Enzo’s POV
My off day was officially over. The mont my foot touched the pavent outside the hospital, a heaviness settled over . The bus hissed behind as it pulled away, but I barely noticed. My hands were clenched into fists inside my pockets, and I couldn’t ignore the way my stomach twisted into knots at the thought of stepping back into that building, the sa building the man who tried to rape was in right now.
Doc Olivier.
Just the thought of him made my chest tighten like a vice. My lungs refused to cooperate, and for a mont, I stood frozen on the sidewalk outside the hospital, trying to rember how to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Again. I needed to ground myself before the mories swept away like a riptide. He wasn’t going to ruin this for —again. This job, this life I’d rebuilt from the ground up, wasn’t his to destroy.
"I can do this," I murmured under my breath, the words dissolving into the chilly morning air like fragile mist.
But even as I said it, my feet stayed rooted in place. Every nerve in my body scread at to turn back, to run, to protect myself. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t let fear win. I forced my legs to move, one step at a ti, until the automatic doors whooshed open and swallowed whole. The hospital stood tall and sterile, familiar and foreign all at once, a place of healing laced with ghosts I’d tried to forget.
Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, too bright, too harsh. The sll of antiseptic hit imdiately—clean, sharp, clinical. I headed straight to the reception desk and signed in, pretending the tremor in my hand wasn’t there. My na looked like a stranger’s, a shaky scrawl on the clipboard. I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact, not ready to explain the storm I was carrying inside.
In the staff lounge, I dropped off my bag in my usual locker. The clink of the tal echoed louder than it should have. I swapped my sneakers for the worn, ugly crocs every nurse knew too well. They were hideous, sure—but they were a symbol. Of long shifts, aching feet, adrenaline, and heartbeats that stopped and started again. Of control. I clung to that.
I thought maybe—just maybe—I’d get a minute to collect myself. A second to pull my pieces together. But no. Of course not.
The pager on my hip buzzed violently, slicing through the stillness. Doc Olivier and I were paged, it was an ergency.
I bolted toward the ergency room, trying to stay focused. The adrenaline helped. So did the chaos. As long as I kept my head down and acted professional, maybe—just maybe—I could get through this without falling apart.
He arrived not long after . I felt him before I saw him. The shift in the air, the prickling at the back of my neck, the burn of his gaze. But I didn’t look at him.
During the surgery, I kept my tone clipped and precise. Every word I spoke was directed at the team, not him. Not once did I et his eyes. I couldn’t afford to slip, not even for a second. Not while he stood inches away from , the mory of his hands still etched into my skin.
When the surgery ended, I didn’t wait. I stripped off my gloves and bolted from the room like the oxygen had run out.
"Enzo, wait! Let’s talk!"
His voice chased down the hallway. I quickened my pace. Maybe if I pretended I didn’t hear him, he’d give up.
But he didn’t.
I felt his hand clamp around my wrist, yanking back with a strength that sent a jolt through my body. Before I could react, he dragged into an empty room and slamd the door shut behind us.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? I don’t want to talk to you. I thought I made myself clear!" I snapped, the fire in my voice barely masking the fear bubbling beneath it.
He looked at with pleading eyes, but all I saw was betrayal.
"Can you just let explain?" he said, voice desperate. "I didn’t an for that to happen. I was angry about what you said and I—I just acted."
My voice was cold, steady. "Doc, you tried to rape ."
His eyes widened, but I didn’t stop. I needed him to hear this.
"I begged you to stop. I cried. I said no again and again, but you kept pushing. Do you have any idea what that did to ? I looked up to you. I trusted you. I thought you were better than that—I thought you were a gentleman."
I stared straight into his eyes, daring him to deny it. Daring him to lie.
"I know," he muttered, sha flickering across his face, "but you pushed too, Enzo. You cheated on . I’ve been so patient with you, never asked you for anything—never asked for sex—but you still went behind my back."
There it was. The victim card.
My jaw tightened. "Did you ever once stop to ask why I said I cheated on you?"
He looked confused.
"I have a stalker, Olivier," I spat, my voice shaking with rage and sothing darker—trauma. "He breaks into my ho. He touches . He does things to without my consent. That’s what I ant. Even though I didn’t say yes, he still did it. So, yeah, I said I cheated because I didn’t know what else to call it."
He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.
"And you know what? As fucked up as it is—he was still better than you. He never hit . He was never rough. What does that say about you, Olivier?"
He was silent.
"So here’s how it’s going to be," I said, stepping back and pushing him away from . "From now on, we’re just colleagues. Let the nurses and the other doctors keep believing that you’re so saint. I don’t care. Just stay away from . Especially outside this hospital."
And with that, I left him standing there in stunned silence.
One down. One more to go.
Olivier was no longer part of my life, and I was going to do whatever it took to get rid of the stalker too. I didn’t want to live in fear anymore. I wanted peace.
And I was done letting anyone take that from .
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