"Dr. Mandy," a resident stammered, jogging to keep up with her stride. "The neuro consult in Room 304-they're asking for your opinion on the synaptic response."

Giselle adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses. The surgical mask covered the lower half of her face, and her hair was pulled back in a severe, tight bun. No one looked at her and saw Giselle Villarreal. They saw Dr. Mandy, the phantom of the neurological world. She wore no jewelry, no makeup, just a plain, functional watch on her wrist that belied the billions in her bank account.

"Increase the dosage of the inhibitor by 2%," she said, her voice crisp. "And check the spinal fluid pressure. You missed the micro-tremors in his left hand."

The resident blinked, awestruck. "Right. Yes. Thank you, Doctor."

Giselle checked the generic medical watch on her wrist. 3:00 PM. She had exactly twenty minutes before she had to pick up Kim from her ballet class.

She turned the corner toward the elevators, her mind already shifting from neurotoxins to dinner plans.

Thud.

Something small and solid slammed into her legs.

Giselle stumbled back, catching her balance. She looked down.

A little boy, no older than five, was clinging to her lab coat. He was dressed in a miniature, tailored navy suit that probably cost more than most people's cars. His dark hair was tousled, and his big, brown eyes were wide with panic.

"Shh!" he hissed, pressing a finger to his lips.

"Young man?" she started, reaching down to detach him.

"Hide me!" he whispered urgently. "The gorillas are coming!"

"Gorillas?"

"Jamin! Master Jamin!" Heavy voices echoed from the main entrance.

Giselle looked up. Three men in black suits were scanning the crowd, looking frantic. Bodyguards.

The boy, Jamin, looked up at her. His eyes... Giselle froze. Those eyes. They were the color of espresso. They were Joseph's eyes.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. This was Joseph's son. Clydie's son.

She should have pushed him away. She should have called the guards. But the terror in his little face triggered something primal in her.

She stepped to the side, flaring her white coat open just enough to shield him between her and a large potted fern. She pulled a chart from under her arm and pretended to read it.

The bodyguards ran past them, their earpieces buzzing.

When they were gone, Jamin peeked out. He let out a dramatic sigh of relief. "That was close. They are so annoying."

He looked up at her, tilting his head. "Wow."

"Wow what?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"You have really pretty eyes," he said solemnly. "You look like the mommy in my dreams."

Giselle's breath hitched. "I think you're confusing me with someone else."

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p'. He grabbed her hand. His fingers were small and warm. "I heard the nurse call you Dr. Mandy. Are you the boss here?"

"I work here," she corrected lightly, her pulse still racing.

"Are you single? I need a girlfriend."

Giselle couldn't help it. A laugh escaped her mask. "I'm a little old for you."

"Not for me," he said, shaking his head. "For my daddy."

Her smile vanished.

"My daddy needs a girlfriend. Or a doctor. Or both." Jamin suddenly clutched his chest and groaned. "Oh no. My heart. I think I'm dying."

Giselle dropped to one knee instantly, her fingers finding his radial pulse. Strong. Regular.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Your heart is fine."

He dropped the act immediately, grinning. "Okay, you caught me. I'm not sick. But my daddy is. He's really sick."

"Where is your mother?" she asked, the words tasting like ash. "Shouldn't she be helping him?"

Jamin's face fell. The playful spark vanished. "I don't like her," he muttered, kicking at the floor tile. "She's mean. She just wants Daddy's money. Daddy doesn't like her either. He kicked her out."

Giselle's brain short-circuited. Kicked her out? But the news... the tabloids painted them as the perfect power couple.

"Dr. Mandy to the ER. Dr. Mandy to the ER," the overhead speaker blared.

Giselle stood up. "I have to go, Jamin. Go find your guards."

"Wait!" He held onto her sleeve. "Please. My daddy... he hurts. He hits his head against the wall because it hurts so bad."

She stopped. That sounded like neurotoxic residue syndrome.

"Please," he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. "Help him."

---

I don't like her.

The sentence echoed in her head, overlapping with the memory of the child she had lost. The child she thought had died in the chaos of her departure six years ago. If her baby had lived, he would be exactly Jamin's age.

She turned back.

Jamin was still there, looking at his shiny black shoes.

"Hey," she said softly.

His head snapped up. Hope flared in those dark eyes.

"You said your dad has headaches?" she asked, crouching down to his eye level again.

"Yeah," Jamin nodded vigorously. "Super bad ones. He locks himself in the dark room. He thinks I don't know, but I hear him groaning."

He reached into his tiny jacket pocket and pulled out a card. It wasn't a business card. It was a black American Express Centurion card.

"I can pay you," he said earnestly, holding it out with two hands. "I have lots of money. I can buy the whole hospital if you want."

Giselle stared at the heavy titanium card. It was absurd. It was heartbreaking.

"Put that away," she said gently, pushing his hand back. "I don't want your money."

"Then what do you want?" he asked, desperate. "I have a limited edition Optimus Prime?"

