Chapter 2

I stare at the photo of my father until my vision blurs.

Someone is watching him. Right now. While I stand in this hallway deciding whether to lie to a billionaire for money.

This isn't a coincidence.

I delete the message. The photo disappears but my hands keep shaking.

Think, Emma. Think like a doctor. Assess the situation. Diagnose the problem. Treat accordingly.

Problem: Someone wants me to say yes to Marcus's offer.

Question: Why?

My phone rings. I nearly drop it.

Lily.

I answer. "Hey."

"Em, I'm sorry about the tuition thing. I shouldn't have texted you at work. I know you're doing everything you can." Her voice is small. Young. She's twenty-one but sounds sixteen when she's scared.

"Don't apologize." I close my eyes. "I'll figure it out. I always do."

"You shouldn't have to." She pauses. "Maybe I should take a semester off. Work. Save up."

"Absolutely not. You're going to finish. You're going to be brilliant. This is just a temporary problem."

Temporary. Right. Like the past five years have been temporary.

"I love you, Em."

"Love you too. Get some sleep."

I hang up. Lean against the wall.

Two hundred thousand dollars would change everything.

But nothing is free. Especially not that kind of money.

I head toward the break room. Need coffee. Need to think without Marcus Chen's expensive watch and desperate eyes clouding my judgment.

The break room is empty. I pour coffee that tastes like it's been sitting since dinner shift. Drink it anyway.

Sarah walks in. "You okay, Dr. Lawson? That was intense."

"I'm fine."

She doesn't believe me. We've worked together too long. "The guy you saved. He's stable. Vitals are strong. You did good work."

"Thanks."

She studies me. "You know him, don't you? I saw your face when you recognized him."

I don't answer. Sarah is perceptive. One of the best nurses I know. She reads people the way I read bodies.

"Whatever history you have, you saved his life anyway." She touches my shoulder. "That's who you are. Remember that when the doubt creeps in."

She leaves. I'm alone with terrible coffee and impossible choices.

My phone buzzes. Marcus.

*Forty-five minutes. Recovery Room 3 when you're ready.*

I should go home. Sleep. Deal with this when my brain isn't running on caffeine and adrenaline.

Instead, I head toward Recovery Room 3.

The hallway is quiet. Most patients are asleep. Night shift is the in-between time. Not quite yesterday, not yet tomorrow.

I stop outside Damien's room. Through the small window, I see him.

Unconscious still. Monitors beeping steadily. IV dripping. Chest rising and falling.

He looks vulnerable. Human.

Not like the corporate shark who destroyed my father's company.

Not like the man who's been watching me without my knowledge.

Just a patient. Injured. Healing.

I push open the door. Step inside.

The room smells like antiseptic and clean sheets. Soft lighting. Medical equipment humming.

I check his chart. Vitals are good. Healing as expected. No complications.

My hand hovers over the call button to summon Marcus.

This is the moment. Say yes or walk away.

Two hundred thousand dollars. Three days of pretending.

Or walk away and let my family keep drowning.

"You look familiar."

I spin around.

Damien's eyes are open. Unfocused but aware. His voice is rough from intubation.

"I'm Dr. Lawson. I performed your surgery." I slip into professional mode. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a truck." He tries to smile. Winces. "Did I?"

"Car accident. You're lucky to be alive."

He studies my face. His eyes are dark gray. Sharp despite the pain medication.

"Emma." He says my name like he's testing it.

I freeze. "How do you know my name?"

"Your badge." He nods toward my ID. "And something else. Can't remember what."

My heart races fast. "You should rest. You've been through significant trauma."

"Wait." His hand moves slightly. Like he wants to reach for me but can't. "Don't go. Please."

"I'm not going anywhere. Just stepping outside to let your assistant know you're awake."

"Marcus?" Damien's brow furrows. "He's here?"

"He's been waiting. Very concerned about you."

"Of course he is. The merger." Damien closes his eyes. "What day is it?"

"Friday. Early morning. Almost 1 AM."

"The vote is Monday." He opens his eyes again. Looks directly at me. "I need to be functional by Monday."

