Chapter 5 - The Hospital Midnight“He followed her into the dark, and what he saw broke the billionaire’s heart…”Victoria stood paralyzed, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "Ethan... I was just... I was trying to protect you! She's a risk! She has secrets!"
"Get out," Ethan commanded quietly.
"Ethan, please—"
"Pack your bags and leave my house, Victoria," Ethan said, his tone carrying an absolute authority that admitted no debate. "If you set foot on this property again, I will have you arrested for trespassing and grand larceny. Move."
Victoria glared at me with pure hatred, spun on her high heels, and stormed up the stairs toward her guest quarters.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, leaning against the doorframe for support. My shoulder was burning with agonizing heat, and my mind was racing back to Daisy.
"Thank you, Mr. Carter," I whispered.
Ethan looked at me, his expression unreadable. "She mentioned you were drowning in debt. Is that why you took this job despite the risk?"
Before I could answer, my phone screamed in my pocket. A ringtone this time—not a text.
I scrambled to answer it. "Hello? Dr. Vance?"
"Naomi, you need to get to Houston Memorial right now," Dr. Vance’s urgent voice echoed through the speaker. "Daisy’s heart rate dropped to 35. We’re moving her to emergency life support. If you want to see her, you need to come now."
The phone slid out of my hand, clattering against the floor.
The world went dark around the edges. I didn't care about the job. I didn't care about Ethan. I didn't care about the stitches in my shoulder.
"Naomi?" Ethan caught me by my elbows before my knees hit the floor. "What happened? Who was that?"
"My baby..." I sobbed, clutching his suit jacket with desperate strength. "My baby is dying..."
Without a second thought, Ethan turned toward the door. "Mark! Get the SUV ready! NOW!"
The drive from Dallas to Houston usually took nearly four hours. Ethan’s private chauffeur drove like a man possessed, cutting through the dark Texas highway at over 110 miles per hour, escorted by Ethan’s private security vehicles.
In the back seat, I sat frozen, staring out the window, tears silently streaming down my face. Ethan sat across from me, quietly making phone calls on his encrypted sat-phone.
"Get Dr. Aris Thorne on the line," Ethan ordered into the phone. "I don't care if he's in surgery in Boston. Wake him up. Tell him Ethan Carter needs him at Houston Memorial in two hours. Prepare my private jet to pick him up."
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I turned to stare at Ethan in disbelief. "Dr. Thorne? The chief of pediatric cardiology at Harvard?"
"He owes me a favor," Ethan said, his voice firm and unwavering. "Your daughter is not dying tonight, Naomi. Not on my watch."
