Episode Eleven: Collateral Damage
1389 Words
For one second, I genuinely thought I’d heard him wrong.
“The what?”
The man near the door looked deeply uncomfortable now.
“The transplant application,” he repeated carefully. “Several media outlets received copies this morning.”
Cold spread slowly through my chest.
No.
No no no.
That paperwork contained private medical information.
Mom’s condition.
Financial records.
Everything.
My stomach turned violently.
“That’s illegal,” I whispered.
Damian’s expression had gone completely unreadable.
Which somehow looked worse than anger.
“Who leaked it?” he asked quietly.
The man hesitated.
“We’re still investigating.”
Wrong answer.
I could tell immediately from the dangerous stillness in Damian’s posture.
“Investigate faster,” he said.
Not loud.
Not emotional.
But sharp enough that even I felt the impact.
The man nodded quickly and disappeared from the room.
The second the door closed, I grabbed my phone.
Three missed calls.
Twenty-one unread messages.
And somehow—
That terrified me more than the board meeting.
My hands shook as I opened social media.
Huge mistake.
My face appeared instantly.
Again.
Headlines flooded the screen.
NURSE LINKED TO VALE SCANDAL STRUGGLES WITH FAMILY MEDICAL DEBT
DID MONEY MOTIVATE ELENA REYES?
SECRET TRANSPLANT FILES EXPOSE POSSIBLE MOTIVE
I stopped breathing for a second.
Motive.
They were calling my mother’s illness a motive.
Like I’d traded a woman’s life for money.
“Oh my God.”
I backed toward the desk instinctively.
My vision blurred.
The internet was cruel before.
Now it felt monstrous.
Another article loaded automatically.
Private details.
Mom’s dialysis schedule.
Hospital information.
Financial assistance requests.
Humiliation poured across the screen line by line.
I suddenly understood why celebrities disappeared.
Why they snapped.
Why they broke.
Because strangers consumed your suffering like entertainment.
“Elena.”
I barely heard Damian’s voice.
My chest felt tight.
Too tight.
“They know everything,” I whispered.
The panic hit all at once after that.
Fast.
Violent.
I couldn’t breathe properly.
Couldn’t think properly.
My hands trembled harder around the phone.
“Elena.”
Closer now.
The phone disappeared from my grip suddenly.
Damian had taken it.
I looked up sharply.
His expression changed instantly when he saw my face.
Not cold anymore.
Concerned.
Real concern.
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“You’re panicking.”
“No, I’m—”
My voice cracked embarrassingly.
Wonderful.
Damian stepped closer carefully.
Not touching me.
Just there.
Steady.
“Look at me.”
That tone again.
Calm enough to anchor someone drowning.
I hated how effective it was.
“Slow breaths,” he said quietly.
I tried.
Failed.
Tried again.
The room still felt too small.
Too bright.
Too overwhelming.
“They published my mother’s records,” I whispered shakily.
Something dark flashed across Damian’s face.
Not annoyance.
Fury.
Real fury.
“They shouldn’t have access to that.”
“But they do.”
My voice sounded smaller now.
God.
I hated that.
Damian glanced toward the door sharply.
Then back at me.
“This ends today.”
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it sounded impossible.
“You can’t stop the internet.”
“No,” he agreed quietly. “But I can stop the people feeding it.”
The certainty in his voice unsettled me.
Because I believed him.
That was somehow terrifying too.
I pressed trembling fingers against my forehead.
“This is my fault.”
Damian frowned immediately.
“No.”
“If I hadn’t gone to that gala—”
“This was already happening.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
The sharpness in his voice made me look up again.
His jaw was tight now.
Controlled anger radiating off him in waves.
“They were always going to destroy somebody over Isabelle’s death,” he said coldly. “You were simply the easiest target.”
The honesty of that hit brutally hard.
Because deep down—
I knew he was right.
Nurses weren’t powerful.
We didn’t have lawyers.
Or PR teams.
Or billion-dollar corporations protecting us.
People like me got sacrificed first.
The realization made me feel sick.
A knock interrupted the silence again.
Mrs. Greene entered carefully.
“Elena,” she said gently, “your mother saw the news.”
My stomach dropped instantly.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s upset.”
I moved toward the door immediately.
Damian caught my wrist before I reached it.
The contact shocked both of us.
His hand loosened instantly like he realized it too late.
But he didn’t let go completely.
“She shouldn’t see you panicking,” he said quietly.
The concern in his voice hit harder than the actual touch.
I stared down at his hand around my wrist.
Warm.
Steady.
Dangerous.
Then he released me slowly.
Too slowly.
The room suddenly felt strange again.
Too aware.
Too close.
I stepped back first.
Right decision.
Definitely the right decision.
Damian’s expression closed off immediately afterward.
Like he regretted the moment too.
Good.
At least one of us still had common sense.
Probably.
I followed Mrs. Greene upstairs quickly.
Mom sat on the edge of the guest bed clutching her phone tightly.
Tears filled her eyes the second she saw me.
And that nearly destroyed me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered immediately.
Mom looked horrified.
“For what?”
“For all of this.”
“Elena.”
She stood slowly despite clearly being exhausted.
“This is not your fault.”
But it felt like it was.
Every headline.
Every camera.
Every ugly comment online.
People were ripping apart our lives because of me.
Mom cupped my face gently.
“You listen to me,” she said firmly. “Sick people needing help is not shameful.”
That almost made me cry.
Almost.
“I should’ve protected you better.”
Her expression broke instantly.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
The sadness in her voice hurt more than anger ever could.
“You’ve spent your whole life protecting us.”
I looked away quickly before emotions won.
Too late probably.
Mom pulled me into a careful hug.
Weak from treatment.
Still comforting me anyway.
God.
I was so tired.
A soft knock came from the doorway.
Damian stood there.
Not entering fully.
Just watching carefully.
Mom noticed him immediately.
And to my complete shock—
She smiled faintly.
“Mothers always know,” she said suddenly.
I blinked.
“What?”
She looked between us slowly.
“You both look exhausted in exactly the same way.”
My soul nearly left my body.
“Mom.”
Damian actually looked caught off guard for once.
Rare achievement.
“We are not—”
“I didn’t say anything,” Mom interrupted innocently.
Liar.
Absolute liar.
I pulled away from the hug immediately.
“I need coffee.”
“Probably true,” Damian muttered.
I pointed at him accusingly.
“You’re part of the reason my blood pressure is unstable.”
“Only part?”
Mom laughed softly.
Actually laughed.
The sound startled all three of us.
Because it had been a while.
A long while.
The tension in the room loosened slightly afterward.
Just enough to breathe again.
Then Damian’s phone buzzed.
And everything changed immediately.
He checked the screen once.
His expression hardened.
“What now?” I asked tiredly.
He looked directly at me.
“The board moved the announcement forward.”
A chill crawled slowly down my spine.
“What announcement?”
Damian held my gaze steadily.
“The relationship statement.”
Silence.
Then—
“But we haven’t agreed yet.”
“I know.”
That answer again.
Always honest.
Always terrible.
I stared at him in disbelief.
“You said no decisions happened today.”
“I said I wouldn’t force you.”
“That sounds dangerously similar.”
Something conflicted crossed his face briefly.
Then disappeared beneath control again.
“The board believes the leak created sympathy.”
I felt sick all over again.
“They’re turning my mother’s illness into a marketing strategy.”
“No,” Damian said sharply.
But he sounded angry now.
Not defensive.
At them.
“They’re trying to contain a corporate collapse.”
“That doesn’t make it better!”
“I know.”
My chest tightened again.
God.
I was beginning to hate those two words.
- Writer
