Chapter 28
Bang!
The sound echoed off the walls, then died just as quickly, leaving everything frozen in its wake.
The man jerked. Those icy blue eyes, so controlled just moments ago, flickered with raw terror.
Olivia didn’t move. She kept the gun trained on him.
Strangely, there wasn't a flicker of fear in her chest. The weapon didn’t feel strange in her grip either. It rested perfectly in her hand, like it was part of her.
“This is my first time carrying a gun today,” she told him softly, but the look in her eyes was anything but gentle.
A cold, dangerous glint flashed in them.
It was sharp enough to send a chill crawling down the spine of anyone who noticed.
“But the next bullet won’t miss. It goes right to your ass.
” Olivia added. It was a warning, one she gave for his sake.
Her duty as a Doctor was to treat injuries, not cause them. But protecting her patients came first, and if it came down to it, she wouldn’t hesitate.
Olivia knew one thing with absolute certainty. Distance didn’t matter. Size didn’t matter. Once she aimed, the target was as good as hit.
It was a skill she had already proven at the shooting range she often visited in secret.
“You’re crazy,” the man muttered under his breath, cutting her train of thoughts.
Olivia tilted her head. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled. Her finger shifted slightly against the trigger. The movement was subtle, but his breath hitched anyway.
“If I were crazy, you’d already be on the floor, and I’d be explaining to the nurses why there’s a new hole in the wall,” her eyes surveyed him from head to toe. “And in your body.”
She took a slow step forward. The man instinctively stepped back, the color draining from his face. His lips parting in a shallow, unsteady breath.
A dark patch began to spread down the front of his pants.
It took only a second for Olivia to understand what was happening.
He had actually peed his pants.
Finally, the door opened and a nurse entered the room. Her shoes squeaked lightly against the polished floor while she hummed a song under her breath.
A clipboard rested in her hand. She was so focused on what she was reading that she didn’t notice what was happening until she looked up.
The clipboard hit the tiled floor with a sharp clatter. Her fists tightened until her knuckles turned white, confirming that what she was seeing wasn’t just in her mind.
Her gaze moved from the trembling man, to the gun in Olivia’s hand.
“Oh my God, Dr. Hilton!”
Olivia didn’t even glance away from the man. “Call security,” she ordered. “And the police.”
The nurse turned and hurried out of the room. The door swung shut behind her. Moments later, it opened again.
This time, two security personnel stepped in first, followed by the nurse. One of the personnel was a tall man in his forties with a broad build and an easygoing personality that didn’t quite match his size. His eyes flicked to Olivia, then to the man. Then, surprisingly, he smiled a little.
“Dr. Hilton, you really do have a natural talent for catching bad guys.” He paused, hesitating as he searched for a way to phrase his next words without offending her.
“Honestly, you should’ve been a detective…
or maybe even a police officer.” There was a hint of humor in his voice, but also respect.
He wasn’t joking about the situation, just acknowledging something everyone in the hospital already knew.
This wasn’t the first time a situation like this had happened.
The younger security officer, about Olivia’s age, met her gaze and gave a steady, reassuring nod. “Dr. Hilton, you’re good. We’ve got it from here.”
Olivia kept her guard up, refusing to relax. She didn’t lower her weapon until the security personnel had removed the concealed gun from the man’s belt and locked his wrists in handcuffs.
They walked to the door, and the younger personnel pushed it open.
The man in handcuffs almost tripped in his hurry to get through it. If not for the firm grip on his arm, he might have fallen flat on his face.
Olivia blinked. She had never seen someone so eager to be arrested.
The older security officer lingered by the door, one hand resting on the handle. A trace of amusement twinkled in his jet-black eyes.
“You scared him so bad. He actually peed his pants, Madam.”
Heat rushed to Olivia’s cheeks, spreading up to the tips of her ears. She could already imagine the story making its rounds by the end of the day. It would be the talk of the whole hospital for a week.
“I didn’t mean to scare him.”
In her defense, she had only threatened the man to stop him from making drastic decisions that they would both regret.
“Maybe not,” he shrugged, pulling the door open with a soft creak, “but you definitely did a good job of it.” He glanced back at her, adding a small, knowing wink before stepping out into the hall.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the room quiet once more.
Sighing, her eyes settled on the patient lying peacefully in the bed.
It didn’t matter how things had turned out, or how messy or embarrassing it might become. None of that truly mattered.
She stepped closer and lowered her voice to a gentle whisper. “At least you’re safe,” she murmured. “That makes all of this worth it.”
