Chapter 14

— Nolan's POV —

[ Next day ]

I sat on the edge of the bed, still, like waking too quickly might tear something fragile inside me.

The morning light didn't feel like a beginning. Just another stretch of hours I had to survive.

I could still hear him.

"Take your medicine and stop running."

I pressed a hand to my face, breathing slow.

Avoiding him forever wasn't an option.

I was his doctor. This was my job.

No matter how much he blurred the lines.

But a part of me wanted to disappear. To turn off my phone, lock the door, pretend none of this was happening. Pretend I hadn't seen the things I saw. Felt what I felt.

It wasn't just exhaustion anymore — it was something deeper. Like my mind was cracking along a seam I couldn't see, and he was the one holding it together… or tearing it apart.

I needed clarity. Distance. Control.

So I did what I thought might help me face him — I searched his name. Varek Straven.

The results didn't surprise me, not really. A powerful, sharp-eyed figure in the business world. Multiple ventures under his name. Silent investments. Untouchable wealth.

Influence that explained far too much.

And the strangest part? There were no interviews. No public appearances. Just headlines. Rumors. Like the world knew him, but had never really seen him. That unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.

That explained why he walked in and out of our hospital like it belonged to him. Why the administration wouldn't touch him. Why the rules bent around him like they were nothing.

Why no one questioned him but me.

So there was no point in running anymore.

I dressed, buttoned my white coat, and headed in.

Every step toward his room felt like approaching a fire I'd convinced myself I could manage.

I opened the door, calm on the outside. Empty on the inside.

He was sitting in the chair — too relaxed.

Like he was waiting for me.

---

"You're late," he said softly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "But I forgive you."

I ignored the comment and moved to the table, keeping the distance clinical. "How are you feeling today, Mr. Straven?"

"For you," he said, standing, "it's just Varek."

"Any headaches? Dizziness? Difficulty sleeping?"

He stepped a little closer. "Plenty of difficulty sleeping," he murmured. "But that's mostly because I think of you too much."

I didn't flinch. I was prepared for this.

"This is a clinical session," I said coolly. "If you don't wish to continue, I can end it here."

He laughed once, quietly. "Still pretending?"

"I'm doing my job."

"No, you're surviving." He leaned closer. "There's a difference."

I didn't answer. I just stood, collecting my notes.

He sighed. "You're wasting your time, you know."

"With?"

"With all this." I said.

He stepped closer, smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

"You really think I'm here for all this shit?"

I finally looked up.

"I don't care why you're here. But you're wasting my time. And while you may have enough money to burn hours like it's nothing, I don't. There are patients actually suffering who aren't using this place like some twisted game board."

He didn't flinch. In fact, his smirk widened.

"Oh. So you did some research." His voice dipped into something silkier. "Interested in me now?"

I glared.

"You should've just asked me directly," he continued, voice a little quieter. "I would've told you everything you wanted to know."

My chair scraped back as I stood. "We're done here."

I turned to leave.

But his voice followed me — sharper now. Not angry. Just… desperate to be heard.

"Don't you want to know what happened in those twelve years you don't remember?"

I froze.

"Don't you want to know who I am?" he added. "Why everything's happening now? Why you?"

I didn't turn around.

Didn't answer.

I just walked out the door.

But the silence that followed me down the hall felt heavier than his voice.

Like the questions he asked had been sitting in me this whole time — waiting to rot their way out.

Who is he?

And who the hell am I?

I couldn't ask him.

I had to find the answers myself.

So I would.

Even if it meant digging through memories I thought were long buried.

Even if it meant unearthing a past I wasn't sure I wanted to remember.