She smiled behind her mask. "Keep your robot. I just want you to promise not to run away from your guards again."

He nodded solemnly.

"Okay," she sighed. "I'll take a look at his chart. That's it. No promises."

Jamin squealed and threw his arms around her neck. He smelled like baby shampoo and sugar. He planted a wet, sloppy kiss on her masked cheek.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Her heart squeezed. She stood up and took his hand. "Where is he?"

"VIP floor. The penthouse suite," Jamin said, tugging her toward the elevators.

We stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut, enclosing them in a mirrored box.

Giselle looked at their reflection. The tall woman in the white coat, the small boy in the suit. There was something... harmonious about it. The curve of his jaw, the way he stood.

Stop it, she scolded herself. He is Joseph's son. He is the son of the man who ruined you.

But as the numbers on the display ticked upward-2, 3, 4... P-her anxiety wasn't about the past. It was about the immediate future.

She was about to walk into a room with Joseph Villarreal.

She hadn't seen him in six years. She had seen photos in magazines, of course. He looked colder, harder. More ruthless. Rumor had it he was injured during a hostile takeover attempt in Europe-a car bomb that should have killed him.

"Does your dad know you're bringing a doctor?" she asked.

Jamin bit his lip. "Um. Not exactly. He hates doctors. He throws things at them."

"Great," she muttered. "So I'm walking into a lion's den."

"Don't worry," Jamin squeezed her hand. "I'll protect you."

The elevator chimed. The doors opened to the VIP floor.

Two massive bodyguards stood at the end of the hall. They saw Jamin and relaxed visibly, then tensed again when they saw Giselle.

"Master Jamin," one of them said into his wrist mic. "We found him. He's with... a doctor."

Giselle took a deep breath. The air up here smelled different. Expensive. Sanitized.

"Come on," Jamin whispered.

She tightened her grip on his hand. She adjusted her glasses. She was Dr. Mandy. She was the heir to the Hines dynasty. She was not the scared girl in the rain anymore.

She could do this.

---

"Where is he?" Joseph growled, his voice rasping.

Kieran, his assistant, looked nervous. "Security says he's coming up the elevator now, Sir. He... he has a guest."

"A guest?" Joseph squinted, the pain flaring behind his eyes. "I told you, no visitors."

"He says it's a doctor, Sir."

Joseph let out a harsh breath. "Another quack? Get rid of them."

"But Sir-"

"Dean!" Joseph shouted.

Dean Williams, the hospital director, scurried in from the hallway. "Yes, Mr. Villarreal?"

"My son is wandering your hospital soliciting medical advice from strangers. Control your staff."

"I'm sorry, Sir. We're trying to locate-"

Out in the hallway, Jamin was practically dragging Giselle.

"It's right here," he whispered, pointing to the double doors at the end of the hall.

Giselle's palms were sweating inside her latex gloves. She could hear voices inside. Low, angry voices.

Then, a phone rang.

Jamin jumped. It was his smartwatch. He tapped the screen. "Hello?"

He put it on speaker.

"Jamin," a voice boomed from the watch. "Get in here. Now."

Giselle stopped dead.

The sound of that voice. It wasn't just a sound; it was a physical sensation. It vibrated through her bones, waking up ghosts she thought she had buried. It was deeper than she remembered, rougher, laced with pain, but unmistakably him.

Joseph.

"Daddy!" Jamin chirped into the watch. "I found her! I found Dr. Mandy! She's right here!"

Silence on the other end. Then, Joseph's voice, cold and suspicious. "Dr. Mandy? The one who refuses to see anyone?"

"Yes! She's super pretty and she smells nice!"

"Jamin," Joseph warned. "Step away from her. It's a trick."

Giselle felt like she had been slapped. A trick. Even now, without seeing her, he assumed the worst. The years hadn't changed him. He was still the man who saw plots in every shadow.

She looked down at Jamin. He was looking up at her with pure adoration. "Come on, pretty lady."

She pulled her hand away.

Jamin looked confused. "Dr. Mandy?"

Panic, cold and sharp, flooded her system. She couldn't do this. She couldn't face him. Not like this. Not when he thought she was a con artist. Not when Jamin was... his son with someone else.

The reality of Jamin's parentage hit her again. He was proof that Joseph had moved on. Proof that he had a life, a family, without her.

"I can't," she whispered. Her voice trembled.

Inside the room, Joseph heard the hesitation through the speaker. "Who is there?" he demanded. The voice on the other end-that whisper-it sounded like a ghost.

Giselle backed away. Her heel caught the wheel of a cleaning cart parked against the wall.

CRASH.

A metal bucket fell, clattering loudly on the tile floor.

"Who is that?" Joseph's voice turned predatory. "Kieran, open the door!"

"No," Giselle gasped.

She turned around. She didn't walk. She ran.

Her white coat flapped behind her as she sprinted toward the stairwell.

"Wait!" Jamin cried out behind her. "Don't go!"

She didn't look back. She burst through the stairwell door just as the VIP suite doors flew open.

---