Chapter 3 No.3

St. Augustine's Private Hospital smelled of antiseptic and expensive lilies. The VIP wing was quieter than the rest of the hospital, the floors carpeted to muffle the sound of gurneys and footsteps. Amira stood at the nurses' station, her eyes scanning a patient chart, trying to drown out the noise in her head with medical data.

"Dr. Cortez."

The voice was clipped, sharp. Dr. Sterling, the hospital administrator, stood beside her. He was a small man who wore suits that were too large, as if trying to physically expand his presence.

"VIP patient in Suite 1. They requested you specifically."

Amira frowned. "I'm not on rotation for the VIP wing today. And I have rounds in the general ward."

"You have time for this," Sterling said, his eyes hard. "Go."

Amira felt a knot of dread tighten in her stomach. She closed the chart and walked down the hallway to Suite 1. She knocked once and pushed the door open.

The room was larger than her apartment. A plush seating area, a view of the park, and a state-of-the-art exam bed.

Delisa Conrad was reclining on the bed, looking like a tragic heroine from one of her movies. She wore a silk hospital gown that she must have brought herself. Ethan sat in the chair beside her, holding her hand, his thumb rubbing her knuckles soothingly.

Amira froze in the doorway. Her professional mask slipped for a fraction of a second, revealing the shock beneath.

"I'm not an OB-GYN," Amira stated, her voice stiff. She was an ER physician. This was not just outside her specialty; it was a flagrant breach of protocol.

Ethan looked up. His eyes were cold, daring her to make a scene. "But you are a doctor. Delisa trusts you. She's... fragile right now."

Delisa turned her head, her blonde hair cascading over the pillow. She smiled, a sweet, venomous expression. "I heard you're so thorough, Amira. I just want to make sure everything is... perfect."

Amira gripped the door handle. "I'll page Dr. Evans. He's the specialist."

She turned to leave, but Sterling was standing in the doorway, blocking her path. He wasn't looking at her; he was looking at Ethan with a sycophantic smile.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Dejesus?"

"Dr. Cortez seems reluctant to do her job," Ethan said smoothly.

Sterling turned to Amira, his smile vanishing. He leaned in close, his voice a low hiss. "The Dejesus family donates a wing to this hospital, Dr. Cortez. Their foundation pays your salary. Do this, or I'll make sure you're blacklisted from every reputable hospital in the tri-state area. You'll be practicing in a back-alley clinic by noon."

Amira looked at Sterling, then back at Ethan. It was a trap. A humiliation ritual.

She let go of the door handle. She walked to the sink and snapped on a pair of latex gloves. The sound was loud in the quiet room.

"Fine."

She approached the bed. Ethan didn't move. He stayed right there, watching. Amira began the basic checkup-blood pressure, heart rate, temperature. Her movements were precise, mechanical. She touched Delisa only where necessary, her skin crawling even through the gloves. This wasn't a medical exam; it was a performance for an audience of one. She knew it, and they knew she knew.

Ethan watched Amira's hands. He had a look of satisfaction on his face, enjoying the sight of his ex-girlfriend serving his current obsession.

Amira placed the stethoscope on Delisa's chest. She leaned in to listen to the heart rhythm.

Delisa lifted her head slightly, bringing her lips close to Amira's ear.

"He told me you're pathetic in bed, too," Delisa whispered. "Like a dead fish."

Amira's hand slipped. The stethoscope clamored against Delisa's collarbone. Amira pulled back, her breath hitching. She steadied herself, forcing her hand to stop shaking.

"Heart rate is normal," Amira announced, her voice sounding robotic to her own ears. "Blood pressure is slightly elevated."

Ethan frowned. "You sound bored. Show some respect. She's in distress."

"I am being professional," Amira countered, stripping off the gloves.

Ethan stood up, towering over her. He stepped into her personal space. "I'm filing a complaint for your attitude. You have zero bedside manner."

Sterling appeared in the doorway again, as if summoned by a silent alarm.

"Dr. Cortez, my office. Now."

Amira looked at Ethan one last time. He was smiling. She walked past him, head high, but inside, she was screaming.