Ana followed Auguste down the hallway.

Every agent they passed snapped to attention, their eyes fixed straight ahead.

Auguste pushed open the door to the Pediatric ICU.

A blood-curdling scream tore through the air, vibrating in Ana's teeth.

Leo was thrashing wildly on the hospital bed.

Two nurses were trying to hold his arms down, but the IV in his hand had already ripped loose, dripping blood onto the sheets.

Auguste rushed forward, reaching out to grab his son.

Leo shrieked, batting his father's hands away with pure terror in his eyes.

"Don't touch me!"

The boy was drowning in a severe PTSD flashback.

Ana's medical instincts kicked in, overriding her fear of the men in the room.

She shoved past a nurse and stepped right up to the bed.

She placed both of her hands firmly on Leo's tear-soaked cheeks.

"Leo. Look at me. You are safe." Her voice was steady, warm, and absolute.

Leo's screams hitched in his throat.

He opened his swollen, red eyes and stared at her.

For three seconds, the room was completely still.

Then, Leo's tiny hands shot out, his fingers twisting into the fabric of Ana's white coat.

He buried his face into her chest and sobbed.

"Mommy!"

Ana's entire body went rigid.

Her hands hovered in the air, paralyzed.

She looked up, her eyes wide with shock, straight into Auguste's face.

Auguste's pupils constricted to pinpricks.

His face was a mask of complex, dark emotions.

Ana tried to gently peel the boy's fingers off her coat.

"Sweetheart, I'm just the doctor who gave you blood-"

The moment she pulled back, Leo let out a piercing shriek.

The heart monitor started blaring again.

Leo slammed the back of his head against the pillow, trying to hurt himself.

"Stop!" the ER director yelled. "If his blood pressure spikes, his internal sutures will rupture!"

Auguste grabbed Ana's wrist, his grip bruising.

"Hold him," he ordered through gritted teeth. "Play along."

Ana swallowed the lump in her throat and wrapped her arms tightly around the boy.

She rubbed his back, her voice shaking.

"Mommy is here. I'm not going anywhere."

The magic word worked instantly.

Leo stopped thrashing and wrapped his arms around her neck in a death grip.

The alarms in the room silenced.

Auguste stood at the foot of the bed, watching his son cling to a stranger.

His eyes were dark pools of ink.

Ana shifted her weight, trying to find a comfortable angle.

Leo whimpered in his sleep, his grip tightening.

Ana kicked off her shoes and awkwardly climbed onto the narrow hospital bed.

She leaned back against the headboard, letting Leo rest his full weight on her chest.

His breathing finally slowed into a deep sleep.

After twenty minutes, Ana's left arm went completely numb.

"Can you help me lay him flat?" she whispered to Auguste.

Auguste reached out, his large hand hovering over his son's back.

Leo let out a distressed whine in his sleep.

Auguste's hand froze.

He slowly pulled his arm back and looked at Ana with cold indifference.

"Stay exactly where you are."

Ana glared at him, her jaw tight. "Am I supposed to be a human mattress forever?"

Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, hitting Ana's face.

She opened her eyes, wincing.

Her entire left side was dead, crushed under Leo's weight.

The door swung open.

Auguste marched in, followed by Elwyn and three agents.

He held a clipboard in his hand.

"We are moving out in ten minutes," he announced to the room.

Ana snapped fully awake.

"Are you insane?" she hissed, keeping her voice low so she wouldn't wake the boy. "He can't be moved!"

"The outer perimeter is compromised," Auguste said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Staying here is a death sentence."

"You can't take a patient without the attending physician signing an AMA form!" Ana argued.

Auguste tossed the clipboard onto the foot of the bed.

Ana looked at the paper.

At the bottom was the messy, unmistakable signature of Alistair Cromwell, the hospital's Chief Executive Officer.

Her stomach plummeted.

Two agents stepped forward and carefully lifted Leo off her chest.

The loss of contact woke the boy instantly.

Panic flashed in Leo's eyes, and he reached out, his small fingers grasping for Ana's shirt.

Auguste stepped in, his large hand gently stroking his son's hair.

"Daddy promises Mommy will come find you later," he said softly.

Ana opened her mouth to protest the lie.

Auguste shot her a look so lethal it froze the words in her throat.

