She woke up to the sterile, suffocating air of the private VIP suite.

Every bone in her body ached with a dull, throbbing misery. Her torso was buried under thick layers of medical gauze, and the room was heavy with a clinical, oppressive silence. Only the steady, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor broke the stillness.

Maya strained her fingers to hit the call button.

She waited—so long that she nearly drifted back into a daze—before the door finally swung open. A nurse stood there, her expression a mask of annoyance.

"What do you need now?"

"Water..." Maya’s throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper.

The nurse rolled her eyes, grabbed a glass, and filled it with ice water. She slammed it onto the bedside table with such force that the liquid sloshed over the rim.

"Drink it and quit hitting the button. I’m in the middle of a shift change!"

With a sharp click of her heels, she marched out.

Maya stared at the glass, then at the closed door. A bitter realization took root. This was a Meyer-owned hospital. If Callahan wanted her treated like a ghost, why would his staff bother with basic decency? She was his fiancée in name only, and apparently, that counted for nothing.

She lay still, enduring the pain and the thirst in silence.

The next few days were a blur of cold food and rough hands. The nurses rarely answered her calls, and when they did drift into her room, they didn’t bother to hide their chatter.

"Did you hear? The girl in 302 is Alexandria Rodriguez. She’s an angel. So kind."

"Oh, I know. Callahan’s with her every single day. He’s completely devoted."

"We need to prioritize her care. Keep Mr. Meyer happy, and a promotion might finally be in the cards."

Then, a voice dipped, sneering. "Unlike that one in here. She brought this on herself. Does she really think she’s still some high-and-mighty debutante?"

Maya listened, her expression vacant.

That afternoon, a nurse came to check the IV. She moved with careless, jagged motions. As she turned to leave, her cart caught the tubing, giving it a violent yank.

"Ah!"

The needle tore clean out of Maya's vein. Dark beads of blood blossomed across her hand, and the sudden jerk sent Maya tumbling off the bed. She hit the floor with a sickening, jarring thud.

Pain, white-hot and blinding, flared from her ribs.

The two nurses glanced back at her. Instead of helping, they looked irritated.

"Watch what you’re doing! We’re behind schedule getting Miss Alexandria’s snacks. If you cause a delay, you're the one who’s going to hear about it!"

They shoved their cart forward and walked out without a second look.

Maya lay on the cold floor, unable to draw a breath. She tried to push herself up, but her strength was gone.

Then, the door opened.

Callahan Meyer stepped in.

His gaze snapped to her on the floor, and his expression twisted into pure fury. He was at her side in two long strides. "Maya! What happened?!"

He gathered her up, his touch firm as he maneuvered her back onto the bed. When he saw the blood on her hand and the look of agony etched into her features, he slammed his palm onto the call button.

He pivoted toward the nurses—who had only just reached the doorway—his voice a low, terrifying vibration of cold rage. "What the hell is going on here?! Is this how you treat a patient?!"

The nurses turned deathly pale, stammering for excuses that weren't coming.

Maya leaned against his chest. She caught the scent of his sharp, pine-heavy cologne, masked by the cloying, sweet perfume that always clung to Alexandria.

"It’s nothing," she said, her voice faint but steady. "They just bumped into me, and I fell."

Callahan stiffened, looking down at her.

There was no accusation in her eyes. No plea for pity. Just a calm, detached statement of fact. It hit him like a physical blow.

He turned back to the nurses, his voice freezing over. "Get to HR. Hand in your resignation. And tell the head nurse that there will be a full investigation of this wing. If I hear of anyone being mistreated again, every single person on this floor is out of a job."

The nurses fled in tears.

The doctor arrived shortly after to dress her hand and confirm her ribs were intact. Once he left, they were alone again.

Callahan sat on the edge of the bed. He watched her, his gaze dark and unreadable. He reached out to brush a lock of hair from her face, but his hand hung in the air for a moment, trembling, before he pulled back and simply tucked the blanket around her.

"Have they been doing this... the whole time?" he asked, his voice raspy. "Why didn't you tell me? I was right in the next room... with Alexandria. I know I haven't been here for you, but you could have called for me."

Maya closed her eyes.

"There was no point."