"You need to heal. The merger can wait."

"No. It can't." His intensity cuts through the medication haze. "Two years of work. Hundreds of jobs. I can't let it fall apart because of bad brakes."

"Bad brakes?" I keep my voice neutral.

"Marcus said someone cut them. Police are investigating." He watches my reaction. "Does that surprise you? That someone wants me dead?"

"I don't know you well enough to be surprised by anything."

"But you know me." It's not a question. "I can see it in your eyes. You know exactly who I am. And you hate me for it."

The observation is too accurate. Too perceptive for someone who just woke from surgery.

"I should get Marcus."

"Emma." He says my name again. Different this time. Softer. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I don't know yet. But something tells me I owe you an apology. Multiple apologies." His eyes search mine. "What did I do to you?"

The question is so unexpected, so vulnerable, that I can't answer.

I walk to the door. Open it. Marcus is in the hallway.

"He's awake."

Marcus exhales. Relief floods his face. "Thank god. Did he—"

"He doesn't remember much. But he knows something's wrong. He's sharp, even medicated." I lower my voice. "You're sure this will work? The amnesia story?"

"His memories are fragmented. The neurologist confirmed it. He'll fill in gaps with logic and suggestion." Marcus meets my eyes. "If we tell him you're his girlfriend, he'll believe it. Because it's the simplest explanation for why you're here. Why you care."

"I don't care."

"Then you're a better actress than I thought." Marcus glances toward the room. "Because he already looks at you like you matter. And you haven't even agreed yet."

"That's the medication."

"Is it?" Marcus pulls out his phone again. Shows me a different photo.

This one is older. Me, five years ago. Walking out of my father's office building. Younger. Hair longer. Smiling at something on my phone.

"This was taken three weeks before the acquisition. Before your father's company fell." Marcus swipes to another photo. Same day. Damien Cross in the background. Watching me walk away.

My breath catches.

"He's been watching you for five years, Emma. Long before he had any business reason to. And I need to know why. Don't you?"

I stare at the photos. Young Emma, unaware. Damien Cross, focused entirely on her.

"Why didn't you show me this before?"

"Because before, I was asking you to play a role for money." Marcus's voice is quiet. "Now I'm asking you to help me understand why my boss has been obsessed with you since the day he destroyed your family. And why someone is threatening you both."

I look through the window. Damien is watching the door. Waiting for me to come back.

A stranger who knows my name.

A man who's been watching me for five years.

The person who ruined everything.

And maybe the only person who knows why my father is being photographed. Why I'm getting threats. Why any of this is happening.

"Three days," I hear myself say. "Full access to his files. Everything about my father's company. Everything about why he's been watching me."

"And the money?"

"Keep it. I don't want his money." I meet Marcus's eyes. "I want the truth. And if playing his girlfriend for seventy-two hours gets me that, then I'll do it."

Marcus looks surprised. "You're sure?"

"No. But I'm doing it anyway."

I push open the door. Walk back into Damien's room.

He turns toward me. Something in his expression shifts. Softens.

"You came back."

"I'm your doctor. It's my job to check on you."

"Is that all you are?" His eyes hold mine. "My doctor?"

This is it. The moment I commit to the lie.

I think about the photos. Five years of surveillance. My father's company destroyed. Someone threatening us both.

The truth is buried somewhere in Damien Cross's mind.

And I'm going to find it.

"No," I say quietly. "That's not all I am."

His hand finds mine. Holds it gently.

"Good," he whispers. "Because I don't know why, but losing you feels like the worst thing that could happen. Worse than the accident. Worse than the pain. Just... worse."

My throat tightens.

He doesn't know me. Doesn't remember me. But his body, his instincts, his heart recognize something.

Five years of watching from a distance.

What was he looking for?

What did he see?

"Rest," I tell him. "We'll talk in the morning."

"Promise you'll be here?"

"I promise."

His eyes close. His hand loosens but doesn't let go.

I stand there. Holding the hand of my family's destroyer.

And wondering if I just made the biggest mistake of my life.

Or if I'm finally about to uncover the truth behind five years of lies.

---