53. -52-
Dorian
My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as I maneuvered the car into the private parking spot behind the hospital. I was so lost in my thoughts that without the loud sensors, I would’ve crashed a few times.
Last night was a fucking disaster that I couldn’t get out of my head.
My brothers dropped a bomb on Nina and me, but I was particularly pissed at myself.
If I hadn’t left the family business, I would’ve known about it.
I could’ve prepared her, protected her. Instead, all I could do was process the shock.
“Fucking Giovanni Valentino!”
I slammed my hand against the steering wheel. The idiot put a target on Nina’s back and turned her into a fucking commodity. As if she meant nothing! If the asshole weren’t already dead, I would’ve done even worse things to him than the first time.
After we returned home, I caught Nina secretly wiping her tears in the bathroom.
She was hurt, and I could do nothing about it because she wouldn’t let me.
She ran away from Zyon’s house like someone was chasing her.
And when I tried to talk and be the support she clearly needed, all I got was silence.
Her rejection stung. I understood the news was alarming and scary, but I wasn’t going anywhere. We were in it together. So why the hell did she have to do it all alone?
Well, not alone. Because she called her friend, Lucas, in the middle of the night instead of sharing her thoughts with me.
At first, I almost barged into the guest room, snatched the phone from her ear, and broke it in half. But then I heard her wretched voice and couldn’t make myself disturb her. She finally opened up after hours of pretending she was okay.
Just not to me.
“Dorian, sweetheart, are you with me?”
I flinched, blinking rapidly at my mom’s concerned face. We were in my office, and she stood before me with her hands on my shoulders, studying me closely.
“Did you hear me?” she asked, her hand cupping my chin.
“Yes, Mom, sorry,” I mumbled. “Just a tough night.” I gently wiggled from her hold, trying to remember how I got into my office. But my memory was blank.
“You’re back early.” I placed my briefcase on my desk and plopped into my chair. “Is everything okay in Chicago?”
“Technically yes.” She waved her hand elegantly and sat opposite me. “I came to visit you straight from the airport with news about the adoption.”
That directed my attention away from Nina for the first time in hours.
“What is it?” I prompted her, moving the papers and medical reports aside. “Come on, speak.”
“Without coffee?” She raised a brow, pulling on my tense nerves.
“I only have whiskey and vodka here,” I grumbled, turning in my office chair toward the hidden shelf. “Which one?”
“None!” She raised her voice, appalled. “It’s eight in the morning.”
“Okay, okay,” I mumbled, placing a plastic bottle of sparkling water and a glass before her. “Better?”
“Not so much.” Her nose wrinkled. “Give me vodka.”
A laugh spilled out of me. Of course, she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to brighten her day.
“So, the adoption,” I reminded her of why she'd come, impatiently tapping my fingers on my thigh. “Tell me the steps.”
“First,” Mom said carefully, watching me over the rim of her glass. “How long have you known this little girl?”
“Aryna,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “A few weeks. Why?”
“A few weeks,” she repeated, ignoring my question. I already hated where this conversation was going.
“She’s not safe in the system,” I claimed, my heart picking up speed. “No one visits her. She’s completely alone.” My chest squeezed. “And she trusts me.”
A smile tugged at Mom’s lips.
“Of course, she does.” She set the glass aside. “You’re amazing with kids.”
My shoulders loosened slightly.
“Then what’s the problem?” I asked, my hand clutching the armrest.
“The problem?” Mom tilted her head. “Sweetheart, I think you should apply for guardianship.”
“What?” I blinked. “I thought…”
“You heard me.” She smiled warmly while I simply stared at her.
“You agree?” I mumbled, unsure whether my brain was working. I had already prepared for an argument.
“Of course I agree.” She looked genuinely offended. “The child adores you. You adore her. You’re stable, responsible, and stubborn enough to fight the entire system if necessary.”
A flicker of triumph warmed my chest.
“But,” she added, casting me a pointed look.
Theeeere it was.
“My concern isn’t whether you should do it.” Her expression softened. “It’s why you’re trying to do it so fast.”
“She’s already been through enough,” I ground out, the warm, victorious feeling vanishing. “I won’t let anyone hurt her again.”
“I understand, sweetheart,” Mom said, her gentle voice calming me exactly as it did when I was a little boy and had terrible nightmares. Still, my jaw clenched. I didn’t think she understood at all, but then she reached across the desk and squeezed my hand.
