ISLA
Another day, another morning filled with work.
I finally managed to breathe when it was already lunchtime.
Riley had called earlier, saying she’d be waiting at a nearby restaurant so we could have lunch together.
I was already walking out of the office when I received a call from the last person I wanted to talk to.
The moment I pressed the answer button, my father’s clipped voice came through.
“You unfilial child!
Why do you keep ignoring my calls?” he scolded.
“I’m not idle at work.
Should I really prioritize your unimportant calls over my patients?” I shot back in a mocking tone.
His anger flared at my retort.
“Enough of this nonsense.
End that damned agreement with the Montgomerys and come home at once—or your grandmother will be gone for good!”
The line went dead before I could even breathe a reply.
I stared at my phone, my grip tightening until my knuckles turned white.
My grandmother—my only comfort in this world—was now his weapon again.
Once, they forced me into this situation, saying if I didn’t sign the contract, he would send Grandma away.
Now that I had endured it, they wanted me gone so Liana could slide into my place.
A bitter laugh slipped past my lips, though it burned in my throat.
Why am I so unlucky to have these kinds of parents?
Leave Alistair, huh?
Never.
Even if they kneeled in front of me, they wouldn’t get what they wanted!
They underestimated me if they thought I’d bend again.
They started this, but I was going to finish it.
I pulled my coat tighter around me as I stepped out of the hospital’s exit.
But I was blocked again by the same couple who had attacked me last day, with the accusations of malpractice.
This time, they weren’t alone.
A group had gathered around them—some were hospital visitors, some strangers, all drawn to the scent of their sick drama.
“There she is!” Mrs.
Carter screeched, pointing a finger at me.
A wave of hostility surged forward.
“Murderer!”
”You shouldn’t be a doctor!”
”You put the poor kid’s blood on your hands!”
After their accusing words, objects started flying my way.
A rotten egg smashed near my shoes, the stench rising instantly.
Followed by plastic cups, still half-full of coffee, bounced off my body—one after another.
But through it all, I held my head high, forcing myself to stand still, with my gaze resolute.
I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.
“She killed our son!” Mr.
Carter shouted, his voice breaking with anger and grief.
“And now she walks free like nothing happened! The source of this chapter is g.com.
Where’s the justice?”
Gasps and angry murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Phones were raised, cameras flashing, recording every second of the twisted scene.
My insides burned with rage, but I steadied my voice.
“I did not commit malpractice.
Everything was done according to protocol—”
”Liar!” Mrs.
Carter cut me off, her eyes blazing.
“Three million dollars, that’s what it’ll take.
Pay us, or we’ll see you stripped of your license!”
The crowd erupted again—some shouting for compensation, others demanding my resignation.
I swallowed hard.
I wouldn’t break here, in front of them.
No.
Then something heavy and solid came hurtling through the air.
I barely registered it before a tall figure stepped in front of me, blocking my view.
The object thudded against him instead of me, clattering to the ground.
The jeers quieted in an instant, confusion breaking through the mob.
I blinked, frozen, then lifted my gaze.
And my jaw nearly dropped.
Alistair stood there like a solid wall, broad shoulders squared, his expression dark—like a super hurricane was about to strike.
His mere presence silenced the chaotic scene.
The crowd shifted, suddenly unsure.
Before I could speak, he bent and swept me into his arms effortlessly.
My breath caught, too stunned to resist.
Loud gasps rippled through the onlookers.
Whispers spread quickly.
Everyone knew who he was—Alistair Montgomery, the cold and powerful CEO.
And here he was, carrying me against his chest, as though nothing else in the world existed.
His men moved in swiftly, scattering the mob and seizing control of the situation.
Alistair never spoke a word.
His jaw was clenched tightly, but his silence was more terrifying than any outburst.
He carried me straight out of the hospital and into the black car waiting outside.
The world blurred around us, but my heart thudded wildly in my chest.
By the time we reached his office, I only then noticed the mess I was—clothes stained, hair disheveled.
I was completely undone.
Fortunately, he had a private lift from the underground garage that took us directly into his enormous office.
Inside, I followed him quietly.
Then I heard him making a call—likely to his secretary—mentioning to bring in a set of women’s clothes.
Minutes later, the clothes were delivered.
Alistair motioned for her to hand it to me.
“Madam, here are your clothes,” she said politely with a smile, though obviously surprised by my presence.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
The secretary left without another word.
“There’s a spare room down the corridor.
You can change there,” he said casually, settling into his chair.
Without asking further, I did as told.
I found the room and stepped inside.
An elegant bedroom greeted me.
Wow.
This was the first time I’d ever seen such a place inside a CEO’s office.
Alistair really was something else.
I went to the bathroom, freshened up quickly, and changed.
When I was done, I placed my soiled garments in the bag and returned to his office.
He was already working on his papers, his focus sharp, as though my presence barely mattered.
But I couldn’t help wondering why he had brought me here of all places.
The moment I stepped in, his head lifted.
His piercing gray eyes locked onto mine instantly.
“Uh…
thanks—for your help earlier,” I said in a low voice, feeling small under his scrutiny.
His gaze pinned me, sharp and unwavering.
I couldn’t tell if it was anger, smugness, or something else entirely.
“I thought you were stronger,” his deep, taunting voice filled the space.
“Why did you let them throw things at you?
You should’ve walked away before it escalated.”
My stomach knotted.
So this was why he brought me here?
To mock me?
My lips pressed into a thin line.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.
Why should I run away?
Wouldn’t that just give them the satisfaction of thinking I was guilty?”
He didn’t respond right away.
His gaze lingered on me a moment longer before he stood, holding a pen and a sealed folder in his hand.
“Sit,” he ordered as he walked toward me.
I hesitated but complied.
He placed the folder on the center table and gestured to it.
“Sign it.” His tone was flat.
Confused, I reached for the folder.
My fingers trembled slightly as I flipped it open.
And my eyes widened at what I saw inside.