A massive, customized helicopter sliced through the skies of New York, its sleek black fra cutting an imposing figure against the city's ever-glowing skyline. But in a city where hundreds of billionaires and thousands of millionaires resided, where private aircraft dotted the heavens like birds, a lone helicopter was nothing extraordinary. Few pedestrians even glanced up at the roaring machine soaring above them, their senses dulled to the extravagance that perated the city.
However, this particular helicopter had a destination—a very specific one. It descended with precision, approaching the rooftop helipad of St. Mary's Private Hospital, one of the most prestigious dical institutions in the world. From the outside, St. Mary's was an architectural marvel, a gleaming glass fortress of healing, standing tall amidst the city's crowded skyline. The hospital had long been a sanctuary for the world's elite, its patient roster reading like a who's who of industry tycoons, global celebrities, and even royalty.
Yet, over the past eight to ten years, St. Mary's had undergone a remarkable transformation. While it remained at the pinnacle of cutting-edge dical advancents, still boasting the world's top doctors and the latest state-of-the-art equipnt, it had evolved beyond just a haven for the ultra-rich.
The hospital had expanded its mission, pioneering a revolutionary nonprofit wing that provided dical care to those who would otherwise be unable to afford such world-class treatnt. No longer was St. Mary's a fortress of exclusivity; now, its doors were open to those in need, regardless of their financial standing. State-of-the-art dical procedures, once reserved for billionaires, were now extended to uninsured patients, struggling families, and even undocunted immigrants who had nowhere else to turn. The hospital had beco a beacon of hope, proving that exceptional healthcare should not be a privilege, but a right. It had shattered the mold, blending luxury healthcare with humanitarian outreach, standing as a shining force in the dical world, an example of what modern healthcare institutions could aspire to be.
The helicopter touched down smoothly on the rooftop, the rhythmic thrum of its blades reverberating through the air before gradually winding down. The doors hissed open, and stepping out onto the rooftop was none other than Susan Beaumont. Her long coat billowed slightly in the wind, but her posture remained tense, her facial expression betraying the turmoil still coursing through her. Behind her, a tall, broad-shouldered bodyguard—Liam—followed closely, his sharp gaze surveying their surroundings.
Only monts ago, Susan had been the center of a dia frenzy, bombarded by the relentless flashing of caras, the deafening shouts of reporters, and the hostile roar of protesters. Now, in the relative calm of the hospital rooftop, she should have felt relief. But she didn't. Her mind was still racing, her pulse still unsteady.
She turned to Liam, her voice firr than before.
"Where is Alex now?" she asked, her concern thinly veiled beneath a tone of impatience. She hated the way she had left him back there. She knew staying wouldn't have helped, but leaving didn't feel right either.
Liam, ever professional, answered without hesitation. "Miss Beaumont, Mr. Blackwell has already left the scene. We were given orders to drop you off here and then proceed to rendezvous with him at the island." He paused before adding, "If that will be all, ma'am."
Though he didn't voice it, there was a tension in Liam's stance. He had seen protests before—many tis, in fact. The previous head of the Blackwell empire had faced his fair share of scrutiny from the press and the public. But this? This was different. The intensity, the sheer magnitude of the demonstration, the outright hostility directed at Alexander—this was uncharted territory. He wasn't comfortable with being away from his boss, not after what he had just witnessed.
As he turned to step back into the helicopter, he felt a gentle but firm grip on his arm. He turned back, only to et Susan's solemn gaze.
"Please," she said, her voice quieter now, yet heavy with emotion. "Help look after him. Don't let anything happen to him."
The scene from earlier replayed in her mind like a haunting reel—the sea of angry faces, the deafening chants of protest, the unwavering, venomous glares aid at Alexander. The hatred she had seen in their eyes unsettled her deeply.
Liam t her gaze with unwavering resolve. "With my life, ma'am," he assured her with a curt nod before stepping onto the helicopter.
Susan stood there, watching as the aircraft lifted off, its blades whipping the air into a frenzy as it ascended. She didn't move until the chopper disappeared into the sky, a long sigh escaping her lips.
"What a day," she muttered under her breath, her mind still reeling from everything that had transpired.
And the day wasn't even over yet.
Stepping through the door from the rooftop, Susan Beaumont was t with an unexpected sight. Standing there, wide-eyed as if he had just witnessed sothing surreal, was her colleague, Dr. Mark Turner. The way he looked at her made it clear—he had seen everything. The helicopter, the dramatic arrival, and perhaps even the lingering tension in her expression.
She straightened her posture and forced a casual tone. "Dr. Mark," she greeted, bringing his attention back to the present.
