The question hung heavy in the air: Are we bankrupt?
Emilio Cruz's jaw tightened, the muscles twitching beneath his aging skin. Rose could feel the slow churn of dread rise from her gut. He had always been strong, unshakeable. But now, he looked like a man who had been carrying far too much weight for far too long.
Her mother stared down at her soup like it could somehow rescue them from the conversation.
"Yes," Emilio finally said, his voice low but steady. "But I have a solution. Just... not right now. We'll talk tomorrow."
"Dad," Rose started with her face giving an expression of pity towards her dad.
"Tomorrow, baby. I promise."
Rose clenched her fists beneath the table, but she nodded. For tonight, she'd allow that sliver of space. Tomorrow, he owed her the truth.
The hospital buzzed with its usual rhythm the next morning—hurried footsteps, and pages echoing through the corridors. Rose walked through it all like a ghost, her mind still caught in last night's revelations. She barely registered the greetings from colleagues or the familiar scent of disinfectant.
She needed clarity.
Instead, she got chaos.
"Cruz!" Nurse Maddie flagged her down as she walked toward the surgery board. "Trauma team is bringing in a VIP—gunshot wound, chest. They're rerouting him straight to OR 2."
"Why the VIP treatment?" Rose asked, scanning the chart.
Maddie leaned in. "His name is Mateo Salvadore. He's the son of the wealthy and powerful Salvadore. Anyways he's in a critical situation and the hospital's directors said to have the best resident hold onto him before the doctor arrives."
Rose's stomach dropped. Everyone in the city had heard of the Salvadore family. Rumors of underground dealings, racketeering, political ties—all whispered behind closed doors. And now his son was her patient?
"Is he stable?" she asked.
"Barely. He lost a lot of blood. He's lucky the ambulance made it here in time."
By the time Rose reached the OR, Mateo was being wheeled in, his shirt soaked with blood, chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. He was young, maybe early twenties, with striking features made pale from blood loss. The bullet had missed his heart by a hair.
"Let's move!" Rose barked. "Two pints of O-neg, stat. We're not losing anyone today okay!?"
That was one of her principles: Fight for the patient as if your life's on the line.
And she always did that for all her patients. She was one of the only doctors who secretly bawled their eyes out if they failed to save a patient, or if they couldn't help a patient.
She scrubbed in, letting the adrenaline take over. Once again, the world narrowed to instruments, monitors, and the delicate dance of life and death. The best doctor had arrived and Rose had to come in to assist.
Hours passed. The bullet was removed. Arteries clamped. Lung damage controlled. The moment the monitors steadied into a healthy rhythm, Rose stepped back, drenched in sweat. But all of a sudden Blood Pressure started dropping and there was that damn flat line threatening to appear. He was losing blood.
"Where are the blood bags?" The doctor yelled.
" He has a rare blood type and we managed to secure just enough for the normal procedure. He's out of the ones we brought." The scrub next replied .
The doctor tried to resuscitate him as he was dying even though it was an open chest surgery.
"What's his blood type?"
"AB Doctor," the nurse replied .
"I'm AB too." I'll give him my blood. There's no time.
"But Doc– "but before the nurse could finish, the doctor interrupted.
"Let her do it." He said. "Quickly let her sit down and you start collecting it."
Mateo was stabled for a little while and when they had ensured the blood collected was okay to be used , they immediately connected and continued the surgery. Rose was too weak to continue and was sent to a bed where she was given an IV drip .
"Mateo was wheeled into recovery, sedated and monitored closely. Rose watched from outside the glass window for a moment longer than she usually would.
"We saved him ." The doctor said to Mateo's father who stood outside with Dante and his mother.
"Thank you so much Doc." She said as her knees gave out and she sobbed.
"I told you to leave my kids out of your business." She said, turning to Dante's father. She turned back to the doctor. "What took you so long. I thought there was a complication."
"Well ma'am there was actually. My assistant actually had to donate blood immediately to save him. Due to his rare blood type since the blood bank was out of blood for his type."
"Oh my God, Oh my God. Can I meet this kind soul."
"She's recovering right now. Rose Cruz is her name."
Dante's father gave a slight smirk. And Dante widened his eyes in shock. Trying to think of why fate kept bringing them together.
Dante decided to accompany his mom as she went to thank Rose. He was so happy with how much his mom loved Rose. But what he couldn't tolerante was the look of disgust Rose gave him. So he headed out, and called Rose's dad.
" Sir, I've been patient enough . This is the last chance I'm giving you. The wedding is to be held in one week from now." He said hanging up the phone.
Later that evening, after Rose had recovered completely , Rose stepped out to grab coffee and clear her head. She nearly walked straight into a tall figure waiting by the hallway.
"Dr. Cruz?"
She looked up—and froze.
Mateo Salvadore.
His shirt was wrinkled hospital cotton, but he somehow still radiated charisma and danger. His dark eyes studied her with keen interest.
"You shouldn't be out of bed," she said sharply.
"I needed to see you. To thank you."
"You almost died," she replied. "Let's save the dramatics for the movies."
He smiled, and something in it was disarming.
"Still. I heard you were the one who saved me. I wanted to see the woman behind my survival."
"Well, now you have. Go rest."
"I will. After you answer one question."
She sighed. "What?"
"Are you always this fierce with everyone or just people like me?"
Rose narrowed her eyes. "People like you?"
"People who make you nervous."
"I'm not nervous. I'm exhausted."
Mateo chuckled, wincing slightly. "Good. Because I'd like to get to know you better. If you'll let me."
Rose turned without replying, but her pulse had quickened. She hated that he noticed it.
By the time she reached her parents' house that night, her brain was fried, emotions frayed. She just wanted sleep, silence, maybe a hug from someone who didn't need saving.
Instead, her father was waiting in the living room. Alone.
He gestured to the couch. "We need to talk."
Rose dropped her bag and sat.
"You said you had a solution," she said. "So talk."
Emilio took a deep breath. "I didn't want to tell you like this. Not when you're already carrying so much. But..."
He looked older than she'd ever seen him.
"We are in debt, yes," he began. "The business failed. A lawsuit we couldn't win. Your mother and I tried to hide it, but the truth is—we've been surviving on borrowed time."
"I can help—"
"No. Listen to me."
He reached into a drawer and pulled out a worn envelope. Inside was a document.
A contract.
Rose's stomach dropped.
"What is this?"
"My solution."
Her eyes scanned the contents. Her name. A date. A signature.
An engagement agreement.
She looked up, ice running through her veins.
"What is this, Dad?"
"He saved our business and is acting for a marriage in return."
She stood abruptly, the room spinning. "You sold me?"
"No! I p
rotected us. I saved us."
"Who?" Her voice was cold.
He hesitated.
"Who's the man, Dad?"
"Dante Salvadore."
"What?!" "Whattt!!?" Her eyes widened in shock.