BILLIONAIRES VENDETTA

CHAPTER 2: CROSSING PATHS

NATALIE’S POV (Extended)

I was already deep into the rhythm of the emergency room when the double doors swung open with a loud crash. The nurses moved like clockwork, weaving seamlessly around each other, while I, the head surgeon on duty, orchestrated the chaos. But this wasn’t just another hectic shift — the woman on the stretcher, bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound, was in far worse condition than any patient I'd seen in weeks.

The bullet wound was low on her abdomen, dangerously close to her liver. Blood soaked through the bandages wrapped hastily around her waist, staining them a deep crimson. The nurse by my side held the wound with gloved hands, trying to stem the bleeding, but it wasn’t enough.

I didn’t have time to think. “Get me a crash cart and prepare the OR — NOW!” I barked orders, my adrenaline spiking. Every second counted. If we didn't move fast, she would bleed out.

“Her blood pressure is dropping, Doctor,” a nurse shouted over the noise.

“Push a liter of saline, now! I need someone to prep for a transfusion,” I commanded. I glanced at her vitals on the monitor — they were all over the place. The bullet had missed her vital organs but had caused significant internal damage.

I leaned over her, focusing solely on keeping her alive. “Stay with me,” I whispered, hoping that somehow my words could reach her through the fog of pain. The bullet was lodged dangerously close to an artery. I could feel the tension in the room, every nurse’s gaze locked on me, waiting for the call.

“Scalpel,” I snapped, and the cold metal handle was instantly placed in my palm. I made a swift incision to remove the bullet fragments. My hands moved with practiced precision as I worked to clamp off the ruptured artery. Blood sprayed out, hot and bright, but I didn’t flinch.

“Doctor, her heart rate is unstable,” the anesthesiologist warned.

“Damn it. Prepare for defibrillation,” I instructed. The air was thick with tension as I worked to control the bleeding. Time seemed to stretch. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if she would make it. But as the last stitch went in and her vitals slowly began to stabilize, I allowed myself a brief sigh of relief. She was alive. For now.

FIVE HOURS LATER

I stepped into the hallway, wiping my forehead, the tension still coiling in my muscles. But before I could catch my breath, two men in tailored suits stormed down the corridor. The taller one looked furious, eyes ablaze with a kind of rage that sent a chill down my spine.

“Where the hell is she?” he demanded, his voice booming through the sterile hallway.

“Sir, please lower your voice. This is a hospital,” I said, my tone stern despite the flutter of anxiety his presence caused.

The taller one stepped closer, towering over me. His anger was almost tangible. “How is she?”

“Your mother survived,” I replied calmly, holding my ground. “The surgery was successful, but her condition is still critical. She needs time to recover.”

“Who did this to her?” he hissed through clenched teeth, his gaze boring into mine as if he could pull the answers out by sheer willpower.

“That’s not something I can answer,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Right now, the focus needs to be on her recovery.”

The other man, slightly shorter but equally intimidating, stepped forward. “I’m Adriano Ricci, and this is Luca De Rossi,” he said, trying to defuse the situation. “We appreciate your efforts, Doctor, but we need to know who’s behind this.”

I could see that Luca was barely holding it together. There was a dangerous edge in his eyes, one that made me realize these men weren’t just concerned family members. There was something far darker lurking beneath their polished exteriors.

LATER THAT NIGHT: NATALIE’S POV

Exhausted, I returned to check on my patient one last time before heading home. To my surprise, Luca was still in her room, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

“She should be awake by now,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. The frustration in his voice was palpable. “I need to talk to her.”

“Mr. De Rossi, as I said before, recovery takes time,” I reminded him. “She just underwent a critical surgery. Forcing her to wake up now could be detrimental to her health.”

Luca turned to me, his eyes blazing with barely contained fury. “You don’t understand. Someone is after my family. I need to know what she saw.”

“I get that you’re worried, but pushing her too soon could put her life at risk,” I said, trying to keep my tone firm yet gentle. “If you truly care about her, you’ll give her time to heal.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out. But instead, he turned away, fists tightening at his sides. “If anything happens to her, it’s on your head, Doctor,” he said, his voice a deadly whisper.

Adriano appeared in the doorway just then, sensing the tension. “Luca, that’s enough,” he said. “You’re not helping her by being here. Let’s step out, get some air.”

Luca hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. But before he left, he turned to me one last time. “I’ll be back. And when I am, I want answers. No more delays.”

As I watched them leave, a cold shiver ran down my spine. Something about their desperation, their intensity... it didn’t add up. This wasn’t just a simple case of a loved one in danger. There was something deeper, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

But then, just as I was about to leave, the heart monitor in the patient’s room started to beep frantically. I rushed back in to find her thrashing on the bed, eyes wide with terror.

“Help... they... they’re coming...” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes rolling back.

Before I could ask what she meant, the machines around her flatlined, the piercing sound filling the room.

Everything went silent except for the chilling echo of her final words.