The hospital smelled of antiseptic and fear. Elena burst into the ward, chest heaving, hair tangled from running. She asked the receptionist for Ms. Maria cruz.
She was directed to where her aunt was.
She found her aunt pale and trembling on the bed, hooked up to an IV.
"Auntie!" Elena cried, rushing to her side.
Her aunt smiled faintly, eyes shining with tears. "Where were you last night … my sweet girl."
Elena grabbed her hand, pressing it to her cheek. " Why didn't you call me? I was so scared Elena!"
A doctor entered, holding a chart. His expression was grave.
"Who are you to her?,
I'm her niece!
"She needs surgery. Immediately. If the paymentis not made soon, we won't be able to save her."
Elena felt the floor tilt beneath her. Her fingers clutched at her aunt's frail hand as if letting go would mean losing her forever. "Surgery? Money? I don't—" Her words broke into sobs.
Her aunt lifted her other hand weakly, brushing Elena's hair back from her face. "Don't cry, child. I've lived long enough. Don't suffer for me."
"Don't say that!" Elena begged, her tears streaming freely now. "You're all I have! I can't lose you too!"
Her aunt smiled through her own tears. "And you are all I have. But I won't let you throw yourself into darkness for my sake."
They clung to each other, their tears mingling, the hospital walls closing in like a cage.
***
The warehouse stank of oil, rust, and fear. Chains rattled against the damp concrete walls as the landlord's muffled groans echoed in the air. His shirt was torn, his face swollen from the relentless blows of Damian's men. Blood dripped steadily from his lip, pooling beneath his knees as he begged.
"Please… please, I swear I didn't mean—"
A single pair of footsteps cut him off. They were calm, deliberate, carrying a weight that made every man in the room stiffen.
Damian Voss stepped out of the shadows. His black shirt clung to his body, the silver watch on his wrist catching the dim light. His presence sucked the oxygen out of the room. The landlord froze when his eyes met Damian's—eyes sharp and merciless, eyes that promised death.
Damian's voice was calm, almost conversational. "Did you try…" He paused, leaning forward, "…to have your way with my cupcake?"
The word lingered in the air, soft yet lethal.
"No, sir! No, please—" the man stammered, his whole body trembling. "I didn't touch her, I swear!"
A cruel smile ghosted over Damian's lips. "You had the audacity to think about it." He snapped his fingers.
Two of his men dragged the landlord upright, forcing him to his knees. The sound of a whip cracked through the warehouse, followed by the man's scream.
Damian watched, expressionless, as blow after blow landed. The landlord's pleas turned into incoherent sobs, but Damian didn't flinch.
His men dragged the half-conscious landlord away, leaving silence behind.
***
The city streets were crueler at night. Elena walked aimlessly, clutching her worn handbag like it was all she had left. Her shoes scraped against the pavement, her knees giving out until she dropped onto the cold ground.
She wept openly, not caring who saw. "God, what do I do? Auntie… I can't lose you too. I can't."
Her sobs were broken, raw, her heart shattering with every thought of the hospital bills. She pressed her face into her palms, unaware that eyes were watching her from across the street.
A shadow fell over her.
She looked up through blurry vision to see a man in a dark suit. His expression was unreadable, his hand holding out a sleek black file.
"What… what is this?" she whispered, voice hoarse.
"A solution," the man replied smoothly. "Sign this paper, and your aunt's life will be saved. The money will appear, the doctors will move immediately. No more crying on the streets."
Elena blinked at him, heart pounding. "Who… who sent you?"
"Does it matter?" His eyes glinted with something sharp. "Do you want her to live, or do you want her to die in that hospital bed?"
Her throat tightened. "But… I don't have a pen, I don't—"
The man flicked open a sleek silver pen and held it out. "Just sign."
Her trembling hands clutched the pen. "I… I should read—"
"Every second you waste," the man cut her off, his voice dropping low, "your aunt's chances shrink. Do you really want her last moments to be filled with your hesitation?"
Her chest constricted, her tears falling faster. Without another thought, blinded by desperation, Elena scribbled her name across the paper.
The man smiled faintly, snapping the file shut. "Good girl."
As he walked away, he pulled out his phone and dialed. "It's done, sir," he said as he slid into a black car. "She signed."
Elena raced back to the hospital, hope surging in her chest despite the hollow ache inside. She burst through the doors, her breath ragged.
The same doctor who had been cold before now greeted her with a smile that felt almost rehearsed. "Ah, Miss Elena. Everything is settled. We'll begin the operation immediately."
Her eyes widened. "O–operation? Already?"
"Yes. Funds were cleared. The best team is preparing as we speak."
Elena stood frozen, her mind spinning. She couldn't process it. All she knew was that something had shifted—suddenly, people were treating her with respect, as though she mattered.
She rushed to her aunt's side. Her aunt lay weak but managed a fragile smile when Elena burst into the room.
"They said… they'll operate," Elena whispered, clutching her aunt's hand. "You'll be okay, Auntie. You'll be okay."
Her aunt touched her cheek, her voice faint. "But how, Elena? How did you…?"
Elena shook her head quickly, forcing a smile though her stomach twisted with unease. "Don't worry about it. Just focus on getting better."