Chapter 2 - The Hospital Corridors
St. Jude’s Private Hospital was a stark contrast to the burning manor. It was a world of sterile white tiles, the sharp scent of antiseptic, and the rhythmic, artificial ticking of monitors. Elena lay in a minor recovery ward, her hands wrapped in thick white gauze, her lungs treated for smoke inhalation. She felt profoundly out of place among the luxury linens provided for Ashford patients.
The peace did not last. The door to her room swung open with an aggressive click, admitting Lady Eleanor Ashford. The matriarch looked as though she had merely attended a slightly dusty garden party rather than survived a fatal fire. Her pearls were perfectly in place.
"Miss Marsh," Eleanor said, her voice dropping like ice cubes into a glass. She didn't sit. "I understand we owe you a debt of gratitude for assisting my son. The Ashford family does not leave its debts unpaid. Name your price. A lump sum, a house in the countryside, a glowing recommendation for your next position."
Elena looked at her wrapped hands. "I don't want your money, Lady Eleanor. I went back for him because he is a human being, and everyone else left him to burn."
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits. "Let us be entirely clear, girl. You are a maid. You are the girl who sweeps the hearth. My son is currently recovering from a fractured tibia and severe smoke inhalation, but when he wakes fully, he will return to his world. A world that includes Victoria Vance, his fiancée, and a merger that secures three thousand jobs. Do not mistake a moment of adrenaline-fueled bravery for a ticket into a life you do not belong in."
Before Elena could answer, a commotion echoed from the hallway. Despite the protests of two private doctors and a nurse, Nathaniel appeared in the doorway. He was in a hospital gown, a pair of crutches supporting his weight, his face pale but his expression fierce.
"That's enough, Mother," Nathaniel barked, his voice still raspy from the smoke.
"Nathaniel, you should be resting—"
"Out," he commanded, not looking at his mother, his gaze locked entirely on Elena. "Everyone out."
When the room cleared, the heavy silence returned, the same silence that used to fill the empty rooms of Ashford Manor. Nathaniel awkwardly maneuvered his crutches to sit on the edge of Elena’s bed. He looked down at her bandaged hands, his jaw tightening.
"They told me you could have run," he whispered. "Victoria was already in her limousine by the time the second alarm sounded."
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"I couldn't leave you," Elena said simply.
He placed his hand over hers—carefully, avoiding the burns. "I’ve spent my whole life surrounded by people who would jump into a fire for my wallet, Elena. You’re the only one who jumped in for me."
