People glanced at the man standing at the front gate of the hospital. His polished black shoes and the Maserati MC20 parked beside him made him stand out. He sat on the hood of the car, his eyes fixed on the main entrance of the building, waiting.
"Who could he be waiting for?"
"Maybe his wife."
"She's lucky."
The man was Phillip Harrington, Chief Technical Officer of Imperial Dynamics System, a leading mechanical engineering firm specializing in consultations and large-scale projects.
Phillip wasn't the type of executive who sat behind a desk all day giving out orders. His career had been built on solving problems other people thought were impossible. From oil refineries in the Middle East, to high-speed rail projects in Asia, to aerospace contracts in Europe, if it had gears, turbines, or engines involved, Phillip had likely worked on it.
As CTO, his role wasn't just about technology—it was about seeing where the industry was heading and making sure Imperial Dynamics stayed ahead of everyone else. He oversaw dozens of research divisions, negotiated with governments, and signed off on billion-dollar contracts. Yet, despite the power that came with the position, Phillip preferred the technical side. He still liked reviewing blueprints, visiting workshops, and talking with engineers on the ground.
He had the resume to match his position. A doctorate in mechanical engineering, a master's in industrial systems, and even an MBA that gave him the edge in boardroom battles. But why is he waiting in front of the hospital?
The answer was simple.
"Good afternoon, Doctor!"
A beautiful woman in a white coat stepped out of the hospital's main entrance. Her blonde hair was tied neatly behind her head, and even in her work attire, she looked glamorous enough to turn heads.
Phillip straightened from the hood of the Maserati and smiled. "Afternoon, Clara."
Dr. Clara Belfast. Not just any doctor, she was Phillip's girlfriend. An accomplished surgeon in her own right, she was just as much a perfectionist as he was. If Phillip spent his days fine-tuning machines and systems, Clara spent hers repairing lives.
"You didn't have to come all the way here," she said, slipping the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "You could've just waited at home."
"No can do, how can I let you go home by yourself when your car is still at the repair shop?"
"But you are a busy person…"
"When it comes to you, I can find ways to not be busy," Phillip flashed a smile before opening the door for her. "Come, I'll treat you to your favorite restaurant."
Clara's eyes sparkled like a child. "Strawberry cakes!"
She giddily clapped her hands together like she'd just won the lottery. "You remembered!"
Phillip chuckled. "Of course. How could I forget the woman who almost cried the last time they ran out of stock?"
"That was one time," Clara muttered, cheeks slightly red as she slid into the passenger seat.
Phillip closed the door gently before circling back to the driver's side. Once seated, he glanced at her and teased, "One time too many. The staff probably still talks about it."
Clara folded her arms, pretending to pout, but the corners of her lips betrayed her smile. "You're the worst."
"And you're adorable when you're mad," Phillip replied, starting the engine. The Maserati purred to life.
As they merged into traffic, Phillip let one hand rest casually on the wheel, the other in between her thigh, which felt silky, soft, and warm.
"By the way," she said suddenly, tilting her head, "how's that project you were talking about? The new turbine design?"
"Still in testing," Phillip answered, eyes on the road. "If it works out, we'll have a design that cuts fuel consumption by almost twenty percent. Governments love anything that saves money, so contracts are lining up."
Clara nodded, impressed. "And here I thought surgery was complicated. You're out there making entire countries depend on your machines."
Phillip smirked. "And you're out there saving lives every day. I think you win that one."
For a moment, silence settled in. Phillip's grip on the wheel tightened ever so slightly, his mind racing ahead of the conversation. Clara laughed at something on her phone but he barely heard it. In his thoughts, he was sure, Clara was the one. Tonight, after dinner, after strawberry cakes, he would finally ask the question he'd been holding back for too long.
Once they reached the restaurant, he would propose. She would be his for eternity.
Clara leaned her head against his shoulder, humming softly. Phillip rested the side of his head on top of her head too.
Then, something happened before them.
A loud bang, sharp enough to jolt Phillip from his thoughts. His eyes snapped forward. A massive truck on the opposite side had burst its tires, skidding violently as it merged to the lane he was occupying.
Phillip's eyes widened. His instincts took over. He yanked the steering wheel to the side, tires screaming in protest, but the truck was too close, too fast.
"Phillip!" Clara's scream tore through the cabin.
The impact came like thunder.
The truck slammed into the Maserati with brutal force, crumpling steel and glass in a single violent breath. The world flipped, twisted, shattered. Phillip felt weightlessness for half a heartbeat, then nothing at all. No pain. No sound. Just black.
Instant death.