Chapter 2

Now, I sat in silence at a small cafe in the city center. My face felt stiff from tears that had dried and then fallen again, alternating all night long.

My career was ruined. The name I'd worked so hard to build over eight years of medical school, all of it vanished in a single ethics hearing that lasted less than two hours.

And I'd never done any of what they accused me of.

My phone buzzed on the table. My father's name appeared on the screen.

I almost didn't answer it. My hand trembled as I picked up the phone, my finger hesitating over the green button. But I knew my father wouldn't stop calling until I picked up. He was a persistent man, one of the reasons he'd succeeded as a businessman.

"Father," I said, my voice hoarse.

"Camila, your father has heard everything."

"How did you..."

"The hospital called me. They said your license was revoked. They said you were recommended for rehab. I didn't know you'd become like this. Drugs? You're taking drugs?"

"That's not true. They framed me," I said.

"Not true? Then why did your blood test come back positive? Why were there drugs in your locker?"

"Listen to me!"

"You've shamed this family. I sent you to the best medical school. I paid for everything, and you repay me by becoming a drug addict? You're so different from your sister. She's much better than you."

I closed my eyes. Fresh tears flowed again.

"I'm not an addict, and don't compare me to her!" I said.

"Enough. I don't want to argue. Now come home."

"Home?"

"To Mexico. I've already booked your ticket."

"I don't want to," I said.

"You don't have a choice. You can't work there anymore. Your name is blacklisted. No hospital will take you. If you stay there, you'll just be wasting money on rent and living miserably all alone."

"Father?"

"And one more thing, your sister is getting married. You have to come. My boss from Europe has a son, and we've agreed to arrange a marriage between him and your sister. What about you and Ethan? When is Ethan coming to Mexico to meet me?"

"Ethan cheated on me and we're over," I said.

"I already knew that. He was never going to marry you. I'll find the best man for you. After your sister gets married, it'll be your turn."

I fell silent.

"Camila? Are you listening?"

"Are you serious?"

"I never joke about matters like this. You're old enough, twenty-eight years old. Soon you'll be thirty."

"I just lost my career and my relationship failed, and now you're telling me to get married?"

"This is the best solution. You'll have a husband who can protect you. You won't have to work anymore. Isn't that better than suffering alone in a foreign country?"

I bit my lower lip until it almost bled.

This wasn't a solution. To me, it was a different kind of hell. I didn't want to marry a man I didn't know.

But how could I explain all of that to my father? That stubborn old man who always believed he knew what was best for his children?

"I don't want to hear any excuses. Come back to Mexico and forget everything about medicine in the US. That chapter is closed."

My father hung up.

I stared at my dark phone screen.

Was this my life now? Ruined at twenty-eight?

My tears were about to fall again when suddenly I heard shouting from inside the cafe. Not from the main area, but from a closed room at the very end. A room with a small sign that read "VVIP Room" and two men in black suits standing outside.

"IS THERE A DOCTOR IN HERE?"

The shout was in English, but with an unfamiliar accent, Eastern European maybe, Russian or Ukrainian, and before I knew what I was doing, my body was already standing.

My feet moved quickly toward that room. My hand was already pushing the door open before my brain could think.

"I'M A DOCTOR!" I yelled as I entered the room.

The scene inside made me focus immediately.

An elderly man lay on a large sofa. His face was pale, his lips bluish, his hands clutching his chest. Cold sweat covered his forehead even though the temperature inside the room was freezing.

He was having a heart attack. I could recognize the signs from five meters away. His left hand gripping his chest and the difficulty breathing.

Around the elderly man, several people were panicking. They were speaking loudly in a language I didn't understand. Their faces were terrified, some were holding the old man's shoulders, some were pacing back and forth, some kept yelling into their phones.

One man with a sturdy build and a blank expression blocked my path. "Who are you?"

"I'm a doctor. I can help."

I immediately knelt beside the elderly man.

"He needs to be laid flat. Lift his legs a little, higher than his chest," I said.

Two people immediately moved to follow my instructions despite their panic.

I checked his pulse. Weak, fast, irregular. I put my ear near his mouth, listening to his short, shallow breathing.

"Does he have a history of heart disease? Previous heart attacks? High blood pressure? Diabetes?" I asked.

The people around him exchanged glances. No one answered, then a voice came from behind me, cold and firm.

"Yes. He has all of them."

I turned.

A man stood near the door. He might have just walked in, or he might have been there from the start, but I was too focused on the patient to notice him. Now my eyes were on him.

He was tall, even by European standards, probably around 190 centimeters. Black suit, tailored, clearly made for his body, but none of that was what stood out most about him. It was his eyes. They were blue.

"Full history?" I asked.

"Three heart attacks. Bypass surgery two years ago. Type two diabetes, chronic hypertension. He was on his way to the airport to return to his country. Suddenly complained of chest pain," he said.

I nodded. "He needs to go to the hospital now. Call an ambulance."

"It's already on its way."

I turned my focus back to the elderly man. His hands were still clutching his chest, his breathing growing shorter.

"Aspirin. Do you have aspirin?" I asked.

One of the man's assistants rummaged through a small bag and pulled out a pill bottle. I took it, checking the label.

Aspirin 80 mg. Enough.

"Help him chew these," I said, handing over two tablets. "Chew, don't swallow."

As the elderly man chewed the aspirin, I kept monitoring his pulse. Still weak, but at least not getting worse. I also checked his blood pressure with a portable sphygmomanometer one of the assistants handed me. 90/60. Low, but still tolerable.

"Lower his head slightly, let the blood flow to his heart," I said.

The ambulance arrived ten minutes later.

Two paramedics came in with a stretcher. I gave them a brief report on what had been done, the patient's medical history, and his latest condition. They nodded and immediately evacuated the elderly man.

The people in black suits followed them out, some carrying bags, some walking beside the stretcher, and I was still standing in the middle of the now-empty VVIP room.

"Thank you."

The voice snapped me back to reality.

I turned.

The blue-eyed man was still standing near the door. He hadn't followed the ambulance crew.

He walked closer. A few meters suddenly felt so close when his blue eyes locked onto mine.

"You're welcome," I said.

"You saved my father," he said.

So that was his father.

"I just did what any doctor should do," I said.

My phone buzzed again in my pocket.

Father.

My eyes went back to the man in front of me. Those blue eyes were still staring at me like he could read everything on my mind.

"I have to go," I said quickly.

I turned and walked toward the door. My small feet moved quickly past the cafe chairs that were starting to fill up with afternoon visitors, then my hand reached for the main door handle.

"I don't know your name yet."

I paused for a moment and didn't turn around.

"Camila," I said softly. "Camila López."