The sun had crested its peak, casting long, stark shadows across the sterile hospital corridors.
Audrey adjusted her collar, glancing at the clock.
It was time to get Sofia home so Sunny could find some semblance of peace in the quiet of her recovery.
"Sofia, do you have everything?" Audrey asked, her voice echoing slightly in the tiled hallway.
"Yes, ma'am," the girl replied, standing sentinel beside a mountain of luggage.
Ariana, meanwhile, was engaged in a silent war with a suitcase that seemed to defy the laws of physics.
She heaved it forward, her face flushed.
"Was it really necessary," she grumbled, "to bring Sunny's entire wardrobe to the hospital? We're a medical wing, not a fashion week."
Sofia smirked. "Stop complaining, Aunty Bear."
"I'll show you complaining," Ariana hissed under her breath, tugging at a stubborn zipper.
Suddenly, Sofia gasped, her hands flying to her pockets. "Wait! I forgot my iPad in the room."
Audrey groaned, rubbing her temples. "Ugh... stay put. I'll get it." She turned and vanished back toward the wards.
Left alone with the luggage, Ariana gave the bag one final, frustrated yank.
The zipper gave way with a violent snap, and the contents—silks, cottons, and personal effects—exploded across the floor like a confetti cannon of laundry.
"Baby bear, don't just stand there," Ariana sighed, dropping to her knees to gather the mess. "Come help your auntie."
Silence met her request.
"Sofia? Why are you just standing there?"
"Aunty Bear," Sofia whispered, her voice trembling. "Why is that man staring at me like that?"
Ariana froze. She slowly lifted her gaze, following Sofia's line of sight.
Down the hall stood a man—still as a statue, eyes boring into them with a cold, predatory intensity.
The air in the hallway seemed to thin.
Audrey returned a moment later, iPad in hand, and stopped dead.
"What the hell are you two looking at?"
Ariana scrambled to her feet, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She didn't answer. She couldn't.
"What's going on?" Audrey demanded, looking between them.
"That man," Sofia said, pointing a small finger. "He's looking at Aunty Bear and it's making me uncomfortable."
Ariana didn't wait for an explanation. She turned on her heel, her instincts screaming.
"Woah, where are you going?" Audrey grabbed her arm.
"I have to get out of here. Now," Ariana said, her voice brittle.
"Why? Is that guy and his bodyguard threatening you?"
Ariana leaned in, her eyes wide with a terror that Audrey had never seen before.
"That's my boss."
Audrey's grip tightened, her expression darkening into a mask of protective fury.
"What? That's the same motherfucker that hurt you?"
As a man in a sharp black suit detached himself from the wall and began to approach, Ariana's resolve broke.
"Nope. I ain't staying." She bolted, disappearing up the nearest flight of stairs.
The man reached them, his expression dismissive, but Audrey stepped into his path. She caught his arm with the grip of a vice.
"Hey, mister. My friend isn't available at the moment. Try again later."
"Get your hands off me," he sneered, attempting to wrench away to follow Ariana.
Audrey didn't let go. Instead, she twisted, leveraging her weight with practiced precision.
In a blur of motion, the man was driven to the floor, his face pressed against the cold linoleum.
"Can't you tell when a girl isn't interested?" she asked softly.
Sofia calmly finished stuffing the clothes back into the bag.
"Let's go home, Aunty Orange," she said, looking at Audrey.
Audrey glanced toward the stairs where Ariana had vanished, then back at the man groaning on the floor. She sighed.
"Fine. Let's go."
High above the lobby, Roberto Gonzalez stepped into the Chief of Medicine's office without knocking.
"Mr. Gonzalez," Dr. Charles stuttered, rising from his chair.
"I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."
"I know," Roberto said, a thin, sharp smile playing on his lips. "I just came for a visit."
"How often do you 'stop by' for a visit?" Charles asked, his hand shaking as he reached for a decanter.
"Relax, Charles. I'm here for a reason, but someone... peeked my interest."
