Chapter five

I rushed through the hospital entrance, my shoes squeaking against the polished floors. The morning shift had already begun, and I was five minutes behind—not ideal for my first day back. I barely had time to take a breath before my phone buzzed.

Matron Joan: First day back. You ready?

I exhaled and typed back.

Me: As ready as ever.

Shoving my phone into my pocket, I pushed through the chaos of the morning rounds. Nurses moved briskly between rooms, IV machines beeped in the distance, and patients called for assistance. The familiar rhythm of the hospital was both overwhelming and grounding at the same time.

Matron Joan stood by the nurses' station, her kind eyes softening when she saw me. "Aria, good to have you back," she said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry about your mother. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

I nodded. "I need to be."

She studied me for a moment before nodding in approval. "Alright. I know you'll throw yourself into work, but don't overdo it. If you need a break, take one."

"I will," I lied.

No time to dwell. I grabbed my patient charts and got to work.

"Good morning, Mr. Reynolds," I said, stepping into the first room.

The elderly man grinned, his wrinkled face lighting up. "Ah, my favorite nurse returns!"

"Flattery won't get you out of physical therapy," I teased, checking his vitals. His oxygen levels were stable, but I made a note to remind the doctor to adjust his medication.

"How's the pain today?"

"Manageable, but I wouldn't say no to something stronger."

"I'll talk to your doctor."

I moved quickly, stopping in each room to check on my patients.

Mrs. Patel was struggling to sit up when I walked in.

"Easy," I said, adjusting her pillows.

"I hate feeling like this," she muttered.

"You're healing faster than most," I reassured her. "One step at a time."

By the time I reached Mr. Lopez's room, I knew something was wrong. His breathing was too shallow, his complexion too pale.

I pressed my pager. Possible deterioration. Transfer recommended.

Within minutes, an orderly arrived to prep him for transfer to the ICU.

"Hang in there, Mr. Lopez," I said as he was wheeled out.

Back at the nurses' station, Zoe glanced up from her tablet.

"Another double shift?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded. "Lily's tuition is due next week."

Zoe shook her head. "You're going to work yourself to death. You know I can help if you need it."

"I know. But I've got it under control."

Before she could argue, Dr. Jonathan Pierce strode down the hallway, his sharp eyes locking onto me.

"Nurse Thorne, a moment?"

I straightened. Dr. Pierce wasn't one for small talk.

"You're assigned to the VIP wing today," he said briskly. "A very important patient is coming in for routine monitoring. I expect the best care."

I nodded. "Of course. Who's the patient?"

"Richard Ashford."

I blinked. "The Richard Ashford?"

Pierce's voice lowered. "It's vital for the hospital's reputation."

I swallowed. Everyone knew the Ashford name. Power. Wealth. Influence.

I headed toward the VIP wing, nerves tightening my stomach.

Ashford Corp Headquarters

Damien Ashford stood at his office window, his jaw set as he stared out at the New York skyline.

A knock on the door.

"Come in."

Marcus Tanner walked in, hands in his pockets. "Your father's on his way to the hospital."

Damien didn't turn around. "He said he doesn't need me there."

Marcus leaned against the desk. "Still, maybe you should—"

"We have a board meeting," Damien interrupted, his voice cool.

Marcus exhaled. "Your aunt Victoria's stirring trouble again."

Damien finally turned, his blue eyes sharp. "She always is. Let her try."

Neither of them knew how much was about to change.

At New York Presbyterian, Richard Ashford arrived with a quiet but commanding presence. Even at 58, he carried himself like a man used to control.

I took a steadying breath before stepping into his room.

"Good morning, Mr. Ashford. I'm Nurse Thorne. I'll be taking care of you today."

He studied me with an unreadable expression. "Well, Nurse Thorne, let's get this over with. I have an empire to run."

I forced a polite smile. "Let's start with vitals."

His readings were stable, nothing alarming. I went through the routine checks, making notes.

It was just another day.

Until it wasn't.

By 2 PM, I was adjusting Richard Ashford's IV when he suddenly winced, gripping his chest.

I froze. "Mr. Ashford?"

His breathing hitched. His face paled.

"Code Blue!" I slammed the emergency button.

The room erupted into controlled chaos.

Dr. Pierce rushed in. "What happened?"

"Sudden chest pain, possible cardiac arrest!" I moved fast, grabbing the defibrillator.

"Charging!"

The machine beeped.

"Clear!"

His body jolted. No response.

Again.

Nothing.

"Come on, come on," I muttered under my breath, pressing down on his chest.

Dr. Pierce's expression was grim as he injected a dose of epinephrine.

Still nothing.

Twenty minutes passed in a blur of compressions, medication, and shocks.

Then—flatline.

Silence.

Dr. Pierce exhaled. "Time of death, 2:37 PM."

I stood there, my pulse pounding in my ears.

The door burst open.

Damien Ashford.

His sharp blue eyes locked onto me.

"Where is my father?"

Dr. Pierce stepped forward. "Mr. Ashford, I'm very sorry. We did everything we could—"

Damien's gaze snapped to me. "You. You were his nurse."

I swallowed. "Mr. Ashford, I—"

"What happened?" His voice was dangerously low.

Dr. Pierce interjected. "Let's discuss this privately."

"No," Damien snapped. "How does a man in routine monitoring just die? This is negligence. This is—" He stopped, his jaw clenching. "This is murder."

The accusation hung in the air.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

"Mr. Ashford, I assure you, we did everything—"

"Save it." His voice was ice. He turned to Pierce. "I want a full investigation. And I want her arrested. Now."

I opened my mouth to protest, but security was already stepping in.