Leo sniffled, letting go of her shirt.

The agents placed him into a specialized, enclosed transport wheelchair that hid him entirely from view.

Within seconds, the room was empty.

They left without giving her a phone number, an address, or a backward glance.

Ana sat alone on the wrinkled bedsheets, staring at the dried blood on the floor.

A sudden realization hit her like a physical blow.

Her deal.

The urology exam she forced him to agree to was gone.

"Lying mafia bastard," she muttered, grabbing her hair in frustration.

She rubbed her stiff neck and walked out of the PICU, heading toward the urology department to change her clothes.

Nurses were huddled in the hallways, whispering frantically about the men in black suits who had locked down the building.

Ana kept her head down, turning a corner.

She slammed right into a solid chest.

She looked up and saw Dr. Earnest Hayes, her mentor and department head.

His face was dark with anger.

"Where were you last night, Dr. West? You abandoned your shift. Patients complained."

Ana stammered, her hands sweating. "I was in the ER. I donated blood, and then I got caught up in... a situation."

Hayes pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

His eyes darted down the hallway.

"My office. Now."

Ana followed him, a knot of anxiety twisting in her gut. She needed this fellowship to become a permanent attending.

They walked into his office.

Hayes immediately locked the door and pulled the blinds shut.

The room plunged into dim, oppressive shadows.

Hayes didn't sit behind his desk. He stood right in front of her.

"Do you have any idea who you saved last night?" he asked, his voice slow and deliberate.

Ana bit her lip. "Some Washington mafia boss who pissed off the wrong people?"

Hayes let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

He unlocked his bottom desk drawer and pulled out a plain manila envelope.

He tossed it onto the desk.

"Open it."

Ana reached out, her fingers trembling slightly.

She dumped the contents onto the wood.

A stack of glossy photographs and a printed dossier slid out.

The top photo showed the man from last night, wearing the dark trench coat, walking into the hospital.

"Read the name on the dossier," Hayes commanded.

Ana's eyes scanned the black ink.

Her gaze locked onto the bold letters at the top.

Auguste Raymond.

The name hit her brain like a freight train.

Flashes of the recent inauguration ceremony broadcasted on every TV screen in America flooded her mind.

Her hands started to shake violently.

The photograph slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the floor.

Hayes leaned over the desk, his face inches from hers.

"Yes, Ana. You just spent the night with the President of the United States."

Ana felt the blood drain from her face.

Her stomach he heave, and she clamped a hand over her mouth.

She remembered standing in the clinic, telling the most powerful man in the free world that his prostate was failing.

"Oh my god," she groaned, her legs giving out as she collapsed into a chair. "I'm going to lose my license. They're going to send me to Guantanamo."

"And the boy," Hayes continued, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction, "is Leo Raymond. The First Son."

Cold sweat broke out across Ana's back.

She remembered the boy calling her Mommy.

She remembered the men with guns. They weren't mafia thugs. They were the Secret Service.

She jumped up and started pacing the small office, her breathing shallow and rapid.

Hayes watched her panic, a calculated gleam in his eye.

He walked over and handed her a paper cup of water.

"Calm down. You didn't offend him. You saved his son. You are a hero to the First Family."

Ana took a sip, her teeth chattering against the rim of the cup.

"I don't care. I just want to be a urologist. I want nothing to do with the White House."

Hayes's expression darkened.

"Don't be stupid, Ana. You have a golden ticket."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice.

"Think about your mother's nursing home bills. Think about your three hundred thousand dollars in student debt."

Ana stopped pacing.

The mention of her mother felt like a knife twisting in her ribs. It was her deepest, most painful vulnerability.

"The boy is attached to you," Hayes whispered, his tone hypnotic. "Use that. Get close to the President. You'll never have to worry about money again."

Ana looked at her mentor, a cold prickle of suspicion running down her spine.

"Why do you care so much if I get close to him?"

Hayes pushed his glasses up his nose again.

"Because the department needs funding. If you have the President's ear, we can secure massive federal grants."

It sounded plausible, but the intense hunger in his eyes made Ana's stomach turn.

Before she could answer, a violent pounding shook the office door.

Alistair Cromwell's panicked voice echoed from the hallway.

"Hayes! Open the door!"