Chapter 2

Lying in the hospital bed, I couldn’t help but reflect on how drastically my life had changed. Just a few months ago, I was an intern at St. Peter Hospital, filled with dreams of becoming a successful doctor. Now, I found myself entangled in the web of the Carter family, the most powerful family in New York City. Their disdain for me was palpable, especially from Karla, Howard's mother, and her adopted daughter, Anastasia.

I never intended to be part of their world. To Karla, I was merely an intern, unworthy of her family’s status. The weight of her judgment hung over me like a dark cloud. I remembered the rainy day that had altered my fate.

It was a typical dreary afternoon when I saw a crowd gathered near a luxury SUV. My heart raced as I pushed through the throng, only to discover an elderly man slumped against the side of the vehicle, gasping for breath. Panic surged through me; he was having a heart attack.

“Someone call 911!” I shouted, but the crowd was frozen, their eyes wide with fear.

I approached the man, kneeling beside him. “Sir, can you hear me? My name is Charlotte and I’m a doctor. We need to get you to the hospital.”

His eyes flickered open, filled with pain. “I… I can’t breathe…”

“Just hold on,” I said, assessing the situation. The traffic was a nightmare, and there was no way an ambulance could reach us in time. I turned to his driver, a young man who looked equally distressed. “We need to get him to St. Peter’s. Can you help me?”

He nodded, desperation in his eyes. “What do you need?”

“Can you help him onto my bike? It’s the only way we can move quickly,” I urged, pointing to my motorcycle parked a few feet away.

The driver hesitated, glancing at the crowd. “But… it’s dangerous.”

“It’s more dangerous to stay here! We have to act now!” I insisted, my voice firm.

With a deep breath, he agreed. “Okay, let’s do it.”

We carefully lifted the elderly man, supporting him as we maneuvered him onto my bike. “You sit behind him and hold him steady,” I instructed the driver. “I’ll drive as carefully as I can.”

As we started down the small streets and alleys, I could feel the weight of the man’s life resting on my shoulders. “Stay with me, sir,” I said, glancing back at him. “We’re almost there.”

“I… I can’t…” His voice was weak, but I could see determination in his eyes.

“You can! Just focus on my voice,” I encouraged, weaving through traffic, adrenaline coursing through my veins. “You’re going to be okay.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we arrived at St. Peter Hospital. I parked hastily and jumped off the bike, helping the driver lift the man off. “Get the doors!” I shouted as we rushed inside.

“Emergency!” I called to the staff, who sprang into action. They quickly took the man from our arms, and I felt a surge of relief wash over me as they wheeled him away.

As I stood there, heart pounding, I realized that this moment, this act of urgency, was just the beginning of my journey—one that would intertwine my fate with the formidable Carter family and test my resolve in ways I never imagined.

As I stepped out of Mr. Wendell Carter’s room, a wave of relief washed over me. He was stable now, thanks to the swift actions we had taken. But before I could catch my breath, I noticed a figure storming toward me. It was Howard Carter, his face a mask of fury.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He shouted, his voice echoing through the sterile hallway. “You brought my grandfather to the hospital on a bike?”

I froze. It wasn’t that I didn’t recognize him; I had seen his face countless times on television and magazine covers. Howard Carter, the city’s most eligible bachelor, was known for his charm and wealth, but right now, all I saw was anger.

“I—” I stammered, struggling to find the words.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?” he continued, his voice rising. “You could have killed him!”

Just then, Dr. Roberts, my senior doctor, stepped in between us, sensing the escalating tension. “Mr. Carter, calm down,” he said firmly. “If it weren’t for her quick thinking, your grandfather would have died. The heart attack was severe.”

I could see Howard’s expression shifting, the anger slowly dissipating as the reality of the situation sank in. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair, frustration giving way to concern.

“Is he going to be okay?” Howard finally asked, his voice softer, almost vulnerable.

“Yes,” Dr. Robert replied, "he's stable, and the doctors are monitoring him closely.”

“Thank you for saving him,” he said.

“You should be grateful to our intern doctor, Howard. She acted quickly and decisively. That’s what makes a good doctor.” Howard nodded.

Back to the present, I was Lying in the hospital bed, I could hear the muffled sounds of voices just outside my room. My heart raced as I recognized one of them—it was Howard. I had hoped that after everything that had happened, he might see the truth in my eyes, recognize my innocence. But as I listened, I could hear the sharpness in his tone, the underlying anger that had defined our last encounter.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and there he stood, framed in the doorway. His cold eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I felt exposed, as if he could see straight through me.

“You called me and made me leave my important meeting just to show me her acting?” he said, his voice dripping with disdain as he addressed the doctor beside me.

“Acting?” I echoed, disbelief washing over me. Did he really think I was pretending? The weight of his words hit me like a punch to the gut. How could he believe that I would fake something so serious?