CHAPTER 6

GABRIEL:

I felt stunned when that lady bumped into me.

"Easy, Nurse. Watch where you're rushing," I said, my tone cold as ice, assuming she was just another nurse angling for my attention.

But then I caught it—that sweet lemon scent emanating from her. Instead of snapping at her, I stood speechless, watching her dash into the elevator. Just before the doors slid shut, she glanced up and saw my face.

Her jaw dropped as our gazes met. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to speak, but I noticed the glint of tears in her eyes.

The elevator doors closed before I could stop them.

Why did my chest ache at the sight of her red-rimmed eyes? Who was she? She didn't seem like a nurse at my hospital.

"Jett," I called my assistant.

"Yes, boss," he replied, stepping forward. He was twenty-nine, tall, dark-skinned and dressed in black ensembles.

"Find out who that lady is," I ordered.

"Got it," Jett replied.

I knew I shouldn't dwell on her. But it had been years since I'd encountered that sweet lemon scent.

One rainy night, I was attacked by some rival gang and saved by a young woman on the street—a passerby who carried that same lemon fragrance. I never saw her face. She simply stopped my bleeding and vanished, before my men arrived.

I clenched my fist. I'd returned to that area, searching for her, but no one could give me a lead. That was four years ago. Still, no success.

I sighed, maintaining my cold composure as Dr. Nolan Bodhi approached. A middle-aged man in a white coat, black trousers, and polished black shoes, he had brown skin and short brown hair.

"Welcome, Don," he greeted.

I met his gaze. "That's fine. I'm here to discuss the hospital's critical cases."

Dr. Nolan led me to his office. "Don, we have three severe kidney failure cases this year, all requiring urgent transplants. Two families have paid. The third," he shook his head, settling into the chair across from me, "I don't think they can afford the surgery."

"How much does it cost?" I asked. Though the hospital was mine—built barely three years ago as a tribute to that unknown woman who saved my life—I still oversaw its operations.

Thanks to my vast wealth, Milos Hospital ranked highest in the city. While most residents didn't know it, I quietly funded life-saving treatments for those who couldn't pay.

"Ten million, sir," Dr. Nolan said.

"How much have they deposited?"

"Only five hundred thousand."

The office fell silent. "How many weeks did you give them?"

"One week."

"Hmm. If they can't pay, find a donor, match the transplant, and proceed with the surgery. The family will owe the hospital."

I rose to leave, and Dr. Nolan said, "Thank you, Don."

"You don't need to thank me," I replied, waving him off.

I turned and exited his office. As I prepared to leave, Oliver—my third-in-command, a fair-skinned 28-year-old in black attire—stepped forward.

"Boss, do you think that family will ever repay you?"

"Don't worry about that. Saving lives is my duty—a favor I owe that unknown girl," I replied calmly as I stepped into the elevator.

Dr. Nolan called after me, "Boss, would you like to see the patient?"

"No need. Let them handle their part first."

Dr. Nolan nodded and watched the elevator doors close, muffling the outside noise.

I descended to the last floor with my men. The elevator opened, and I strode out to my car.

Jett rushed over. "Boss, I couldn't find any information on that nurse. Most of the staff said they didn't recognize her."

"Mm. Keep watch. I suspect she'll turn up again. Station a few men here in case she returns," I ordered firmly.

"Got it, boss." Jett stepped back as I climbed into my Jeep. Oliver shut my door and took the front seat beside Samuel, my driver. My bodyguards followed in their vehicle. The road was quiet as we pulled out of the hospital and headed home.

I visit the hospital every Friday.

I sighed, gazing out the window at the bustling streets.

My phone rang abruptly, jolting me from my thoughts. I glanced at the caller ID: Fiona Benjamin—my childhood friend.

I didn't want to answer. I'd told Fiona countless times that I didn't fancy her or want her in that way.

She called again when I ignored the first ring.

"What is it?" I answered coldly.

"Help, Gabriel. Please..." Her voice trembled with fear. In the background, I heard tables crashing and bottles shattering.

"Where are you?" I demanded.

"Roland's Club," she gasped.

"Mm. I'll be there." I ended the call and turned to Samuel. "Take me to Roland's Club."

"Got it, boss." He accelerated, and we sped through the city.

Minutes later, the car screeched to a halt. I threw open the door and dashed into the club.

What could be wrong with Fiona? Was this another ploy to drag me to her?

Fiona's father, William served as my father's butler, so we grew up together. I treated her like the sister I never had. But after she graduated as an accountant, she chose to work as a stripper in clubs instead of accepting the position I'd offered at my company.

I'd heard rumors Fiona wanted to marry me, but I'd made it clear—I saw her only as a sibling.

Inside the club, the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood. Chairs and tables lay broken and scattered across the floor.

"Fiona!" I called out, my voice cutting through the dead silence.

A man in a yellow top and black trousers burst from the back, trying to flee. As he rushed toward the exit, I grabbed his shirt and yanked him close, shouting in his face, "Where are the girls?"