The Debt He Can't Collect

I'm staring at the man who destroyed my family.

He's unconscious. Bleeding out on my table. And for exactly three seconds, I consider letting him die.

The thought is there before I can stop it. One slip of the scalpel. One overlooked bleeder. No one would question it. Not after a fourteen-hour shift. Not with a trauma this severe.

My hands hover over his chest.

The monitor screams. His pressure is dropping.

"Dr. Lawson?" Sarah's voice cuts through my paralysis. "We need to move."

Right. I'm a doctor. I took an oath.

Even monsters deserve to live.

My hands move on instinct. Clamp. Suture. Stop the bleeding. Years of training override the hatred burning in my chest.

But my mind is screaming.

This is Damien Cross. The billionaire who crushed my father's company five years ago. Who turned my family into nothing. Who's the reason my father drinks himself to sleep and my sister dropped out of college.

And I'm saving his life.

"Pressure stabilizing," Sarah calls out.

"Good. Get me another unit of O-negative." I work faster. Find the bleeder. Tie it off. My movements are precise despite the chaos in my head.

This is what I do. I save lives. I don't get to choose which ones.

Even when every cell in my body wants to walk away.

"You're doing great, Dr. Lawson." Sarah hands me the suture. "This guy's lucky you were on tonight."

Lucky. Right.

I finish closing. Step back. Strip off my gloves.

Damien Cross's chest rises and falls. Steady. Stable.

Alive.

Because of me.

"Get him to recovery," I tell Sarah. "Monitor his vitals every fifteen minutes. Call me if anything changes."

She nods. Efficient as always.

I walk out of the OR. My legs feel like lead.

The hallway is empty. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead. It's almost midnight. The witching hour in hospitals. When everything feels surreal.

I lean against the wall. Close my eyes.

My phone buzzes. I pull it out with shaking hands.

Seventeen missed calls. All from the same collection agency.

A text from Lily: Em, they're threatening to cancel my enrollment. I need the tuition payment by Monday. I'm so sorry.

Another text from the treatment facility: James missed his counseling session again. Please call.

I slide down the wall. Sit on the cold floor. Let my head fall back.

For just one moment, I let myself crack.

I'm twenty-nine years old. I work seventy hours a week. I haven't slept more than four hours in six months. I eat whatever I can grab between patients. My student loans are crushing me. My father's medical bills are drowning me. My sister's future depends on money I don't have.

And I just saved the life of the man who started all of this.

The universe has a sick sense of humor.

"Dr. Lawson?"

I look up.

A man in an expensive suit stands in the hallway. Mid-thirties. Designer watch. The kind of confident that comes from money.

I stand. Wipe my face. Become professional again.

"Yes?"

"I'm Marcus Chen. Mr. Cross's assistant." He extends his hand. "Thank you for saving his life."

I don't take his hand. "Just doing my job."

"You did more than that." Marcus steps closer. "The paramedics said he wouldn't make it. You proved them wrong."

"He's stable. Critical but stable. If you'll excuse me—"

"Wait." Marcus pulls out his phone. "I need to show you something. Please."

Something in his voice stops me.

He turns the phone toward me. Shows me a photo.

My breath catches.

It's me. Leaving the hospital. Three months ago based on my hair length. The photo is grainy. Taken from a distance.

Like surveillance.

"What is this?" My voice is cold.

Marcus swipes to another photo. Me at the grocery store. Another one of me visiting my father's apartment.

My blood runs cold.

"Where did you get these?"

"Mr. Cross's office." Marcus's voice is careful. "I found them yesterday. I don't know why he has them. I was hoping you could tell me."

I stare at the images. My hands clench into fists.

"I've never met Damien Cross in my life." Each word is sharp. "But I know what he did to my family. Five years ago, Cross Industries bought Lawson Medical Solutions. My father's company. The hostile takeover destroyed everything. My father. My mother's marriage. My family's future."

Understanding flashes across Marcus's face. "Your father was James Lawson."

"Yes. And your boss has been stalking me. Why?"

"I don't know." Marcus looks genuinely confused. "But I need your help figuring it out."

"Help?" I laugh. It sounds bitter. "You want me to help the man who ruined my family? The man who's been watching me like I'm some kind of project?"

"I'm offering two hundred thousand dollars."

The number hits like a physical blow.

Two hundred thousand dollars.

My father's medical debt. Lily's tuition. The foreclosure payment on our childhood home.

Everything. Solved. In one number.

"For what?" I keep my voice steady.

"Mr. Cross has amnesia. From the accident. He's going to wake up confused, disoriented. But there's a crucial merger vote in seventy-two hours. If the board discovers he's impaired, they'll remove him as CEO."

"What does this have to do with me?"

Marcus swipes to another photo. A close-up of me. Professional headshot quality.

"When he briefly woke in the ambulance, he was holding this photo. The paramedics asked if you were his girlfriend. I said yes. He believed me. His brain filled in details I didn't give."

My stomach drops. "You told him I'm his girlfriend."

"And when he wakes up, he'll believe it. Because amnesia does that. Creates false memories. Fills gaps with logic." Marcus meets my eyes. "I need you to play along. Three days. One merger vote. Then you walk away with two hundred thousand dollars."

"You want me to lie to a man with a traumatic brain injury."

"I want to save my boss's company. And I'm willing to pay you what you're worth." He glances at my phone. "What your family needs."

The collection agency calls. Lily's tuition. My father's rehab.

Two hundred thousand dollars.

I should say no. Should walk away from this insanity.

But I think about Lily's text. The desperation in those words.

I think about my father, drowning in guilt and alcohol.

I think about myself, working three jobs just to survive.

"I need to think about it."

"Take an hour." Marcus hands me a business card. "But Dr. Lawson? Someone tried to kill Damien tonight. The brake lines on his car were cut. This wasn't an accident."

My blood runs cold. "What?"

"If someone wants him dead, and he's been watching you..." Marcus doesn't finish.

He doesn't have to.

If someone wants Damien Cross dead, and Damien's been stalking me, then I'm not safe either.

I look at the card in my hand. Look back at the recovery room where Damien Cross is sleeping.

The man who destroyed my family.

The man I just saved.

The man who's been watching me for reasons I don't understand.

"One hour," Marcus says. "Then I need your answer."

He walks away.

I stand in the empty hallway. Alone.

Holding a business card worth two hundred thousand dollars.

And the growing certainty that saying yes will change everything.

The question is: Am I brave enough to find out why?

My phone buzzes again.

Unknown number.

I open it.

A photo of my father. Outside his facility. Smoking. Unaware he's being photographed.

The message below is simple: Tick tock, Dr. Lawson. Choose wisely.

My hands shake.

This isn't about a merger.

This is about something much bigger.

And I just became part of it whether I want to or not.