Mark blinked as if shaking off his shock, then let out an exaggerated sigh. "What is it with you and 'Dr. Mark'? I've told you countless tis—just Mark. It's been years, Susan."
A small smile tugged at the corners of Susan's lips as she let out a soft chuckle. "Okay, just Mark," she teased, her voice laced with amusent.
Mark feigned offense, raising a brow. "Ha-ha. So funny," he quipped dryly, but the signature smirk on his face betrayed his amusent.
As they descended the stairs leading down from the rooftop, Mark gave her a sideways glance. "So... about the roof—what was that?"
Susan knew exactly what he was referring to—the chopper, the unusual scene. But she wasn't about to go into details. Instead, she waved it off with an easy laugh. "Oh, that? It was my friend. He has one and was insistent on carrying to work this morning."
Technically, she wasn't lying. Just bending the truth a little.
Mark gave her a knowing look, clearly unconvinced but deciding not to push further. "He, eh?" he mused, then tilted his head slightly. "Must be wealthy then."
Susan shrugged lightly, feigning indifference. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." Stay connected through My Virtual Library Empire
They reached the elevator, and Mark pressed the button, his expression shifting into one of casual curiosity. As they stepped inside, an awkward silence settled between them, thick and unspoken. Mark, ever the one to fill empty spaces, let out a chuckle before suddenly launching into a completely different topic.
"Oh, did you know that Dr. Dave Bell ca to the hospital today? He's with the chairman right now." There was an excited gleam in his eyes as he continued, "I'm just so obsessed. Do you think he's about to start working here? That would be insane! Just imagine having soone of his caliber in this hospital. The man is a legend! His knowledge of oncology is second to none. He's the only doctor in the world who has successfully removed a pancreatic cancer tumor without complications. That's unheard of! If he works here, it would be incredible! But..." Mark trailed off, suddenly deflating a little. "I doubt it. He's vowed never to stay in one place for too long. He travels the world, taking on rare cases, learning more, helping people. What a life." He sighed, looking up wistfully. "Oof, if only I could et him in person."
Mark had been so caught up in his excitent that he failed to notice how Susan's body had tensed at the re ntion of Dr. Bell's na. A shadow flickered across her face, but by the ti Mark was done rambling, she had regained her composure. Offering him a reassuring smile, she said, "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get there. You're already one of the finest doctors in this hospital, and you're still young."
Mark's cheeks tinged pink as he sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "Heh, thanks."
The elevator let out a soft ding, signaling their arrival. As the doors slid open, they stepped into the surgeons' resting lounge, a space exclusive to hospital staff. Unlike usual, the room was oddly full, as if the entire surgical team had gathered for so unspoken reason. They had barely taken a few steps when a fellow surgeon, Olivia, who was seated on one of the couches, looked up and called out to them.
"Susan, nice to see you. But the chairman's assistant just ca here looking for you. You need to head to his office."
There was sothing in Olivia's voice—a hint of worry, maybe curiosity. Susan felt her stomach tighten slightly but kept her face neutral. "Thanks, Olivia," she replied, before turning and making her way towards the chairman's office.
The mont she left, the hushed voices in the room erupted into murmurs of speculation.
"Why did the chairman call for her? What did she do?" soone asked in a hushed whisper.
"Do you think it's because she randomly took ti off without warning?" another chid in.
"No way. Dr. Turner covered for her. That wouldn't warrant the chairman's attention. It has to be sothing else."
"Wait, why are you all forgetting that Dr. Bell is in the chairman's office right now? Maybe they want Susan to et him. Maybe he's going to take her under his wing!"
"What? That can't be it. Why her?" soone asked incredulously.
"Why not her? She's one of the best surgeons in the world. It's only natural."
While the rumors swirled around the room, Mark stood off to the side, his gaze locked onto Susan as she disappeared down the hallway. But unlike the others, his mind was preoccupied with sothing entirely different.
His eyes drifted to the suit jacket she had been clutching tightly since he first saw her that morning. He had noticed how, back on the rooftop, she had grabbed that man's arm. The rough-looking, powerful, and clearly wealthy man.
His stomach twisted with an unspoken emotion, his mood souring the longer he thought about it. Was that jacket his? Was she holding on to it because of him? Had she spent the night with him?
Mark clenched his jaw but quickly shook his head, forcing himself to push the thought away. 'No, I'm still not giving up,' he told himself. He wasn't just so regular person. He was one of the best dical practitioners in the world, and he had worked tirelessly to earn that reputation.
He had a chance.
And he wasn't about to let it slip away.
I sincerely apologize for the earlier mistake. It has now been fixed, and a new chapter is on the way. Thank you for your patience and understanding!
Reviews
All reviews (0)