Charles paused, the crystal stopper clicking against the glass.
"I hope you don't have a target here. I can't allow an assassination on hospital grounds. It's against policy."
Roberto took the offered whiskey and swirled it, the amber liquid catching the light.
"I saw a lady not long ago."
"You want to murder a woman? Have you no heart?"
Roberto set the glass down with a rhythmic thud that sent a visible chill down the doctor's spine.
"I'm not here for business. I have the flu. But she caught my attention. I want to know what she's doing here."
"There are hundreds of women in this hospital, Roberto."
"Don't play coy with me, Doc. I don't have the patience."
Roberto signaled to his associate, Arturo, who produced a photograph of Ariana.
Charles sighed, the fight leaving him. "Oh, her. Her friend was admitted yesterday."
"Why?"
"I'm afraid that's confidential medical—"
Arturo didn't wait for the sentence to finish.
He drew a suppressed pistol and leveled it at the doctor's chest. Charles felt his pulse drop into his stomach.
"Her friend... she was the victim of the accident at Miss Castello's restaurant," Charles gasped.
"Alejandra's place?" Roberto's eyebrows shot up.
"I thought she was discharged."
"She was, but the stitches tore open. She was brought back in yesterday."
"Interesting," Roberto murmured. He stood up, smoothing his suit.
"Give Arturo the prescription for my flu and I'll be on my way."
Outside, seated in the back of his car, Roberto dialed a number.
"Why the fuck are you calling me?" Antonio's voice barked through the speaker.
"I didn't want to speak with you, dickhead. Where's Alejandra?"
"Call her phone if it's that important motherfucker"
"She won't pick up for me, and I know she's there with you."
A moment of muffled arguing followed before a woman's voice took over.
"What is the problem, Roberto?" Alejandra asked.
"Well, guess what a little birdie told me?"
"Stop with the mystery shit," she snapped.
"I'm at the hospital. I was informed your employee was admitted yesterday."
"Nigga, no one cares about an employee in the hospital," Antonio shouted in the background.
"Shut the hell up, Antonio! I wasn't talking to you," Roberto snapped back.
There was a long pause on Alejandra's end.
"Is she... is she alright?" Her voice was tight, the concern poorly hidden.
"Ohhh," Roberto laughed. "I smell gossip brewing"
"Why are you concerned, Alejandra?" Antonio asked in suspicion.
"I just want to know how she is doing," she said flatly.
"Well, whatever your reasons, you might want to get down here," Roberto said, his tone turning opportunistic.
"I heard she was charged triple the usual bill." He hung up before she could respond.
Alejandra didn't take her car. She took her motorcycle, weaving through traffic with a reckless speed that mirrored her racing thoughts.
I thought she didn't need me. I thought staying away would protect her.
She burst into Dr. Charles's office just as he was returning from his rounds.
The man looked like he wanted to jump out the window.
"Good afternoon, Miss Castello," he squeaked. "How can I—"
"Cut the crap, Doc," Alejandra growled, slamming her keys onto his desk.
"Why wasn't I informed that Sunny was back?"
Why are they all doing this to me? Charles thought despairingly. First Roberto, then Antonio... now her.
"I... I thought since you weren't the one who brought her in this time, you weren't handling the bill," Charles stuttered.
"Since when did you start making decisions for me?" Alejandra stepped into his personal space.
"I heard she was charged triple. If you had done your job the first time, she wouldn't be back here. And yet you have the nerve to stutter at me?"
"Miss Castello, the wound was treated! She must have done something strenuous to tear the stitches—"
"And the bill?"
"She was charged what the service was worth!"
"What her service was worth" Alejandra let out a dark, melodic chuckle that made the hair on the doctor's neck stand up.
"I'm going to make this simple for you. You will refund every cent of her money. And then,"
She leaned in closer, "you will add an extra five hundred to her account. Your treat."
"But... refunds are against hospital policy—"
"Oh, I don't think you seem to get it," Alejandra said, her voice dropping to a silk-smooth chill.