—
The police arrived sooner than Olivia expected. She was at the front desk, speaking with a nurse and giving instructions about a patient, when the glass doors of the hospital slid open.
Two tall men in dark uniforms stepped inside, immediately drawing her attention.
“Excuse me.” She stepped away from the desk, smoothing down the front of her coat without realizing she was doing it.
“Officers.”
They gave her a nod. One of them, slightly taller with observant eyes and an intimidating presence, seemed to be the one in charge. The other stood just behind him.
“This way, please.”
Olivia led them down the corridor. Nurses glanced up as they passed, their eyes lingering a moment too long while a meaningful smile graced their lips. She returned each one with a brief, awkward curve of her lips.
By now, Olivia could tell from the glances alone that the story had already spread: she had frightened a fully grown man so badly that he had soiled his pants.
And judging by the looks she was getting, no one was going to let her forget it anytime soon.
At last, they reached Dr. Wilson’s office.
She looked around for Dr. Wilson, but it seemed he hadn’t returned from his rounds yet.
“Please, have a seat.”
Once the men were settled, Olivia moved toward the small side table where refreshments were displayed. “Would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee?”
The one in charge shook his head. “Please don't bother.” He took out his notebook so they could begin. “Whenever you’re ready, Madam.”
Olivia sat down opposite them. “So this is what happened…”
She replayed the entire incident in her mind and told them everything, step by step, without leaving out a single detail.
The officer listened quietly, not once interrupting her. Every so often, he would look up to study her face as if trying to read what lay behind her words, before lowering his gaze to continue taking notes.
“And after that?” he asked when she finished.
Olivia gave a small shrug. “After that, the security personnel stepped in to contain the situation. The person involved is currently being held at the hospital security office.”
The officer nodded again, still writing. “We will take over from here. If the patient’s family wants to file charges—which they likely will, given the extent of what happened—they can proceed to the police station.” He capped his pen and closed his notebook.
When he looked up again, his gaze was assessing. She met his eyes without flinching.
“Do doctors usually walk around carrying firearms?” He paused, adding apologetically, “I mean… isn’t it uncomfortable?”
Olivia had been waiting for that question. She had expected it the moment she decided to sit down. Her answer came without hesitation. “It’s actually my first time bringing a firearm to work. It never even crossed my mind that I would use it today.”
“My husband was the one who insisted I bring it,” she continued, a little embarrassed to share the small details of her life. “He said I might come across a lunatic—which I thought was crazy—and that I would need it to protect myself, if necessary.”
“Good for him. Your husband proved to be right. But may I ask, do you have a legal permit?”
Olivia didn’t say a word and simply handed him the folded paper she had brought with her.
He took it, flipping through the documents with practiced ease. His eyes scanned each page, checking names, dates, and signatures.
After a moment, he seemed satisfied and handed the papers back to her.
“You mentioned your husband,” his tone shifted from formal to friendly. “Is he the one who taught you how to use a gun?”
“Yes,” she replied.
But it was only partly true.
Clayton had trained her after she finally gave in to his persistent insistence. But what she didn’t tell him was that she had already known how to shoot long before that.
Olivia often slipped away in secret to shooting ranges, not to train, but to release the pent-up stress from both work and home, especially whenever her husband was away on military deployments.
When the pressure built too tightly in her chest, when the world felt like it was closing in around her, she went there to let it all out.
It was the only place where she could control something when everything else in her life felt out of control.
The officer’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “So… how good are you with a gun?”
A subtle smile touched the corner of her lips. “I don’t miss,” she said evenly. “Once I aim, it’s as good as a hit.”
—
“Thank you for your time, Dr. Hilton. We got all the details we needed.”
Olivia offered the officer a polite smile. A wave of relief rushed through her. It was finally over. She could go back to her rounds, and if she was lucky, steal a bit of rest before her next surgery.
“You don’t have to thank me, sir. It’s my obligation.”
A sudden awareness prickled at the back of her neck—the unmistakable feeling of being watched. She stood up. A smile still lingered on her lips, but it faded in an instant when she turned toward the door.
Her breath hitched. She was certain she hadn’t heard any sound. And yet, Clayton was there, leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were fixed on her.
Olivia tried to read his expression, but it was like looking through a book written in a different language. She couldn’t tell if he was angry, impressed, or quietly simmering with something in between.
The officer noticed the change in her demeanor. His gaze followed hers, landing on Clayton. For a second, he looked genuinely startled. Then he rose abruptly from his seat. The other officer, who had remained silent the entire time, followed suit almost immediately.
Clayton didn’t acknowledge them. He kept looking at her. And then it hit her—he had heard every word.
