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!"

Hayes swiftly swept the photos and the dossier back into the envelope, shoved it into the drawer, and locked it.

He unlocked the door.

Cromwell burst into the room.

The hospital CEO was sweating profusely, his expensive silk tie pulled loose.

He grabbed Ana by the upper arm, his fingers digging into her flesh.

"They're here."

Ana tried to yank her arm away, wincing in pain. "Who is here?"

Cromwell swallowed hard, his eyes wide with fear.

"The White House motorcade. They are parked at the loading dock."

Ana gasped.

Her mind instantly jumped to the worst conclusion. The President had sent his men to arrest her for knowing too much.

"The Oval Office sent direct orders," Cromwell panted. "You are to report to the White House immediately."

Ana backed away, hitting the edge of the desk.

"No. I'm not going."

Hayes stepped up beside her. He gripped her shoulder, his fingers pressing hard into her collarbone.

He leaned close to her ear.

"If you refuse, you bring the wrath of the federal government down on this hospital. And when the board gets angry, budgets get reassessed. I'd hate to see your mother's 'non-essential' experimental treatments cut from the financial aid program to appease them. Do you understand me, Ana?"

Ana bit her lower lip so hard it bled.

The metallic taste of defeat filled her mouth.

She was trapped under the crushing weight of power and poverty.

Cromwell practically dragged her out of the office.

They rushed down the sterile, fluorescent-lit service corridors to the back of the hospital.

Ana pushed through the heavy metal exit doors.

Three massive, black, bulletproof Chevrolet Suburbans idled in the dark alleyway.

Agents in dark suits and sunglasses stood by the vehicles, creating an impenetrable perimeter.

Ana recognized the lead agent standing by the middle SUV.

It was the same man who had pointed a gun at her head in the ER.

He pulled open the heavy rear door of the Suburban and gestured for her to get in.

Ana looked back over her shoulder.

Hayes stood in the doorway, giving her a slow, encouraging nod.

She took a deep breath, her chest tight with dread, and climbed into the back seat.

The door slammed shut behind her, sealing her inside.

The interior of the SUV was pitch black.

Sitting across from her was a woman with sharp features and cold eyes.

"I'm Agent C. J. Stone," she said.

The motorcade accelerated smoothly, merging into the D. C. traffic.

C. J. handed Ana a thick stack of papers.

"Sign this Non-Disclosure Agreement."

Ana squinted in the dark. "I can't read this. I need to see what I'm signing."

C. J. leaned forward, her voice devoid of warmth.

"If you don't sign it right now, this vehicle will reroute to an FBI interrogation facility."

Ana's hands shook as she took the pen and scribbled her name on the last page.

C. J. snatched the papers back.

She pulled out a metal detector wand and ran it aggressively over Ana's body, followed by a harsh, invasive pat-down.

Ana's cheeks burned with humiliation, but she kept her mouth shut.

She looked out the tinted window.

The illuminated obelisk of the Washington Monument flashed by.

The motorcade turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue.

The imposing white columns of the White House loomed in the night.

The gates opened, and the vehicles pulled up to the West Wing.

Ana's heart hammered against her ribs.