Valeria's pov
The drive back was oppressively quiet, almost insane. Alaric drove like a maniac, his grips tight on the steering.
He's acting like he saw a ghost. I command you to open your mind to me.
Alaric pulled up to a high-end luxury tech store. Minutes later, he dropped a heavy bag in my lap. It was the most expensive tablet on the market, with lifetime subscriptions to every medical research database I'd ever craved.
"What's this? Hush money for the threat you just made?" I asked.
"It's a tool. If you're going to be my secretary and a wanna-be doctor, stop using paper like a peasant." Alaric's look was icy. "And Valeria? You saw a pile of rusted iron and nothing else."
I nodded. I knew how to play the part of the blind witness.
By the time I reached my small apartment, the tension was still clinging to my skin. Textbooks and clothes were scattered everywhere.
Okay, yeah. I am a messy bitch but it's not like my life is organised though.
I grabbed a screwdriver. I took apart the gifted medical kit, checking the lining, the vials, the case.
No micro-chip trackers. No bugs.
All good, then.
The next morning, I wasn't at the hospital as a doctor. I was there as a shadow.
I stood at the edge of the Ward C hallway, wearing an oversized hoodie and glasses, holding a clipboard like a lost student. I was there to watch the rounds. To see the cases the textbooks couldn't teach.
Halfway through the ward, a shadow fell over me.
"Our little dropout looks… exhausted."
I didn't even look up from my notes. "The lighting in this hallway is terrible, Seraphina. It's bad for the skin. You should know."
Seraphina stepped into my line of sight, eyes sharp with arrogance. "I suppose balancing a failed career and late nights with my baby can be quite draining. Is this your new hobby? Stalking the halls of a life you couldn't keep?"
"I'm observing," I said, my voice flat.
" Someone call security," Seraphina scoffed, turning to the passing Chief Surgeon. "This girl is playing dress-up in a ward she doesn't belong in."
Before the Surgeon could speak, a patient in the wing started crashing.
The monitors shrieked. Vitals plummeted. The senior residents froze.
"BP dropping—!"
I shoved past Seraphina.
I didn't care about the hoodie or the dropout label anymore.
"What was he given?"
"Antibiotics… and—"
"Names. Now."
"Get away from him!" Seraphina hissed. "You're not a doctor!"
"Seraphina, if you don't shut up and let me work, the only real doctor you'll need is a plastic surgeon," I snapped.
I snatched the chart, flipping fast. "Stop that infusion. Now. You're crashing him."
No one moved.
"Are you trying to kill him? It's a drug interaction. Move!"
I yanked the IV free myself, swapping in the compatible fluid. "Normal saline. Bolus. Move!"
Now they moved.
The beeps stabilized. The frantic rhythm slowed into a steady pulse. I stepped back, breathing hard, pulling my hoodie low again.
The Chief Surgeon gave a single, solemn nod. "Good catch, kid."
"In your face, bitch," I swallowed the words, catching the sight of Seraphina's flushed, humiliated face.
When I reached the office, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving only exhaustion. I removed my heels and tiptoed inside, trying to ensure Alaric didn't catch me coming to work late.
Not even a minute later—
"You're late, Secretary."
Speak of the devil.
"I wasn't. You were just too early," I replied, my thumb sliding across my screen with a dismissive flick.
Alaric's eyes narrowed as he leaned against the edge of my desk. "Is that so? Because I heard a rumor someone saved a life at the hospital this morning. Posing as a student."
He didn't wait for an excuse. He slid a black card across the mahogany.
Silver foil with the name, Zenith Solstice.
"I need you there. As my medical consultant."
I let out a dry, skeptical laugh. "A med dropout at a gala? If you're planning on choking on the hors d'oeuvres, boss, I suggest you take your fiancé instead. I'm sure she'd love the attention."
"The man handling the purchase of the industrial site will be there," Alaric stated.
"I don't have a choice, so I don't get why you're asking," I said.
"No, you don't," he muttered, turning to leave.
I was in the executive suite, surrounded by stylists. They were dragging me like a doll.
"Sit straight, darling. Your posture is a mess," the lead stylist said.
"I've been on my feet since 5 AM," I snapped.
"Doesn't matter. You are representing Von Enterprise tonight." She yanked my hair back.
"Ouch."
"Beauty is pain. And you need to look like a diamond tonight." She applied a layer of blood-red lipstick. "Mr. Alaric requested this shade."
"Of course he did," I muttered.
The woman looked at me through the mirror. "You have the hands of someone who uses them for more than just typing, Miss."
I pulled my hand back. "Just do the nails."
"Blood red it is."
Finally, the room cleared. I stood before the mirror, fumbling with the back of the black dress.
"Seriously… who designs something like this…"
The door opened. Alaric stepped in. Before I could turn, his cold fingers grazed my spine. I sucked in a breath.
The zipper went up in one smooth, controlled pull. I lifted my eyes, finding his already on me in the reflection.
"Why is this dress so uncomfortable?" I whispered.
"Because at that party, if you don't look like a predator, you're the prey." His hand lingered on my bare back.
"Your hands are shaking." I asked, my voice almost steady. "Are you cold or scared?"
"Neither. I'm restraining myself." He leaned in closer, his breath on my neck. "One more thing, Valeria."
"What?"
"Don't talk to anyone. Especially not Marcus Sterling."
"Is that an order?"
"It's a survival tip." He let go of the zipper and walked to the door. "The car is downstairs. Don't be late again."