The Hero Glitch

It started with a glitch.

Not in the hospital software, not in the elevators, but in him.

Lucien Blackthorn, the man built like a walking cease-and-desist notice, had paused. Mid-stride. Mid-frown. Staring at a screen in the executive hallway, where a video loop played promotional clips for the upcoming Healing Hearts Picnic.

Elaina's voice rang out from the clip: "Hope isn't just medicine. It's presence. It's showing up. Even for one afternoon."

Lucien tilted his head, his brow creasing.

He walked away, but the glitch—subtle, fleeting—remained.

That morning…

Elaina adjusted her coat like armor and stood before the sleek glass monolith of Blackthorn Hospital. Her fingers gripped a clipboard, filled with event logistics, color-coded task lists, and—completely unrelated—doodles of hearts labeled L.B.

She took a breath. "Today, you're not just a sunshine grenade in a white coat. Today, you make Lucien Blackthorn smile. Or blink. Or maybe inhale without glaring."

Her path was set: get him to the picnic. One hour. One appearance. For the kids. For the elders. For something bigger than his brooding schedule.

The volunteers' meeting was in an hour. But first—the impossible mission.

She walked toward the elevators. Stopped.

There it was. The forbidden one. The golden-framed VIP elevator reserved for Blackthorn executives. The one Lucien probably used to teleport directly from hell's boardroom.

Elaina smirked.

"I'm contributing to this hospital's reputation today. That makes me... practically royalty."

She slipped in just as the doors were about to close.

They didn't.

Two more shadows entered.

Lucien Blackthorn.

And Kade.

Perfect.

Lucien stood silent, dressed like he'd been sculpted from obsidian nightmares. No eye contact. Just stillness. Like an expensive vampire statue.

Kade glanced at Elaina and mouthed "Why would you do this to yourself?"

"Fancy elevator," Elaina said, tilting her head. "Does it play ominous theme music on command or just when Lucien's in it?"

Lucien's eyes shifted to her, glacier-cold. "This elevator is for executives."

"I'm not just a volunteer today," she said sweetly. "I'm the hope committee."

Lucien turned back to the mirrored wall. "Hope is overrated."

Kade grinned. "He says that, but he donates more than half the event's budget. Secret softie."

Lucien ignored him. "My presence is not required."

"Neither is your snark," Elaina muttered under her breath.

Kade choked a laugh. Lucien side-eyed him. "You're fired."

"You say this everyday."

Elaina leaned forward. "Speaking of working—this picnic? It's your moment."

Lucien's brows flicked. "You want me to wander a park, shaking hands and pretending to be likable?"

"No, I want you to stand in a shadow and glower while children worship you."

He turned slowly. "Still no."

"But—"

"No."

"You haven't even—"

"No."

Elaina opened her mouth, closed it, then sighed. "Okay. Noted. Rejection Level: Expert."

The elevator dinged.

Lucien exited like a storm cloud on legs.

Kade gave her a thumbs-up. "You survived. Barely."

"I've been through worse. Root canals. Eighth-grade drama. My Math teacher's cooking."

Kade paused. "Wait. What's your Plan B?"

Elaina's smile turned sharp. "You'll see."

---

Top Floor – Blackthorn Industries Executive Suite

Lucien was at his desk, signing documents like each page owed him money.

Kade lounged on the couch, eating grapes like a Renaissance noble with no job security.

The office door burst open.

Elaina.

She marched in like justice with a clipboard.

Lucien sighed audibly. "Don't you have balloons to supervise?"

"I came for your soul. Or at least your schedule."

"No."

"I didn't ask yet!"

Lucien didn't look up. "Doesn't matter."

"I'm officially activating Emergency Plan B," she declared, placing a flyer on his desk.

Lucien gave it a glance. "Children. Seniors. Hot dogs. Happiness. No."

She placed a photo beside it. A little boy with a drawn-on superhero mask and a sign: "I hope Mr. Blackthorn comes to my picnic!"

Lucien's eyes lingered. Just long enough.

Then back to his papers. "Still no."

She pulled out her phone. "Voice message incoming."

> "Hi Mister Lucien," said a tiny voice. "I'm bringing my robot to the picnic. I hope you come too. Mommy says you're a hero."

The silence afterward was loud.

Lucien stared at the screen like it personally betrayed him.

Elaina stepped forward. "You don't have to pose for photos. You don't have to bounce or smile or even speak. But if you show up, that little boy? He'll believe in heroes again."

Lucien's pen stopped moving.

"One hour," he said at last. "No interviews. No balloons."

Elaina gasped. "I'll take it!"

"Still no hugging," he warned.

Kade applauded from the couch. "I think I just witnessed a miracle."

Elaina grinned. "Miracles are my specialty."

---

Saturday – Healing Hearts Picnic

The park was alive—colorful banners, excited chatter, the smell of grilled snacks. Kids darted between booths, elderly patients lounged under shaded canopies, and volunteers tried to contain the chaos.

Elaina darted between crowds, checking on booths and beaming at every face she passed.

But her eyes kept scanning the path.

Where is he?

Just as doubt crept in—

Lucien appeared.

Not in a suit, but a black button-up and slacks. No entourage. No sunglasses. Just him. Like a shadow cutting through sunlight.

Conversations stopped. Heads turned.

Leo, the little boy from the photo, gasped and ran forward—arms wide.

And hugged Lucien's leg.

Lucien stiffened. Froze.

Then—hesitantly, mechanically—patted Leo's head.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Lucien looked vaguely offended by the applause.

From across the field, Elaina beamed so hard it hurt.

Kade sidled up beside her. "You did it."

"I really did."

But as Elaina turned to check the refreshment tables—

A scream pierced the air.

Not a child's laugh. Not playful chaos.

A real scream.

Elaina froze, heart pounding. Her clipboard slipped from her fingers.

Something was wrong.

The picnic had just turned into something else.