Kissed by danger

Chapter 2 :Mistaken for someone else

Flora's footsteps echoed softly against the tiles as she followed the silent path to the director's office. Her heart beat an irregular rhythm beneath her uniform, each step tinged with a growing sense of unease.

A woman was already sitting in one of the office chairs. She wore a crisp slate-gray suit tailored to perfection, with sharp lapels, subtle pinstripes, and an eagle-shaped silver brooch on her collar. Her posture was anything but stiff; she slouched slightly and looked at Flora with quiet interest.

Flora paused at the threshold, her brow furrowed in confusion. There were three other people in the room: the hospital director behind his desk, Michael, Ryan Wilson's assistant, and the woman, who tilted her head slightly as if sizing her up.

Michael gestured to an empty chair. "Please sit."

"Flora sank into the chair, her hands clenched in her lap. Her fingers shook, wondering why she had been called."

Michael broke the heavy silence. "This is the nurse that was present during the incident."

The suited woman straightened slightly and extended her hand to Flora with unexpected warmth. "Charlotte Lee," she said, her voice smooth and assertive. "I am conducting an investigation on behalf of Mr. Ryan Wilson."

Flora blinked, her mind processing the name. Ryan Wilson? Could it be the same Ryan Wilson, the influential CEO of Atlas Global, the company that had partnered with the hospital where she wanted to intern? The connection made her feel a mix of fear and anxiety."

Flora looked confused, and she tilted her head to the side. Her eyes searched for answers, but none came. She looked puzzled, her gaze lingering on Charlotte's face, waiting for more information. Why was she being asked about Ryan Wilson? The question swirled in her mind.

Charlotte's gaze remained focused on her. "You were on duty last night, correct?"

Every logical fiber in Flora screamed to tell the truth, but she nodded mutely, her face stiff. Backtracking now would only make matters worse.

"Ryan was shot here yesterday," Charlotte explained softly, during an attack by armed men. He claims that a woman, a nurse, saved his life.

Flora's throat tightened.

Shot?

The news wrapped around her chest like a python. "Flora was puzzled about last night's events. She remembered the patient room where she had met me standing.

The entire place looked chaotic, with equipment scattered everywhere, blood stains on the floor, and lights flashing."

As if sensing Flora’s discomfort, Charlotte leaned forward, her tone softening.

"He is okay, if that's what you are worried about.

He even asked about you. "But that's not why we're here." She instantly changed her tone, becoming much more serious.

The tension in Flora's shoulders relaxed slightly.

"The surveillance footage was wiped clean. "I assume that the people who shot him did it on purpose," Charlotte Lee went on.

"We are hoping you remember the attackers' faces so that we can track them down with the help of the police."

Flora’s eyes darted to the floor. Her voice cracked. "No, ma. They wore masks.

Did you notice anything distinctive about them? Any tattoos, scars, or unusual clothing? Charlotte pressed on.

"I could not see anything," she explained, shaking her head.

Flora lied to keep herself safe behind the fragile wall of uncertainty, or to play it safe until she learned the truth about what happened when I covered for her overnight shift.

Charlotte took a few moments to study her before standing up from her chair.

Thank you.

"That will be all." She slid a card across the desk. Ryan asked her to contact him. Tomorrow, after, he gets some rest."

Flora slowly took the card with trembling fingers. The name embossed in gold felt strange in her hand.

Michael nodded, and the two of them walked out, leaving Flora alone with the hospital's director, her mind clouded with too many thoughts.

****************

I dragged myself through the front door, the weight of the day pressing hard against my shoulders. My legs were jelly, and my thoughts were blurry.

I didn’t even bother with the lights as I headed upstairs, just the dim glow from the hallway guided me to the bathroom.

The bathwater steamed as I sank slowly beneath its surface. It didn’t ease my exhaustion, but at least it wrapped me in silence. My forehead rested against my knees as memories clawed their way to the surface.

The previous day in slow, agonizing detail. I felt it all, his touch, the glint in his eye, the way I had let my guard drop to a total stranger.

I gave myself to a stranger; this time, I said my thoughts out loud.

My cheeks flamed with shame.

"I hid my face in my arms, feeling the cold bathtub edge against my skin. I couldn't believe I was married. The ring still felt new on my finger."

At first, I did not feel guilty about kissing a total stranger because it seemed necessary. It was logical, given that I needed to save him.

But now, with the silence ringing louder than ever, regret has crept into every corner of my mind.

I couldn’t tell if I was angry, sad, or just…..empty inside.

My life had become a constant storm. Choices were made not from want but from need.

It wasn’t love that put Ryan’s name on my marriage certificate. It was desperation to save my family’s situation.

One of the reasons I agreed to marry him was my mother's diagnosis, which had shattered everything.

diabetic nephropathy.

Her kidneys were failing. Her body was becoming weaker and paler, like a flower starved of sunlight. She needed a transplant. The cost was impossible.

I pulled myself from the bath and dressed quickly, my heart pounding with urgency. No makeup. No perfume. Just the urgent need to see her.

The hospital had a strong odor of bleach and sorrow.

My footsteps echoed down the cold corridors as I made my way to the ICU.

I hated that I knew the way by heart.

The sliding doors opened, and there she was, hooked up to machines that hummed and beeped like ticking clocks, counting down the time we did not have.

Her face appeared drained of color, as if someone had wiped away the warmth she once carried.

I sat beside her, careful not to disturb the tangle of wires and tubes.

My father, on the other hand, had given all he could.

I had scraped money from every source until my fingers bled, but it wasn’t enough.

The transplant was our last hope but hope came at a cost we could not afford. That is when Ryan entered the picture.

A man with money. A solution wrapped in a proposal.

I had agreed, not because I loved him, but because I could not bear watching my mother die.

I traded vows for a lifeline.

Now I sat in this hospital room, staring at the woman who had given me everything, wondering how much of myself I had sacrificed to keep her alive.