. It's been logged. Someone came forward anonymously."
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Mr. Lane spoke again. "We've decided to end your employment effective immediately. You'll be escorted to clear your things."
Silence dropped.
I didn't speak. I couldn't. The blood in my ears was roaring.
"I didn't do this," I said again quiet now, broken.
But they weren't done.
"There's more," Mr. Lane added. "Leo Dean's support plan under our extended pediatric treatment has been withdrawn."
I blinked.
"What?"
"Due to the investigation and your termination, your charity sponsorship is no longer valid. His treatment is on hold until full payment is made."
"No, no please" I stepped forward, shaking. "He's a child. He's my brother. I'll pay, I'll do anything..."
"I'm sorry, Amara," the woman said without an inch of warmth. "But the board has spoken. Exceptions can't be made."
They dismissed me without another word.
I turned, numb, and walked out.
It felt like everything I was holding on to had just snapped loose all at once.
I didn't wait.
I didn't care that my legs barely worked or that I was still wearing my ID badge or that the world felt like it had tilted sideways.
I just ran.
Out of the office.
Down the hallway.
Past the nurses who barely looked up.
Hot tears blurred the edges of everything. I kept my head down, one hand covering my mouth so I wouldn't scream.
Then,I slammed into someone.
Hard.
The impact knocked the breath out of me. My clipboard clattered to the floor.
"I'm....I'm so sorry," I stammered, already backing away, not even seeing who it was. "I wasn't looking, I ....please.."
I glanced up.
It was him.
The man in black.
The one with storm eyes and too much silence.
He looked at me like he didn't recognize me at first like I wasn't supposed to be here, breathless and falling apart. His brow furrowed slightly. That was all.
"I'm fine," he said flatly. Then walked past me without another word.
Just like that.
He disappeared into the hallway behind me, headed toward the room I'd just been kicked away from his grandfather's room.
I didn't stop to watch.
I kept running.
---
Damien's POV
The room smelled like bleach and endings.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.
Grandpa lay still—eyes closed, lips parted just enough to make it look like he was just thinking. Resting. Plotting the next move.
But he was gone.
The silence wasn't peaceful.
It was cruel.
I walked to the bed. Slowly. Sat in the same chair I'd used the night before.
And I stared.
"You always said death didn't scare you," I murmured. "But you never told me it would piss me off."
My jaw clenched. I could already hear the board scheming. The vultures circling. The fake condolences and thinly veiled grabs for control.
"I know this death is suspicious," I said under my breath, voice low and sharp. "And I'll find out. You have my word."
I reached for his cold hand.
"But first…"
A bitter smile tugged at my mouth. "I'll try to fulfill your last wish. Even if it kills me."
My gaze shifted toward the door the same one she had just vanished through. That girl. That sharp-eyed, quiet-mouthed nurse who never looked me in the eye for more than a second.
"Amara Dean," I muttered. "You're going to be my ticket."
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
"Just 100 days, Grandpa," I whispered. "Just 100 days."
And then I walked out
I didn't even make it far.
The farther I ran, the heavier everything felt.
The more I tried to breathe, the more it burned.
And when I couldn't go any further, I sank to the pavement just behind the staff parking lot, right beside the trash bins, hugging my knees like they were the only things keeping me from falling apart.
I pressed my face into my hands and sobbed silent and full and ugly.
They'd stopped Leo's treatment.
Said my bills were frozen.
Said I was unfit.
A disgrace.
A liar.
And worst of all…
He was gone.
The only patient who had looked at me with softness instead of suspicion… the only person who didn't ask for more than I had to give.
He was gone.
I didn't hear footsteps. But I heard a cough.
Sharp. Deliberate.
I froze.
Slowly, I looked up.
Damien Black stood over me, hands in his pockets, face unreadable.
He didn't kneel. Didn't ask if I was okay.
He just pulled out a clean, expensive-looking napkin from his coat and dropped it beside me like it was contaminated.
"I hate weak people," he said, voice low and cold. "And tears are even worse."
His eyes cut into me. "If you can cry blood instead, that might actually be worth watching."
I blinked. For a second, I didn't move.
Then I grabbed the napkin and threw it right back at him, hitting him square in the chest.
"Keep your pity silk," I snapped, standing slowly, wobbling on my feet. "I'm done crying."
I turned to walk away.
"I have a job for you."
I stopped.
His voice had shifted quieter. But heavier.
I turned halfway, arms still crossed, not bothering to hide the annoyance in my face. "What?"
Damien stepped closer, just one step. His eyes didn't leave mine.
"100 days," he said. "That's all I need."
I raised a brow, unimpressed. "You need a nurse? Book a hospital."
He tilted his head, almost amused. "I need someone to teach me how to love."
I stared at him like he'd lost his mind.
"No feelings," he added before I could say anything. "No strings. Just a deal. You act like someone worth falling for. You show me how people connect, or whatever the hell it is normal couples do."
I scoffed. "Ew."
He smirked. "Thought so." He reached into his jacket and handed me a clean white business card with nothing but a number and a name Damien Black in fine silver font.
"You'll get money. Enough to cover your brother's full treatment. All of it. Upfront."
I hesitated, just a second too long.
"By day 100," he said, backing away toward his sleek black car, "you walk away. Rich. Debt-free. Unattached. No questions asked."
The driver opened the door. He slid in without another word.
The door shut.
The car peeled away into the road.
I stared at the card in my hand.
Then rolled my eyes, muttering under my breath, "Pfft. No. Never."
But I didn't throw it away.
Not yet