All work and no play

The morning sun spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse, casting a soft gold hue across the marble floors and velvet drapes. The skyline shimmered in the distance, blurred by the rising heat of the early sun.

I stirred beneath my cream silk sheets, my lashes fluttering open with the slow grace of someone who had mastered control even in her sleep.

I then went straight to my kitchen to get myself a coffee.

I poured my coffee into a crystal mug, no sugar, no cream. Just the way I liked my mornings: bitter and honest.

With one hand cradling the warmth of my drink, I walked over to my glass dining table where my sleek leather folder lay, inside it…is the CV I prepared last night.

I sat down, legs crossed, coffee in hand, and flipped the folder open.

Every line of the document was pristine. My credentials were flawless and top class. I read through it bodly than ever , admiring how good I am .

As I sat there admiring my handwork and finishing the last sip of my bitter coffee, my phone lit up with a familiar yet unnamed number…the same one from last night. It say's,

“Call me. It’s time.”

I arched a brow, the tension crawling up my spine like a familiar lover. I didn’t reply…Instead, I tapped the number and pressed the phone to my ear, my breath steady and unreadable.

A pause. Then a man’s voice answered.. low, calm, sharp with intention.

“You made quite an impression yesterday, Lovia Diaz.” he said,

I didn’t flinch. “And you made quite a mess of my evening. You going to tell me who you are now? or should I keep calling you ‘mystery stalker’ in my head?” I replied.

He chuckled, smooth like a blade hidden in silk. “Let’s keep the mystery. It suits us both.”

I leaned back in my chair, eyes narrowing. “What do you want?” I questioned, with my index finger casually trailing the mouth of my mug.

“What we both want ….revenge,” he said and continued, voice smoother than ever,

“But while you’re busy charming billionaires and smiling in their faces, I’m already inside the operation that can bring them down.”

My jaw tightened slightly, then I questioned him..

“Why should I believe you?”

Then he replied,

“Because I just handed you Alejandro’s affair on a silver platter… and I have more, a lot more, but not over the phone.”

He paused for a second then continued,

“Come to 3rd Avenue Hospital, ask for Doctor Shane..you will be directed to my office.“

I raised an eyebrow. “A hospital? Is this a setup?” I questioned.

“If I wanted you gone,” he said coldly, “you’d already be in a body bag.”

Then, suddenly the line went dead.

I stared at my phone screen, a storm swirling behind my eyes. Then I whispered to myself,

“Doctor Shane, huh? Let’s see what secrets you're keeping.”

I stood from the table, grabbed my keys, and headed to the walk-in closet — because if I was going to walk into danger, then I will do it looking like the devil in Dior.

A few hours later,

I stepped out of my car, heels clicking against the pavement as I entered the pristine, white-marbled lobby of 3rd Avenue Hospital. 

The scent of disinfectant and quiet chaos filled the air — nurses brushing past, phones ringing, monitors beeping faintly behind closed doors.

I went straight to the front desk.

“I’m here to see Doctor Shane,” I said, voice smooth and assertive.

The nurse looked at me up and down, as if wondering what a woman in Chanel heels and a crop top wanted with a doctor this early in the day.

“He’s in the East Wing. Room 214. I’ll let him know you’re coming.” she uttered, eyes still on me.

I nodded and walked through the corridor, my sharp silhouette gliding between sterile white walls and glass doors.

As I neared Room 214, the door swung open before I could knock.

And there he was, Doctor Shane.

He's a young man in his mid-twenties. Tall and lean, with golden-brown skin, slightly messy curls, and ocean-blue scrubs that clung just enough to hint at the body beneath. 

His jawline looked carved out of stone, and his eyes dark, intelligent, cautious lingered on me with an intensity that made the air shift.

He was breathtaking.

But I didn’t flinch, I only arched a brow. “Doctor Shane?” I asked , 

He smirked faintly as if he already knows my thoughts.

 “You expected someone older?” he asked.

“I expected someone less... pretty.” I replied, voice abit flirty.

“You’re not what I pictured either,” he said, stepping aside to let me in. “But you’ll do.”

I entered his office …minimalist and clean, with a laptop on his desk, a half-empty espresso, and medical journals neatly stacked. 

A man of order. But there was something about his eyes that felt a bit disturbing , it was filled with rage, carefully restrained that gave away …he was far from ordinary.

“So you’re the one behind the photos,” I said, crossing my arms.

He nodded. “And the messages, and the call.” he replied.

“And what’s your story?” I asked, sitting on the chair across from his desk. 

“Because no one hates Alejandro that passionately without a reason.”

He sat across from me , fingers steepled under his chin.

“I met Alejandro a year ago,” he began, his voice lower now. 

“The hospital was struggling. I was fresh out of med school, youngest in my department. I secured a deal with one of YBA’s affiliates to fund our trauma center — but Alejandro showed up personally to ‘review’ the investment.”

He scoffed, jaw clenching. “Instead, he belittled me in front of the board. Said I was too young, too naive, and refused the deal unless I agreed to personally ‘entertain’ his guests at some off-record club event. Said it was part of earning respect.”

I narrowed my eyes filled with both amusement and satisfaction.

“He tried to pimp you out?” I questioned.

“More like humiliate me,” Shane said. “I refused. The funding disappeared overnight.. Patients died, Staff quit and he moved on like it meant nothing.”

A long silence stretched between us .

“And now you want revenge ?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.

His smile was sharp, dark. “I’ve wanted it since the day he shook my hand and called me a boy in a man’s job.”

I stared at him for a moment, then leaned forward.

“Then we have something in common.” I mumered, holding eye contact with him.

“More than you think,” Hereplied, pulling out a manila folder and sliding it across the table.

“What’s this?” I asked, opening it.

“Financial reports. Project Marrow. Offshore shell companies tied to Alejandro, Alexander, and Lucas .That’s their dirty little project. Fake humanitarian front — real purpose? A crypto laundering scam masked under overseas medical donations.”

My lips parted slightly. This was bigger than I thought.

“Why me?” I asked. “Why involve me?”

He leaned back. “Because you’re already inside their circle. You can move through shadows I can’t. But more than that… I know you hate them just as much.”

I smiled, eyes dropping to the documents. “You’re damn right I do.” I uttered under my breath.

I kinda love this guy already …he's too handsome for a guy plotting a revenge . He's more like a doctor that you would love to fall sick just to see him again.

I stared at him for a while as he fix his coat and get ready to head out .

“Alright handsome doctor…I would like to take a leave.“ I told him.

He turned and face me fully with a faint smile.

“Aight, it was a pleasure to meet you Lovia …if you want anything, you know my number.“ He replied.

I nodded and walked out with a smirk on lips. Alejandro Rosario Dawson , be prepared because it's about to go down really hard.