The red light on the tablet screen pulsed like a dying heart. "Ready for the big house, Leo? The dogs are waiting."
The breath hitched in my throat, but only for a second. I was Dr. C. I didn't panic; I operated. I didn't scream; I calculated. But as I stared at the word "dogs," a cold shiver raced down my spine. It felt like a ghost touching my neck—a name I couldn't quite remember, a face from a nightmare I thought I'd outrun.
"Leo!" nanny,I called out, my voice sharp enough to cut through the silence of the laundry room.
The dryer door creaked open. My son and his nanny crawled out, his small face pale, his eyes wide as he clutched a stuffed lion to his chest. He didn't cry. He had learned long ago that in our world, silence was a shield. To the world, he was a five-year-old boy. To me, he was my entire soul wrapped in a tiny frame.
"Mama?" he whispered, looking past me at the tall, dark shadow looming in the doorway.
Asher froze. The man who had just ordered the "disposal" of two assassins looked as if he'd been struck by lightning. His storm-cloud eyes locked onto Leo—onto the jawline that mirrored his own, onto the defiant, emerald spark in the boy's gaze.
"He... he has your eyes, Chloe," Asher rasped. His voice sounded like it was being dragged over broken glass, stripped of its usual iron-clad authority.
"He has nothing of yours," I snapped, scooping Leo into my arms. The weight of him grounded me, even as the metallic scent of blood from the hallway guard clung to my scrubs. "Don't look at him. Don't even breathe in his direction."
I turned my back on the Mafia King and walked toward the bedroom. I didn't need to pack; I lived my life in a state of constant readiness. I grabbed a pre-packed emergency bag from the hidden compartment in the closet and slung it over my shoulder and ordered his nanny to grab hers.
"We're leaving," Asher commanded. The shock was fading, replaced by that suffocating dominance I remembered so well. He reached out, his hand catching my shoulder. "My motorcade is downstairs. My estate is the only place with a Tier-1 security grid that can block a remote breach like this."
I wrenched my shoulder away, my eyes flashing with fire. "I told you once, Asher. I am not going to your fortress. I've spent five years escaping your cages. I won't walk back into one just because you've decided to play the hero."
"This isn't about us!" Asher roared, his composure finally snapping. He pointed at the tablet still flashing on the counter. "They know his name, Chloe! They are inside your system. They bypassed locks that cost millions. Every second you stay here, you are putting a target on that boy's head."
"I know exactly what is on his head," I said, my voice dangerously low. "And I know that the safest place for a target is to disappear. I have my own safe houses or a hotel for tonight. I have people you don't know about. I'm taking him to the Saint Regis—under a name you can't track."
Asher stepped into my space, his massive frame blocking the only exit. The scent of sandalwood and expensive tobacco flooded my senses—a sensory trigger of a life I'd burned to the ground.
"You think a hotel can stop professional hunters? You're a surgeon, Chloe. Don't let your pride turn you into a fool," he hissed, leaning down until we were eye-to-eye. "The Saint Regis is a glass box. It has a dozen entrances and a staff I haven't vetted. It's a graveyard waiting to happen."
"And your estate is a prison," I countered. "I'd rather take my chances with a glass box than a man who viewed me as a prize heifer for his 'genetic viability.' You lost the right to protect us on that cliff, Asher. Move. Now."
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush the lungs. I saw the muscle in his jaw jump. I saw the way his fingers twitched, the predator in him wanting to simply throw me over his shoulder and force his will upon me. But he saw the way I held Leo—the way I was prepared to use the weapon in my hand—and he faltered.
"Fine," he spat, stepping aside with a jagged movement. "Go to your hotel. But my men will be on the floor. My snipers will be on the roof. You won't see them, but if so much as a shadow moves toward your door, I will know."
"I'm not running, Asher. I'm moving. There's a difference. And I don't need your men around me Asher".
He walked to me and whispered, "when did you become this stubborn and unreasonable Chloe? I'm warning you right now, if anything, I mean, if a hair on Leo's head is touched" because of your stupidity, I will murder you myself. You know what I'm capable of doing"
I walked past him without a backward glance, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I led Leo toward the private elevator, my mind racing. Who was the "Shadow"? Why did that message feel like a personal taunt?
"Mama, why are you always fighting with the man from the drawer? Is he my daddy?"
I almost choked as I stopped dead on my track . At that moment, my eyes and Asher's eyes met as I turned around. In his eyes was an unspoken word of I dare you to answer. What are you going to say to him?"
"Um!! Baby.. I stammered, we are not fighting. And he is just a person I used to know from the past. Remember I already told you that before ". I said in between pain. I hated the fact that I had to lie to him again. But I needed to protect him from unforeseen pain ahead of him.
There was a sharp pain written all over Asher. I could see it and I could hear him swearing and wanting to counter my word. But he said nothing .
Downstairs, the night air was cold. Black SUVs were idling like crouching beasts, their engines a low hum against the pavement. Asher watched from the lobby, his silhouette lethal and lonely under the harsh fluorescent lights. He looked like a king who had found his crown only to realize it was made of salt.
I hailed a private car service through an encrypted app, refusing the door his guards held open. As we pulled away, I looked back. Asher was standing on the sidewalk, his eyes never leaving the car.
"Mama?" Leo whispered, tugging at my sleeve as the city lights blurred past. "Is that the man from the bad dreams? The one you said was a ghost?"
I pulled him closer, kissing the top of his head. "No, baby. Ghosts can't hurt us. He's just... someone I used to know."
But I was lying. To him once again and to myself.
I pulled out my phone to check the remote feed of St. Jude's. I needed to see that the hospital was still standing, that my world was still under my control. But as the screen loaded, my blood turned to ice.
The screen wasn't showing my office. It was showing a live feed of the hospital's VIP trauma wing.
Smoke was billowing from the vents. The emergency lights were flashing a rhythmic, bloody red. Nurses were running in the hallways, and the "Miracle Worker's" operating suite—my sanctuary—was being torn apart by men in the same tactical masks I had seen in my penthouse.
My phone vibrated. A new message from an unknown number:
"The hotel is lovely, Chloe. But you left your heart at the hospital. Should we start with the Asher's brother, or the records?"
"Turn the car around," I told the driver, my voice trembling with a mixture of rage and terror.
"Ma'am? We're almost at the Saint Regis—"
"I said turn it around!" I screamed.
The driver swerved, tires screeching as we pulled a U-turn. I looked at Leo, then at the burning towers of the hospital in the distance.
I had been so busy fighting Asher that I'd walked straight into the Shadow's trap. He didn't want my son yet. He wanted to strip away everything that made me "Dr. Valentine." He wanted to leave me with nothing but the name Chloe.
"Mama, why are we going back?" Leo asked, his voice small.
"We aren't going back, Leo," I whispered. On second thought, I ordered the driver to turn back again and head straight to the hotel, reaching for my phone. I hit the dial.
"Asher," I said when the line picked up on the first ring. "Quickly, go over to your brother. He is in danger. There are some men there and they are heading to him right now."
*******