The pungent smell of antiseptics lingered in the hospital corridor, mixing with the faint beeping of machines from the patient rooms. Elara Hayes pressed her palms tightly against her thighs as she sat outside her mother's ward. Her eyes stung from sleepless nights, yet she refused to let tears fall again. She had cried too much already, and still, the bills stacked higher than she could reach.
The white envelope on her lap trembled in her hands. Inside was the invoice — a cruel reminder that the little savings she had left could barely cover two more days of treatment.
"Miss Hayes," the nurse's voice was soft but carried a weight that crushed Elena's heart further, "please settle the outstanding payment as soon as possible. The hospital management is very strict."
"I… I will," Elara whispered, though her throat burned with the lie.
When the nurse left, Elara leaned back against the cold wall, staring blankly at the ceiling lights. That was when a tall figure cast a shadow over her.
"You look like someone carrying the weight of the world," a deep voice remarked.
Startled, Elara glanced up. Standing before her was a man she had never seen before — sharp suit tailored to perfection, dark eyes like a storm locked behind composure, and an aura that seemed too commanding for a place like this. He wasn't a doctor, nor a visitor like the others. There was something about him that screamed danger… and power.
"What are you doing here, I don't even know you and as far as I know my mother doesn't owe anyone so will you please leave". Elara said. The man smirked and said "Well I just came to keep you company as I can see you really need one"
"I don't need company," Elara muttered, clutching the envelope tighter.
The man didn't flinch. Instead, he crouched down, leveling his gaze with hers. "You need help. And I happen to be offering it."
Elara's breath caught. For a split second, hope flickered inside her chest, but she immediately shook it away. Nothing in this world came for free. "As I said I don't know you, so why are you helping me, I don't even know your name."
He smirked, but there was no mockery in it — only certainty. "Names aren't important when life hangs by a thread. Your mother is in that room, isn't she? The bills are drowning you. I can solve that."
She stood abruptly, putting distance between them. "I said I don't need your help. Whatever your business is, take it somewhere else."
For the first time, the man's eyes narrowed. Not in anger, but in amusement at her defiance. "Pride," he murmured, almost to himself. "It's admirable… but useless in the face of desperation."
Elara's heart pounded, but she held her ground. "Please, leave me alone."
With a short exhale, he rose to his full height, towering over her. From the inner pocket of his suit, he pulled out a sleek black business card. Without waiting for her consent, he tossed it onto the chair beside her. "When reality finally crushes your pride," he said, voice calm but carrying an edge that left her unsettled, "call me."
And just like that, he walked away, his footsteps fading down the corridor.
Elara stared at the card like it was a venomous snake. For a long moment, she refused to touch it. She even considered throwing it into the trash. But when she heard her mother cough faintly inside the ward, her trembling hand betrayed her resolve. She slipped the card into her pocket. Only to throw it away later, she told herself.
The next two days were a blur. Elara worked shifts at a small diner from dawn to midnight, wiping tables, serving customers, and counting meager tips that barely bought her mother's medication for one night. Her palms blistered, her legs ached, but she forced herself to keep going.
"Maybe tomorrow will be better," she whispered each night, staring at the ceiling of her cramped apartment. But tomorrow always came with heavier burdens.
On the third day, as the sun dipped behind the hospital windows, Dr. Harris pulled her aside. His voice was heavy with reluctant compassion.
"Miss Hayes, we've done everything we can. But without the payment, we cannot continue treatment. You have…" He paused, adjusting his glasses, "…five hours to make a decision. If the bills are not settled, your mother will have to be discharged."
The ground seemed to tilt beneath her feet. "Discharged?" she repeated faintly. "She's too weak to even walk—how can you send her away?"
"I'm sorry," Dr. Harris said, his expression pained. "Rules are rules. I truly wish I could do more."
When he left, Elara collapsed against the wall, her knees buckling under the weight of despair. Five hours. Only five hours before her mother would be cast out into the cold world without the care she needed to survive.
Her hands shook as she buried her face in them. She had tried everything. She had begged, worked, borrowed—but it was never enough.
That was when she remembered the business card. Slowly, with trembling fingers, she pulled it out of her pocket. The card gleamed under the fluorescent light—black, elegant, and strangely intimidating. A name embossed in silver letters stared back at her: Cassian Volkov. The man with eyes like a storm.
Her pride screamed at her not to do it. But her mother's frail face, pale and fragile on that hospital bed, shattered every wall she had built around herself.
Elena gripped the card so tightly it cut into her palm. Her voice broke as she whispered to herself, "Forgive me, Mom… I have no choice." With tears blurring her vision, she dialed the number.