A week had passed.
One morning, an envelope appeared on her desk, crisp and formal, unlike the usual hospital correspondence. She opened it carefully.
"You are hereby reassigned as a private nurse. The patient details will be provided upon acceptance."
Riah frowned, her fingers tightening around the paper. She confirmed with the head of the department, but the patient's identity remained unknown. The offer was tempting: the pay was almost ten times her current salary. But she hesitated. She couldn't leave her patients, the ones she had promised to care for. Not just for money.
She decided to decline.
Riah hadn't received a single message from Lucian. Not one text, not a call, not even the faintest sign that he still existed beyond her thoughts. She told herself he had vanished for a reason—that his world was complicated, that silence was sometimes safer than truth. Still, the quiet gnawed at her, settling deep in her chest like something unfinished.
Work became her refuge. Long shifts at the hospital kept her hands busy and her mind occupied, even as exhaustion hollowed her out. She cared for patients with her usual precision, but the ache inside her never quite eased.
Then the call came.
Her mother had collapsed at home.
Her world tilted.
Riah's legs carried her faster than her mind could process, tears streaming down her face, the sound of her own breathing, sharp and frantic, and the way her hands shook as she pushed through the ward doors.
She reached the ward to find her mother pale, fragile, and in pain.
tubes running from her arms, monitors beeping softly beside her.
The doctors didn't sugarcoat it.
Stage three diabetes.
It had progressed far more aggressively than anyone expected. Infection had spread, circulation was poor, and if treatment didn't begin immediately, amputation was no longer a distant possibility—it was imminent.
Riah felt the floor tilt beneath her.
She signed forms with numb fingers, emptied her savings without hesitation, counted money that suddenly felt insultingly small. It wasn't enough. Not even close.
Days bled into weeks. Riah slept in chairs, showered when she remembered, lived on hospital coffee and quiet prayers she wasn't sure anyone was listening to. Asking for help went against everything she believed about herself—but this wasn't pride anymore. This was her mother's life.
That was when she remembered the letter.
The private nurse offer.
She retrieved it from her bag with trembling hands, rereading the words she had once been ready to refuse.
Reassignment as a private nurse. Patient details disclosed upon contract return.
This time, she didn't hesitate, she signed.
The following morning, a text notification lit up her phone.
Payment confirmed.
Riah stared at the figure, blinking once. Then twice.
Her breath caught.
The amount was staggering—heavy, unreal, more than she made in months compressed into a single transfer. Enough to cover surgery. Enough for aftercare. Enough to breathe again.
Her fingers curled around the phone.
Who am I going to nurse? she wondered.
The contract arrived shortly after—thick, formal, unmistakably binding. One clause stood out, highlighted in bold:
Duration: One (1) year.
Residence: Assigned apartment. Mandatory stay for the duration of employment.
A full year.
Living on-site.
No exceptions.
A chill slid down her spine, but she signed anyway. Some questions were luxuries she could no longer afford.
When the address finally came, it led her far beyond the city—past familiar streets, past noise and clutter, into a stretch of quiet so deep it felt unreal. The gates alone were taller than anything she'd ever seen, black iron etched with symbols she didn't recognize,They opened silently.
Riah's breath left her in a whisper.
The mansion rose before her like something out of a dream—vast, elegant, impossibly grand. Pale stone gleamed beneath the sun, windows stretching high into the sky, ivy crawling deliberately along the walls as though it had been trained to grow there.
This wasn't a home. It was a fortress.
A man in a tailored suit waited at the entrance, posture flawless, expression carefully neutral.
"Welcome," he said smoothly. "You've arrived exactly on time."
Riah tightened her grip on her bag, her pulse hammering violently in her ears.
Up close, she realized he was younger than she had first assumed—early forties, perhaps—but there was something ageless about him. Controlled. Observant. His eyes missed nothing.
"I'm Nevan"
he added with a polite inclination of his head. "I will be assisting you during your stay."
Stay,. The word echoed far too loudly in her mind. "Riah. Call me riah" she added with a nervous smile as she followed him into the mansion, her thoughts spiraled uncontrollably.
Who the helly am I nursing?
The question screamed inside her skull, over and over, louder than the echo of her footsteps against the marble floor. Her heart raced, nerves crashing into one another, palms slick with sweat. She tried to steady her breathing, to compose herself, but the air itself felt charged—heavy, electric.
The interior was breathtaking. Vast ceilings arched above her like the inside of a cathedral. Chandeliers glimmered softly, casting warm light over polished floors and walls lined with art that looked older than history itself. Everything whispered wealth. Power. Secrets.
She walked forward anyway.
Straight toward whatever—and whoever—waited inside.Then she saw him.The world stopped.
Time didn't slow—it collapsed.
Lucian.
He sat in the living room as though he belonged there, as though the mansion itself had been built around him. Loose dark pants hung effortlessly on his frame, a white long-sleeved sweatshirt clinging just enough to hint at strength beneath softness. His damp hair fell slightly into his face, dark strands catching the light, as if he had just stepped out of rain—or a dream.
He looked like a king resting between battles.
Her breath hitched painfully.
Those dark blue eyes—so deep they felt endless—lifted to meet hers. And in that instant, his pupils dilated sharply, instinctively, as though her presence had struck something primal inside him.
Her heart skipped.
Once…..Twice….Then completely forgot how to beat properly.
He was breathtaking. Unfairly so. Beautiful in a way that bordered on dangerous—like an angel carved from shadow, carrying the quiet promise of something sinful beneath the calm. There was light in him, yes—but it was edged with darkness, a demon's aura wrapped delicately around grace.
Riah couldn't move,. Couldn't think.
Her mind went blank, dumbfounded by the impossibility of him being here—like this. The man who had vanished without a word. The man who had haunted her thoughts every sleepless night. The man she had secretly yearn for in silence and missed in pieces.