Chapter 5 - The Prescription for Danger
The following morning at Metro General was a blur of fluorescent lights, sterile smells, and frantic page calls.
*Dr. Vance to Trauma 2. Dr. Vance to Trauma 2.*
Mia scrubbed her hands at the sink, her mind replaying every second of the previous night like a looped film reel. The club. The music. The man with the slate-grey eyes and the terrifying authority who had moved like a panther to protect her.
She reached into the pocket of her white lab coat and pulled out the plain black card. The handwritten number stared back at her. No name. No logo. Just ten digits written in bold, confident ink.
"Penny for your thoughts, Mia," Dr. Sarah Jenkins said, walking up beside her at the scrub station, leaning against the wall. "You look like you haven't slept in a week. And your husband called the front desk again."
Mia’s hands froze mid-motion. The water running over her knuckles suddenly felt freezing.
"What did David want?" Mia asked quietly.
"He wants to finalize the paperwork," Sarah said gently, turning off her water tap and grabbing a paper towel. "He said his lawyer sent the final settlement agreement to your apartment. Mia, I know it hurts, but... maybe it's time to sign it. You can't keep living like a prisoner in your own life."
Mia didn't answer. She couldn't.
That evening, after a grueling fourteen-hour shift, Mia walked out into the hospital parking garage. The air was crisp and smelled of autumn leaves and exhaust fumes. She unlocked her sedan, opened the door, and froze.
Sitting on the passenger seat was a single, long-stemmed black rose, wrapped in dark paper, with a small white envelope tucked beneath the ribbon.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. The parking garage was secure. Security cameras covered every angle. How had someone placed this inside her locked car?
With trembling fingers, Mia opened the envelope. Inside was a single sentence written in the exact same confident handwriting:
*A surgeon should never let fear dictate her incisions.*
She looked around the empty garage, the shadows stretching long and menacing beneath the concrete pillars. Instead of running, Mia pulled out her phone, stared at the plain black card from The Vault, and dialed the ten-digit number.
It rang once.
May you like
"I knew you'd call," a deep, velvet voice answered on the other end.
---