"I'm not asking."
With a metallic clack that sounded like a gavel in the silent office, she pulled a sleek handgun from the folds of her jacket and laid it on the mahogany desk.
She kept her hand resting casually over the grip, her fingers tracing the steel.
"Do you have a problem with the current arrangement, Doctor?"
Charles stared at the weapon, the blood draining from his face until he was the color of his own white coat.
"No, ma'am," he whispered.
Alejandra sighed, a sound of genuine pouty frustration.
"Such a shame. I was actually planning on taking a life today. Too bad."
She looked at the gun with the disappointed air of a child whose favorite toy had broken.
What is wrong with these people? Charles screamed internally.
They think the world is their personal shooting gallery.
He thought of his daughter's face and felt a cold sweat break across his brow.
He would do exactly what he was told.
"Go give her the money now," Alejandra commanded, her eyes snapping back to his with predatory intensity.
"And if she doesn't accept it, I will forget a bullet in your skull."
"How... how am I supposed to convince her to take it?" Charles stammered, picking up the heavy envelope of cash.
"You should have thought about that before you cheated her," Alejandra said, checking her nails.
"And be sure to tell her the reason for the refund."
Charles walked toward the ward, the envelope feeling like a lead weight in his hand.
He felt Alejandra's gaze burning into the back of his neck, a phantom laser sight tracking his every move.
He knocked and pushed open the door to Sunny's room.
"It's a good thing you're here, Doctor," Ariana said immediately, rising from her chair.
"She's been feeling uncomfortable for a while."
"Come on, Aria, you're exaggerating," Sunny groaned from the bed.
"I don't joke with your health," Ariana snapped.
"Now shut the hell up while the doctor attends to you."
Charles cleared his throat, his voice high and thin.
"I'll have the nurse bring some medication for the discomfort. But... that's not why I'm here. It has come to my notice that your bill was incorrect."
"What?" Ariana let out an exhausted sigh.
"How much do we need to add this time?"
"You misunderstand," Charles said, thrusting the envelope toward them. "I'm here to give you a refund."
The room went silent.
"Doctor, is it because I complained about my stomach?" Sunny asked, a worried smile on her face.
"I'm fine, really. Don't listen to her."
"No, no," Charles pleaded, his eyes darting toward the door as if he could see Alejandra's shadow through the wood.
"We simply didn't do our jobs well. This is an apology from the entire staff. Including myself."
Ariana crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing.
"Look here, Doc. We paid for a service. I don't get this bullshit you're talking about. We aren't accepting it."
"Please," Charles said, his voice cracking. "Accept the money."
"My friend is right," Sunny added gently. "I'm not taking it back. It's already been paid for."
She's going to kill me, Charles thought. I can feel the bullet already.
"The truth is," he blurted out, "someone donated a massive sum to the hospital to cover all patient costs. Everyone is getting a refund today. It's... a miracle."
"That sounds shady," Ariana said. "Someone just walked in and cleared everyone's bill? I don't believe you."
Why is this woman so difficult? Charles panicked. Are you the one the devil sent to ensure my demise?
Sunny reached out and grabbed Ariana's hand. "Fine. I'll accept it."
Ariana glared, but seeing the exhaustion in her friend's eyes, she finally relented.
She snatched the envelope from Charles and flipped it open, counting the bills with practiced speed.
She stopped. "Why is there an extra five hundred in here?"
"Umm... that's... part of the donation," Charles lied, wiping his forehead.
"I'd like to thank this person for their kindness," Sunny said, her face beaming.
"He... he wishes to remain anonymous," Charles squeaked.
He looked at Ariana, his eyes practically begging. "Please, Miss... just let this go."
Outside in the hallway, Alejandra leaned against the wall, listening to Sunny's genuine laughter.
A small, rare smile touched her lips. "At least she isn't badly hurt," she murmured to the empty air.
