Chapter 5: The Man in 304
884 Words
Audrey’s forty-eight hours off had been anything but restful. She had spent the weekend jumping at every text tone, peering through her blinds at every dark SUV that cruised down her street, and staring at the silver name badge now sitting on her vanity. The police had taken a report about the ribbon on her door, but without a face or a name, there was little they could do.
By Monday night, the familiar weight of her green scrubs felt less like a professional uniform and more like a target.
"Glad to see you back, Audrey," Nurse Blair said as Audrey stepped behind the counter to check the shift logs. "You look rested. Did you get some sleep?"
"A bit," Audrey lied, pinning her replacement badge—a plain plastic one this time—above her heart. She kept her tone light, though her amber eyes immediately scanned the floor. "How’s the ward looking tonight?"
"Quiet, mostly. But Dr. Khalid left specific instructions for you," Blair said, sliding a thick medical chart across the desk. "The private patient in Room 304 needs his vitals checked and his surgical dressings changed every four hours. Dr. Khalid wants a detailed log, and he explicitly requested you handle it."
Audrey’s fingers tightened on the edge of the chart. Room 304. The room the stalker had mentioned in his note.
"What's the patient's name?" Audrey asked, her voice dropping.
"Damian Vance," Blair replied, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Industrial design tycoon. Apparently, he was involved in some private accident late Thursday night—lacerations and a hairline fracture. He paid for the entire VIP wing to be cleared out. Total mystery man, but incredibly wealthy."
Audrey swallowed the lump in her throat. Thursday night. The exact night the messages started.
Taking a deep breath, she picked up the chart, grabbed a fresh tray of sterile bandages, and walked down the long, dimly lit corridor. The silence of the VIP wing was heavy, the ambient hum of the hospital fading into the background.
She stood outside Room 304. Her heart gave a familiar, anxious thud against her ribs. She knocked softly, pushed the heavy door open, and stepped inside.
The room was vast, dark, and smelled of wealth—expensive leather, cedarwood, and the sharp, clean scent of high-end antiseptic. The only illumination came from the moonlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long silver geometric shapes across the floor.
"Mr. Vance?" Audrey called out quietly. "I'm Nurse Audrey. I'm here to check your vitals."
"I know who you are, Audrey."
The voice came from the shadows near the window. It wasn't the metallic, digitally distorted voice from the phone call, nor was it Khalid's smooth tone. This voice was a low, rich baritone, carrying a dangerous, magnetic rhythm that made the hairs on the back of Audrey's neck stand up.
A silhouette shifted. Damian Vance moved out of the darkness and into the silver moonlight.
Audrey's breath caught. He was tall, with a broad, commanding frame that his dark silk hospital robe couldn't hide. His features looked as though they had been sculpted from marble—a sharp, aristocratic jawline, a straight nose, and dark, unruly hair that fell slightly over his forehead. But it was his eyes that froze her in place. They were a piercing, icy gray, and they were locked onto her with an intense, unblinking focus.
His right hand and forearm were heavily wrapped in thick white surgical gauze.
"You're late," Damian said softly, stepping closer. The air in the room suddenly felt incredibly thin. "I’ve been waiting for you."
"I... I apologize, Mr. Vance," Audrey said, forcing her professional training to kick in as she set the tray down on the bedside table. Her amber eyes darted to his bandaged arm, then back to his icy gaze. "The shift transition took longer than expected. If you could sit on the edge of the bed, I'll start with your blood pressure."
Damian didn't move to the bed. Instead, he stepped right up to the tray, closing the distance between them until Audrey could smell the faint trace of a premium cologne beneath the clinical scents.
He looked down at her hands, which were trembling slightly as she unfolded the blood pressure cuff.
"You're nervous," Damian observed, his voice entirely devoid of warmth, yet laced with an unsettling fascination. He slowly raised his uninjured left hand, his long fingers hovering just an inch away from her plastic name badge. "And you got a new badge. I preferred the silver one."
Audrey froze, the blood draining from her face. Her amber eyes snapped up to meet his icy gray ones.
"What did you just say?" she whispered.
Damian smiled—a slow, dangerous, breathtaking tilt of his lips that didn't reach his cold eyes. He pulled his hand back, casually slipping it into the pocket of his robe.
"Dr. Khalid told me you were the most meticulous nurse on this floor," Damian said smoothly, the transition back to casual conversation so seamless it was terrifying. "He said you have very gentle hands. I wanted to see for myself."
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