Forced to Marry the Cold Billionaire

Elena’s POV  The scream tore through the emergency room just as I swallowed the last sip of cold coffee that tasted like burned dirt. My body jerked upright. Twelve hours into my shift, and my legs already felt like they belonged to someone else. I threw the cup into the trash and ran. The ER exploded into chaos around me. Monitors beeped. Stretchers rolled across the floor. A child cried somewhere behind the curtains while a doctor barked orders near the nurses’ station. Normal night. Normal disaster. “Twenty-four-year-old female,” the paramedic shouted as they pushed the gurney through the doors. “Internal bleeding. Severe head trauma. BP dropping fast.” Blood soaked the patient’s white dress. My stomach tightened. “She was in a car accident?” I asked, snapping on gloves. The paramedic nodded. “SUV flipped three times.” I moved automatically after that. Training. Muscle memory. Survival. “Get me two units ready.” I reached for the patient’s wrist. Weak pulse. Too weak. Dr. Harris appeared beside me. “We’re losing her.” “I know.” My voice came out sharper than I intended. The woman couldn’t have been older than me. Long dark hair. Pale skin. Diamond earrings worth more than my yearly salary. Rich. Not that blood cared whether someone was rich or poor. “Her oxygen’s crashing,” another nurse warned. “Intubate now.” I leaned over the patient, trying to steady my trembling hands. Not now. Please not now. I hadn’t slept properly in three days. Mom’s dialysis bills were overdue again, and the landlord had taped another warning notice to our apartment door that morning. Final Notice. Two words capable of destroying a life. “Elena!” I blinked hard. Focus. The patient’s heart rate plummeted on the monitor. “Come on,” I whispered under my breath. “Stay with me.” But the machine screamed. Flatline. Every sound inside the trauma room vanished beneath the piercing tone. “No pulse.” “Start compressions!” I climbed onto the stool beside the bed and pushed hard against the woman’s chest. One. Two. Three. Sweat slid down my spine beneath my scrubs. “Charge to two hundred!” The paddles pressed against her body. “Clear!” Her body jerked violently. Nothing. Again. “Clear!” Still nothing. My arms burned. My throat tightened. “Come on,” I begged softly. “Please.” The monitor remained flat. Dead silence filled the room except for the machines. Dr. Harris looked at the clock. Then at me. That look. The one every medical worker feared. “Time of death,” he said quietly, “11:47 PM.” The words punched straight through my chest. No matter how many patients I lost, it never got easier. Never. I stepped back slowly, staring at the young woman lying motionless on the bed. Twenty-four. Maybe twenty-five. Now gone forever. Someone’s daughter. Someone’s sister. Someone who probably thought she had tomorrow. “Jesus,” one of the interns whispered. I pulled off my gloves and walked out before anyone could see my face c***k. The hallway felt too bright. Too loud. I braced both hands against the wall, forcing myself to breathe. You don’t get to fall apart. Not here. Not when there were still patients waiting. “Elena?” I turned. Maya, another nurse, stood there holding a chart against her chest. “You okay?” I nodded automatically. Lie. “I’m fine.” She gave me a look that clearly said she didn’t believe me. “You’ve worked six doubles this week,” she said carefully. “You need rest.” I almost laughed. Rest? With what money? My mother needed another dialysis session in two days. My younger brother’s university fees were overdue. And I had exactly forty-three dollars in my bank account. “I’m good,” I said. Maya lowered her voice. “Administration’s been cutting staff again. Everyone’s exhausted.” That made anger flare inside me. Vale Medical Group. The billionaire-owned company that kept buying hospitals while reducing staff and increasing workloads. People like us were expected to save lives while drowning. “Patients are paying for their greed,” I muttered. Before Maya could answer, the elevator doors opened down the hallway. And suddenly the atmosphere changed. Men in black suits stormed into the ER like a wave. Security. Expensive watches. Polished shoes. Power. Every nurse nearby straightened instinctively. Then I saw him. Tall. Broad shoulders. Black tailored coat. Cold gray eyes sharp enough to cut glass. The man moved through the hallway like he owned the air itself. People stepped aside without him asking. My stomach twisted before I even knew why. “Who is that?” one intern whispered. Maya’s face paled slightly. “That’s Damian Vale.” The name hit instantly. CEO of Vale Medical Group. Billionaire. Hospital king. The man responsible for half the healthcare system in the city. And judging by the fury on his face… Something was very wrong. A doctor hurried toward him nervously. “Mr. Vale—” “Where is she?” His voice was dangerously calm. The doctor swallowed. “We did everything possible—” “Where,” Damian repeated slowly, “is my sister?” Ice flooded my veins. No. No way. The young woman in Trauma Bay Three… Oh God. Dr. Harris stepped forward. “Mr. Vale, I’m very sorry for your loss.” For one second, Damian didn’t react. Then his jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might c***k. “She was alive when they brought her in.” “We attempted resuscitation—” “You failed.” The entire hallway fell silent. Every nurse. Every patient. Every doctor. Nobody moved. Damian’s eyes swept across the room like a storm. Then they landed on me. Directly on me. I felt pinned in place. “You.” He took one slow step closer. “Were you in that room?” My throat tightened. “Yes.” “What’s your name?” “Elena Reyes.” His gaze turned glacial. “What happened to my sister, Elena?” The way he said my name made it sound like an accusation. I forced myself to stay steady even though my pulse hammered painfully. “She had severe internal bleeding when she arrived. We tried everything.” “Everything?” His laugh was cold enough to freeze blood. “Interesting.” Anger flickered through me despite the fear. “We did our jobs.” His eyes darkened. “Then why is she dead?” The question sliced straight through me because I’d already been asking myself the same thing. I looked away first. Big mistake. Because when I looked back, something dangerous had settled into his expression. Blame. Raw and merciless. “You’re exhausted,” he said quietly, noticing the shadows under my eyes. “How long was your shift?” I stayed silent. “How long?” “Sixteen hours.” Maya inhaled sharply beside me. Damian stared at me for a long moment. Then his lip curled slightly. “So my sister died in the hands of an overworked nurse who could barely stay standing.” Humiliation burned through my chest. “That’s not fair.” “Fair?” He stepped closer. “You think death is fair?” His voice never rose. That somehow made it worse. Around us, nobody dared speak. I lifted my chin despite the sting behind my eyes. “We fought for her.” “But you lost.” The words landed like bullets. For a second, I hated him. Hated the expensive suit. The cold eyes. The way powerful people always needed someone beneath them to blame. Then his phone rang. One of the suited men approached carefully. “Sir, the media already knows.” Damian never looked away from me. “Of course they do.” Something cold settled in my stomach. Because the way he was looking at me now… It felt like my life had just changed forever. And not for the better.