After a brutal 24-hour hospital shift, I climbed into the wrong black SUV, fell asleep beside a complete stranger, and woke to find the most intimidating man I had ever seen watching me. Three days later, I walked into a patient’s room—and nearly dropped her chart when that same man stepped through the door.

"Bianca," Tristan said, stepping toward her. He reached out, but stopped himself, his hand hovering in the air between them. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Bianca looked at him, her heart still racing. "Who was he, Tristan?"

"A desperate man," Tristan replied darkly. "A former business partner who made a dangerous mistake. He is not a threat to you, I promise. My security will—"

"I don't want security, Tristan!" Bianca interrupted, her voice shaking. "I am a nurse. I live a quiet, simple life. I can't be surrounded by bodyguards and angry men screaming threats in restaurants. This... this is too much."

Tristan’s face tightened, a flash of genuine pain crossing his features before he masked it with his usual stoic expression. "I understand. I should have known better than to drag you into my chaos."

He walked her back to the SUV in silence. The ride home to Astoria was agonizingly quiet. When they pulled up to her modest apartment building, Tristan turned to her.

"I won't bother you again, Bianca," he said softly, his voice heavy with regret. "But please, take this."

He handed her a small, black card with his personal number embossed in gold. "If you are ever in trouble, if you ever need anything, call me. No matter what."

Bianca took the card, her fingers brushing his. "Thank you, Tristan. For the dinner. And... for protecting me."

She got out of the car and walked up to her apartment, feeling a profound sense of emptiness. She had made the right choice. She couldn't be part of his dangerous world. But as she lay in her bed that night, the scent of cedar and amber still lingering on her clothes, she felt more alone than she ever had before.

Three days passed. Bianca threw herself into her work at St. Catherine’s. She took extra shifts, barely slept, and tried to ignore the empty space at the nurse's station where the white gardenias used to arrive.

Eleanor Bellamy was recovering rapidly, her sharp wit keeping the entire ward entertained. She noticed Bianca’s quiet, melancholy demeanor.

"He's an idiot, isn't he?" Eleanor asked one afternoon as Bianca was checking her surgical incision.

Bianca sighed. "Eleanor, please."

"He inherits his father's stubbornness," Eleanor continued, ignoring the protest. "Tristan thinks that to protect the people he loves, he has to keep them at a distance. He thinks he is a plague. But he isn't. He is just a man who has never been allowed to be vulnerable."

"He has enemies, Eleanor," Bianca said quietly. "People who want to hurt him. I can't live like that."

"We all have enemies, Bianca. But we also have shields," Eleanor said, taking Bianca's hand. "And Tristan would lay down his life to be yours."

Before Bianca could respond, her pager beeped frantically. Code Blue, Room 310.

"I have to go," Bianca said, squeezing Eleanor’s hand.

She ran down the hallway. For the next four hours, the hospital was a battleground. An influx of trauma patients from a multi-car pileup on the FDR Drive flooded the ER and ICU. Bianca was pushed to her absolute limits, administering medication, assisting doctors, and comforting grieving families.

By midnight, she was running on pure adrenaline and sheer willpower. She was walking down the hallway of the intensive care unit when she saw a group of men in dark suits standing near the elevator.

Her heart stopped. It was Tristan's security detail.

Dominic was there, speaking urgently to a doctor. His face was pale, his usual calm demeanor gone.

Bianca rushed forward. "Dominic? What's going on? Is it Eleanor?"

Dominic turned, his eyes widening in surprise. "Miss Mendes. No, Mrs. Bellamy is fine. It’s... it's Mr. Bellamy."

Bianca felt the world tilt beneath her feet. "What happened to Tristan?"

"An ambush," Dominic said, his voice tight. "Julian's associates. They targeted his car on his way back from a meeting in New Jersey. They had heavy firearms. Tristan... he took a bullet trying to shield his driver."

Bianca’s medical training vanished, replaced by a wave of cold, paralyzing terror. "Where is he?"