She reached for the door handle, her heart hammering with the urge to kick it open and see them, but she forced herself to pull away.
She couldn't be in that girl's life—not without bringing the darkness with her.
Charles stepped out, looking like he'd aged ten years.
"Mission accomplished," he breathed.
"Excellent," Alejandra said, her mask of cold indifference returning.
"Take good care of her. Keep me posted."
Later that night, the hospital was quiet. Ariana sat by Sunny's bed, the silence heavy between them.
"Aria, go home," Sunny said softly. "Your boss must be gone by now."
"I want to stay with you."
Sunny reached out, her fingers brushing Ariana's cheek.
"I know you're scared. But you have to face him at work tomorrow."
Ariana turned away, her voice tight. "You don't get it. I'm not going back. I've officially resigned."
Sunny sighed. "Look, I know it isn't easy. But if you quit now, where will you go? No one pays what he pays, and we have an extra mouth to feed now. Didn't you once say you wouldn't let him win?"
Ariana walked to the window, looking out at the city lights.
"Weren't you the one who told me to quit?"
"That was before," Sunny said firmly.
"Melissa is gone. It's on us to be the adults now. I don't want you to return for the money, Aria. I want you to go back to show him he can't buy your dignity. Show him you aren't like the women who throw themselves at his feet. You aren't scared of him. If he wants to intimidate you, make him work for it."
Ariana sighed, leaning her forehead against the cool glass. "I'll think about it."
The walk home felt like a fever dream.
Ariana moved through the cool night air, her mind buzzing with the news of the "anonymous donation" she'd just relayed to Audrey over the phone.
Suddenly, the roar of a high-performance engine cut through the silence. A black Bugatti Chiron drifted to the curb beside her.
"Ariana."
She didn't look. She kept walking, her heart leaping into her throat.
Roberto hopped out of the car, his expensive shoes clicking on the pavement as he chased her.
"Ariana, wait. We need to talk."
"There's nothing to talk about, sir," she said, her voice trembling but cold.
"Please leave me alone."
He reached out, grabbing her arm.
"Let me explain. Let's go somewhere quiet."
"I would rather die than go anywhere with you!" she shouted, wrenching her arm away.
Roberto stopped. He looked tired.
He'd spent the entire day outside the hospital, canceling meetings that cost millions just for this moment.
"Fine. We can talk here" Ariana said in exhaustion.
"I... I am sorry. I don't know what came over me. I lost my composure. I wasn't myself."
"You expect me to feel sorry for you?" she asked with a sharp, hysterical laugh.
"Please. I know you're mad. But I need you to forgive me."
Ariana shook her head. "There is no need for apologies because I don't work for you anymore."
"No," Roberto said, his voice cracking with a desperation that didn't fit a man of his stature.
"Please. Don't say that. I need you. I'll give you whatever you want. A raise, a car—anything. Just don't quit."
"It's not about the money!" she screamed, the frustration finally boiling over.
"You can't buy everyone! I don't need your money!"
Then, the impossible happened. Roberto Gonzalez, one of the most powerful men in the country, sank to his knees on the dirty sidewalk.
Ariana froze, her breath catching. "Mr. Roberto, this is absurd. Get up. You're embarrassing yourself."
"I don't care," he whispered, reaching forward to wrap his arms around her waist, clinging to her like a lifeline.
"Mr. Roberto... I..." She looked down at him, the sight of his broken pride softening her resolve just enough to speak. "I forgive you."
He looked up, hope flickering in his dark eyes.
"Does that mean you'll be in the office tomorrow?"
"No," she said, though she didn't pull away.
"I'm scared of you. You almost took advantage of me. I'm not Jessica. I have dignity. Whatever happened in the past... I forgive it. But I can't live in constant fear. Please, let go of my waist. I need to go home."
Roberto slowly stood up, smoothing his suit, though his eyes remained shadowed.
"Just know," he said quietly as she turned to leave, "the position is yours. Whenever you decide you're ready to come back, I'll be waitiing"