“Dorian, look at me.” Reluctantly, I did. “I think that little girl would be lucky to have you.” The knot in my chest loosened a tiny bit. “But you’re talking about forever after a few weeks.”
I looked away, my mind instantly jumping to Nina. If Mom thought a few weeks was fast, my marriage would probably give her a stroke.
“You get attached too quickly when you’re scared,” she continued, forcing my attention back to her.
“I’m not scared,” I said through gritted teeth, and a sad smile crossed her face.
“Sweetheart.” She squeezed my hand again. “You can’t save everyone.”
The words landed like a punch. Abruptly, I pulled my hand free and walked to the window.
“This isn’t about that.”
“No?” She raised a doubtful brow. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Mom,” I grumbled, staring outside at the cloudy sky that reflected my mood perfectly. Behind me, I heard her sigh.
“I really hope so.”
My shift was as calm as a trauma surgeon’s shift could be.
The scheduled surgeries went smoothly, keeping me from thinking about Nina and Aryna, and nothing unexpected happened.
The emergency department remained unusually quiet.
The only patient of note was a drunk guy sobering up after being found asleep behind a gas station with a twisted ankle and a scrape on his head.
I signed charts, filled out paperwork, and reviewed scans for tomorrow’s surgeries, desperately trying to distract myself from the conversation in my brother’s office.
Meanwhile, Melody marched up and down the hallways, repeatedly checking her watch as if she expected a tornado to hit Manhattan at any moment.
By noon, the most exciting thing that happened was Mrs. Jenkins throwing a pudding cup at a resident, closely followed by a teenager who swallowed a battery.
Under normal circumstances, I would’ve called it a good day. Today, it was torture until the head nurse handed me a chart.
“Room 6, kitchen accident,” she reported, and I smiled.
“My favorite.”
As I took the file, the name immediately caught my attention.
Carlile, Sonny.
Well, well, well. The demon reared his nasty head. Isn’t this a lovely coincidence?
“It sure is,” I mumbled under my breath and entered the room.
Carlile sat on the bed, holding a bloody towel around his right hand. The moment he saw me, surprise flashed across his face, followed by a brief hint of unease. But then, his shoulders relaxed.
“Doctor Zhumagulov.” He smiled. “Thank God. Someone competent.”
I smiled back.
“What happened?” I closed the door behind me and put gloves on.
“Glass shattered while I was opening a bottle.” He lifted his bleeding hand. “Everything is against me today.”
You have no idea, the demon grinned, baring his teeth.
“Let me see.” I sat before him and examined the injury. The cut wasn’t terrible, but it required a few stitches. “You should be more careful.”
“Yeah.” He stared at my fingers as I picked up a scalpel. “What are you going to do with that?” He tensed, his eyes jumping from it to my face.
“Treat the wound,” I replied matter-of-factly, grasping his injured hand. I pushed it down against the metal counter, the tools clattering with the impact.
“Hey!” Carlile yelled, trying to free himself. “What are you doing?”
“Treating. The. Wound.” I repeated in a grave voice, sticking the scalpel inside the torn flesh.
“What? Aaaaaaaah!”
The blade pierced straight through his palm, and blood immediately welled around it before spilling over the side of his hand. A thin stream ran down his wrist, dripping onto the metal counter beneath it.
“You maniac!” he screamed. “What are…”
He trailed off as I twisted the scalpel, my gaze set on his pale, scrunched face.
“I told you I’d cut off your hand,” I snarled, dragging the blade sideways, widening the wound. His breathing turned ragged, sweat breaking across his forehead as his entire body shook from the pain. “Are you enjoying it?”
“No! Stop!” he groaned loudly. “Please!”
“What the hell?”
My head whipped toward the door. Melody stood on the threshold, her eyes wide with shock.
“Leave!” I ordered, giving her a pointed look, but she hesitated, glancing between the horrific scene and me.
“Melody!” I raised my voice to catch her attention. “Leave and send Sasha here!”
She slowly nodded, her hand trembling on the door handle.
“Just—”
“Leave for Christ’s sake!” I hollered. She ran out of the room, effectively waking me from my daze. I was set on at least cutting a few of Sonny’s fingers off as a punishment for touching Nina, but this was my hospital. He could cause scandal I didn’t need.
I looked at his disgusting face, tears and snot mixing on his chin. He cried like a baby, holding his injured forearm with his healthy one.
Continue, the demon whispered, clouding my judgment. Make him pay.
I twisted the blade again, drawing a gut-wrenching shriek from him. His entire body jerked violently, his legs kicking against the bed as more screams tore from his throat.
