Chapter 5

Reina/Ina

The next morning, the sun rose early, but it remained cold inside the ICU. I felt as though a little of my strength had returned. Although my shoulder and side still stung whenever I took a deep breath, I tried not to show any signs of weakness.

I lay in bed, staring at the door as I waited. I knew that Alejandro’s contact from the Silver Team could arrive at any moment.

At exactly eight in the morning, I heard the familiar sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway. The door opened, and Zach walked in for his morning rounds. Just like yesterday, he wore a white lab coat over his blue scrubs, standing straight and composed. He held a clipboard, and his stethoscope hung around his neck.

“Good morning, Ina,” he greeted me as he approached my bed.

He immediately checked the monitor to read my vital signs. “How are you feeling today? Do your stitches still hurt?”

“I’m feeling a little better, Doc. It’s easier to breathe now,” I lied in my hoarse, gentle voice.

He gave me a slight smile. “That’s good to hear. You have a strong body, and your tissues are regenerating quickly, so you’re responding well to the medication.”

He stepped closer to check the IV line in my hand when someone suddenly knocked on the door.

It opened, and a man wearing the uniform of a well-known courier service walked in. He wore a cap that partially concealed his face, but the way he stood and observed his surroundings told me he wasn’t an ordinary delivery boy.

He was a specialist from the Silver Team.

“Good morning. Delivery for Miss Ina?” he asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

Zach frowned, confusion crossing his face. He glanced at me before looking at the delivery guy.

“Who is it from?”

My mind immediately started working. I had to get ahead of Zach before he became too suspicious.

“Ah, Doc...” I interrupted, trying to sound embarrassed and hesitant. “I asked one of the nurses to contact my former employer... a private catering company. I told them I’d been in an accident. Maybe... maybe my former boss sent me some help.”

Zach studied me for a long moment, as if trying to determine whether my explanation made sense.

Finally, he let out a deep breath and nodded at the delivery guy. “All right. Just leave it on the table.”

The man placed a fairly large brown envelope on the overbed table. Before leaving, he glanced at me and gave a slight nod of respect.

When the door closed, Zach faced me with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Your former boss seems kind enough to send you a package right away. But just a reminder, Ina... you still can’t leave this hospital until I say your stitches are safe.”

I kept my eyes on the brown envelope resting on the table.

Inside it were the things I needed for my new life: money, car keys, a burner phone, and the address of my temporary safehouse.

It was the beginning of my disguise as an ordinary citizen while I planned the downfall of the people who had killed my parents.

That afternoon, I was transferred from the ICU to a private room. It was bigger, quieter, and offered more privacy. The money inside the brown envelope the Silver Team had left earlier would be a great help. It allowed me to settle my hospital bills without using my family’s real identification.

I lay on the new bed, watching the IV drip. I was feeling a little better, but my mind was still occupied with figuring out how I would begin my investigation.

The door opened, and Zach came in again. He was carrying a food tray. This time, he had brought more than just plain soup. There was a nutritious meal consisting of boiled chicken, fresh fruit, and warm rice.

“Since you’re in a private room now, your meals have been upgraded too,” he joked as he placed the tray on my table. “You need plenty of protein and vitamins to help your wounds heal faster. Go on, eat while it’s still warm.”

He helped me sit up a little. Although my side still hurt, I could move more easily now than I had the night before.

I picked up my spoon and slowly began eating while he stood beside me, watching every bite with a serious yet concerned look.

After I had taken a few bites, he folded his arms and leaned against the wall. He looked at me intently.

“Ina,” he began seriously, his voice low. “Is there really no family or friend we can contact? Anyone who could stay with you here while you recover?”

I stopped eating.

I knew that, as my doctor, he was concerned about my safety and well-being as his patient. But I had to stick to my story.

“I really don’t have anyone, Doc Zach,” I replied, keeping my voice gentle and sad as I looked down at my food. “I’m all alone. I’m used to having no one to rely on.”

Zach sighed. He clearly wasn’t convinced, but he chose not to press me any further, perhaps to avoid stressing me out. He approached me, picked up my empty glass, and filled it with water.

“All right. I won’t bother you about it anymore,” he said, handing me the glass. “The nurses are here, anyway. And if you need anything, just let me know. Don’t be shy.”

I looked at him as I accepted the glass. With every act of kindness he showed me, the heavier my heart felt.