Heat rushed to her cheeks.
She straightened, forcing composure back into her posture. She had survived far worse humiliation than this. He had seen her at her lowest. He had been there during the worst breakup of her life, when her heart broke into a thousand irreparable pieces. Compared to that, this was nothing.
Her temples scrunched into a frown. “Since when do you stand by doors without announcing yourself?”
Clayton tilted his head defiantly. “Since I heard from the staff that you scared the hell out of a man—he wet his pants.” There wasn’t a trace of humor in his voice. Perhaps she imagined it, but she swore she saw a hint of worry cross his eyes before it faded without a trace.
Olivia turned to the officers to apologize, but they were too busy staring at Clayton with undisguised awe to even notice her embarrassment.
She recognized that look immediately. She had seen it before on both men and women, directed at him like he was a legendary icon, someone to be admired from a distance.
“Officers, I’d like you to meet my husband—”
“General Clayton Bradford!”
The previously silent officer cut in, unable to contain himself anymore. His voice carried a note of boyish excitement, like someone meeting his childhood superhero.
“The youngest man to ever become a general in the country. Men in our profession look up to you. I never thought I’d meet you in person, Sir.” He added breathlessly.
The scene had played out more times than Olivia could count. It didn’t matter where they were. Recognition followed Clayton everywhere.
In restaurants, conversations would falter the moment he stepped inside. Public spaces were no different. Strangers stole glances; some gathered the nerve to approach, while others lingered at a distance, content just to watch.
She had long since grown used to it.
Clayton inclined his head slightly, the smile on his lips turning almost self-conscious.
“You’re giving me far more credit than I deserve, officer. I’ve only ever done my job. Same as you do.”
He stepped closer and extended his hand. The officer took it quickly, gripping it with both hands as if afraid the moment might slip away.
Clayton extended the same handshake to the other officer, who, unlike his partner, managed to contain his excitement with visible effort.
“It’s an honor, sir.”
Clayton stepped back. Then, as if remembering why he was there, he inquired. “So, did my wife cause some kind of trouble?”
Both officers shook their heads quickly.
“No, sir. Not at all,” the one in charge answered. “We were just asking routine questions.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Well… we won’t take any more of your time. We have to take the man to the station and file a report.”
His partner nodded in agreement. “Sir. Ma’am. Thank you again.”
The officers gave one last respectful nod before walking out the door. The moment they stepped out, silence filled the room.
Clayton walked past her without waiting for a reply and pulled out one of the chairs. He sat down with easy familiarity, leaning back slightly, one arm draped over the backrest like this wasn’t her workspace, but his.
Olivia watched him, lips pressing into a thin line.
“You are a trouble magnet.”
She shot him a look but didn’t argue. Because, annoyingly, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
“Tell me, how did you know that the man would try to kill his wife?”
Olivia walked over to the table, picking up a file just to have something in her hands. She flipped it open, though she wasn’t really reading it. She just wanted to avoid his intimidating gaze.
“Because he’s having an affair with his wife’s co-teacher,” she replied.
“And how could you be so sure?" he asked, a deep frown settling between his temples.
Olivia finally looked up at him, one brow lifting slightly. She had momentarily forgotten he was the type who needed solid, verifiable details before accepting anything as fact.
“Because only lovers get matching couple tattoos.”
It was his turn to raise his brows. “Explain.”
“He had a ‘King’ tattoo on his arm, and the other woman had the same tattoo style. Except hers was a ‘Queen.’”
“And you connected the dots?”
Olivia gave a small shrug. “It wasn’t hard. Matching tattoos like that? People don’t get them casually. And definitely not with someone they’re not involved with.”
His expression darkened, a flicker of suppressed fury tightening his jaw. “So, knowing his wife is in a coma, he thought it was the perfect opportunity to eliminate her—because the coward couldn’t even admit to her face that he was having an affair.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “That’s exactly it.”
Clayton rose from his seat and crossed the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps.
Olivia’s breath caught when he stopped inches away from her. Without a word, he gently took the file from her hand and set it aside.
Then he stepped even closer until she felt the warmth of his body pressing against hers. His hand came up, fingers lightly tilting her chin so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.
For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.
But he didn’t.
He only looked at her quietly, as if trying to uncover a part of her she refused to show anyone. The intensity of his stare made her increasingly uncomfortable.
Just when she thought he might keep staring forever, he opened his lips.
“You have no idea how much it scares me every time you throw yourself into danger.”
There was a clear strain in his eyes, almost like he was holding himself together by force. And seeing that flicker of hurt in him, Olivia felt a twist in her chest.