“P-please!” he cried, and I abruptly let him go. He fell back on the bed, pulling his knees to his chest, clutching the bleeding palm.
“Fucking bastard,” I barked, throwing the gloves into the bin.
With a few long strides, I pushed the door open and found an anxious Melody and Sasha in the hall.
“Call the clean-up team,” I commanded my bodyguard. “Tell them to advise Mr. Carlile to keep his mouth shut.”
Sasha nodded and pulled out his phone.
“Do you wish to help him?” I raised a brow at Melody, who kept glancing behind my back.
“He’s injured.” Her teeth sank into her lower lip. But years of working by my side taught her to be vigilant about my motives for hurting someone at work.
“He abuses women,” I revealed, opening the door for her. “Go there and help him if you want. I won’t stop you.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” I shrugged, knowing too well her father beat the crap out of her mother daily for fifteen years. “Listen to your doctor's instinct and fix his hand so he can punch another woman.”
She took a step back, blinking rapidly.
“It’s not right,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “We’re doctors.”
“Then.” I nodded toward Sonny’s quivering form. “Go help him. I’m going to check on Aryna.”
Without another word, I headed to the nurse’s desk, placed Aryna’s chart under my arm, and walked to the cafeteria to buy a chocolate cake. I needed to bribe her to stay still while I examined her wounds.
Adrenaline was still pumping through my veins when I walked through the halls to her room, but I pushed Carlile out of my mind. I had more important things to focus on than him—for example, Aryna’s health.
Her body was healing nicely, and the discharge day was getting closer. But my stomach knotted at the mere thought of letting her go, and questions plagued my mind.
Where would she go?
Would they place her into another foster family?
I knew the kids from the previous one were moved to an orphanage after Malin anonymously sent the evidence about the abuse to the social workers. But I didn’t want that for Aryna.
The thought sat in my chest like a stone. My angel was a frightened little girl who tried to be brave every time I entered her room. However, she needed someone to protect her and to give her a loving home.
Every instinct in me insisted that person was me. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe I was getting attached too fast. But I didn’t care.
“Hey, angel,” I greeted, my lips instantly stretching into a wide grin when I saw Aryna cuddling a huge teddy bear I’d bought her.
“Hello,” she chirped, sitting up too fast and instantly whining in pain. “Oww.” She pressed her hand to her tummy, her coral-blue eyes filling with tears.
“Easy,” I soothed, rushing to her. Gently, I removed her hand and examined the injury. “You need to be careful. We practiced sitting up, remember?”
“I’m sorry,” she muffled a sob, curling her tiny hands around her exposed torso. “I forgot.”
“It’s okay.” I brushed her golden locks away from her face, smiling softly. “I brought you a cake and a new book, but,” I paused dramatically, raising an index finger, “I need to check all the bandages first.”
“It will hurt.” Her mouth turned downward in a pout.
“It won’t,” I promised, moving the bear away because I had no place to sit. “And then I’ll read you a story. We’ll have a nice afternoon.” I wiggled my brows playfully, finally pulling a smile from her. “Deal?”
Aryna nodded, her gaze darting toward the enormous piece of cake.
“Bandages first,” I reminded her gently but firmly, carefully removing the one on her forearm.
In fifteen minutes, we were done, and I was comfortably seated in the armchair I smuggled into the room from my office. Aryna sat on my lap, discussing the colors of the rainbow, successfully diverting my mind from Carlile, Nina, and my brothers.
She was the light. My light.
“Dorian?” Aryna disturbed my thoughts, pointing at the man and the girl in the book. “He isn’t her dad, but she calls him ‘Daddy.’ Why?”
I looked at the picture. My little patient was very observant, and since she’d come into the hospital, she’d improved so much at reading that she read stories to me, not the other way around.
“Because he loves her very much,” I replied, my arm instinctively curling tighter around her.
“Like a real daddy?” She looked at me with wide eyes.
“Exactly like a real daddy,” I confirmed with a smile, but she sighed heavily. “What’s wrong, angel?”
She shook her head and pressed her lips into a thin line.
“Aryna.” I took her chin between my thumb and index finger. “What’s wrong?”
“I love you,” she whispered, my heart skipping a beat in surprise, “like you are my real daddy.”
“I love you, too, angel,” I said without hesitation, wrapping my arms around her when she curled up on my chest.
“You won’t leave me?” she mumbled, clutching my scrubs with her small hands.
The decision was made in a millisecond.
“Never.”