Chapter 1 - The Diagnosis and The Mysterious Visitor
The waiting room of St. Brigid Medical Center smelled faintly of industrial antiseptic and cold tea. Miles sat on a low vinyl chair, a twin sleeping fitfully on each of his thighs. His suit jacket was still crumpled under Marina’s head somewhere in the treatment ward, leaving him in his shirt sleeves, cold and exposed.
Every time the double doors swung open, his head snapped up.
After two agonizing hours, a middle-aged doctor in green scrubs stepped out, scanning the waiting area until her eyes locked onto Miles. "Family of Marina Vance?"
Miles carefully shifted the boys onto the vinyl bench, draping his woolen overcoat over their shoulders, and walked briskly over. "I'm her employer. Miles Kincaid. How is she?"
"She’s stable, Mr. Kincaid, but severe malnutrition and physical exhaustion caused a syncopal episode—she fainted because her body simply shut down," the doctor explained, her tone laced with concern. "Her blood tests show dangerously low iron and high stress hormones. But what worries me more are the deep, fading contusions along her arms and wrists. They don't look like accidental injuries."
Miles felt a cold knot tighten in his chest. Brunises? He had assumed Marina was just a tired young woman trying to make ends meet. "Was she assaulted?"
"She hasn't regained full consciousness yet to explain," the doctor replied softly. "We're giving her IV fluids and vitamins. She needs rest, proper nutrition, and peace."
"She’ll have all of it," Miles said immediately, his corporate authority instinctively taking over. "Move her to a private suite. Put it on my card."
As the doctor walked away to arrange the transfer, Miles’ phone vibrated in his pocket. It was his private security detail, Arthur, whom he had called earlier to secure his estate's security camera footage.
"Boss," Arthur’s voice was tense. "I reviewed the gate camera footage from two hours ago. Before Ms. Vance collapsed, a black SUV with tinted windows pulled up to your driveway. A man got out, grabbed her arm, and argued with her for about three minutes. She pulled away, threw something over the hedge, and then he drove off fast. That’s when she collapsed."
"Find out who owns that SUV," Miles commanded, his eyes darkening. "And send a team to guard her hospital room door right now."
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Miles walked back to his boys, gently stroking Lucas’ hair. As he looked out the hospital window into the rain-slicked city streets, he realized Marina wasn't just a quiet housekeeper fleeing a tough life. She was hiding from someone—someone dangerous enough to pull up to the gates of a billionaire.
Suddenly, a tall, impeccably dressed young man walked past the waiting room, holding a bouquet of white lilies. He didn't check in at the front desk; he walked directly toward the private room hall with a look of quiet, calculated satisfaction. Miles watched him closely, noticing a subtle, expensive gold ring on his pinky finger—engraved with a family crest that looked eerily familiar.
