Dating My Enemy's Brother

Chapter 2 — Memory Spark: The Gunshot Night

**Club Powder Room — 10:58 PM**

Emerie gripped the marble counter with both hands. The mirror showed her: soaked blouse, smeared lipstick, wine like blood.

The door creaked open. A female attendant stepped inside, hesitated, and offered tissues.

“I'm fine," Emerie said tightly.

“You sure?"

Emerie nodded. The woman left without another word.

Alone again, she exhaled sharply and muttered, “You don't get to win."

Her fingers moved to the sink's edge, knuckles white.

**Six Months Earlier — County General ER, Blackout Night**

“Gurney coming through!"

Emerie darted down the darkened hallway. Backup generators hummed weakly. Only emergency lights flickered.

She met the trauma team at Bay 4.

“GSW. Chest entry, no exit. BP dropping. Pulse thready."

“Move," she snapped, throwing on gloves. “Get me a clamp, O2, and—wait—who brought him in?"

No answer. Two silent men in tailored suits stood by the wall, blood on their sleeves, unmoved.

The man on the table groaned.

She looked down.

Pale skin. Broad chest. Sharp cheekbones. Expensive watch half-off his wrist.

“Name?"

“None given," a nurse said. “No ID."

The patient's eyes fluttered open.

And locked on hers.

“Save me," he rasped. “No police."

Emerie didn't flinch. “I'm your doctor, not your accomplice."

“Then do your job."

“I am."

She clamped the artery. “Prep for surgery."

He smiled faintly, despite the blood. “Brave woman."

“Shut up and stay alive."

**Two Hours Later**

“He's stable," she said, stripping off gloves.

The suited men approached.

One extended an envelope.

Emerie held up a hand. “Don't."

“It's a gift."

“I don't want it."

“For your silence."

“I'm not silent. I wrote everything in the chart."

Their expressions darkened.

Emerie stepped closer, lowering her voice. “If he dies, he dies. If he lives, he's documented. That's medicine. That's law."

The taller one gave a half-smile. “Not many speak to us that way."

“I'm not many."

They left.

**The Next Morning**

The bed was empty. Discharge papers forged. Security tapes missing.

Emerie stood at the nurse's station, fuming.

“Gone?" she asked.

The charge nurse shrugged. “AMA—against medical advice."

And beside the computer: a single white rose in a glass.

**Back to Present — Club Powder Room**

She stared at herself. A white rose. Red wine. A silk cuff on her wrist.

Emerie blinked away the sting in her eyes.

**One Month After That Night — Outside the Hospital**

He stood near the ambulance bay.

Sunglasses. Black coat. Watching.

Emerie didn't stop walking.

Albert fell into step beside her. “Thought I'd say thanks."

“You disappeared."

“I lived. Thanks to you."

She stopped. “Why are you here?"

“Coincidence."

“No such thing."

“You really don't scare easy, do you?"

She raised a brow. “You really don't understand boundaries, do you?"

He grinned. “Dinner, sometime?"

“No."

The next week: coffee on the bench near her shift change.

Then: flowers in the staff lounge.

Then: a driver offering a “ride home."

Then: a man waiting at her doorstep.

**Back to Present**

She wiped her mouth. Her reflection stared back, unbroken, unbent.

“I warned you," she whispered to no one. “And you took that as invitation."

She reached into her purse. Inside, a small voice recorder blinked red. Still running.

She smiled grimly.

**Entry 002**

— Event: abduction under guise of invitation

— Location: Redgate

— Key phrases: “You'll learn I protect what's mine."

— Threat level: escalating

— Mental state: alert, building evidence

— Intent: observe, endure, dismantle

She saved it.

Her phone pinged.

**Albert**:

*You okay?*

*Come back out when you're ready.*

She stared at the screen, then typed:

**Emerie**:

*You shouldn't have touched me.*

*You're building something I plan to burn down.*

She didn't send it.

Instead, she deleted the draft and exited the bathroom.

**Back in the Lounge**

Albert stood as she reentered, tone softening. “Feeling better?"

“Your wine burned," she replied calmly. “And I don't mean the alcohol."

“I wanted you to feel welcome."

“You wanted to own the moment."

A lieutenant raised a brow. “She's got bite."

Emerie turned to him. “Would you say that if I were a man?"

He opened his mouth, then shut it.

Albert laughed. “See? You're electric."

She stepped close, voice low. “I'm a storm, Albert. And storms don't ask permission."

“Then we'll see who gets struck first."

Emerie smiled without warmth. “You'll know. I promise."

She turned on her heel and walked out.

This time, no one followed.