"Is this some kind of elaborate performance? A prank? How is he already awake?" Olena demanded, her voice cutting through the faint hum of the sterile hospital corridor. She shot the doctor a deadly gaze that usually made seasoned big-time managers sweat.
The young Dr. Stewie, however, didn't flinch. He worked at one of the most prestigious medical centers in Manhattan; he was accustomed to the awful tempers that accompanied wealth and affluence, especially with the hysterical celebrities.
"The paparazzi are already setting up camp by the ambulance bay; perhaps you might want to direct all that energy toward a more... graceful exit strategy," Zeph murmured, leaning in close to Sarina's ear before stepping back precisely two feet.
Sarina's posture shifted instantly. She was a master of the New York social scene, and a scandal involving her talking down to a medical professional was an inconvenience she couldn't afford. She smoothed the front of her red silk dress and lowered her voice to a dangerous, measured octave.
"Dr. Stewie, help me understand what is happening."
"None of our specialists can offer a definitive explanation, ma'am," Dr. Stewie explained, adjusting his round-rimmed spectacles. "The moment he arrived, his internal temperature plummeted from a lethal fever to a near-hypothermic state. The cooling blankets we used at the hospital were suddenly freezing him. It was like there was no balance at all. We had to switch to thermal regulators constantly just to keep him stable."
He spoke with a kind of detachment that grated on Sarina's nerves. He sounded like a researcher discussing a particularly fascinating biological anomaly rather than a human being.
"If he's stable and even awake like you said, does all of that matter now?" she asked.
"I believe it matters a great deal. We have never seen a physiology react this way. Currently, he's conscious and hydrating—having some herbal tea—but he remains under observation. We've sent his blood work to the specialty labs in Chelsea, and we're waiting on the results so we can draw our conclusion."
Patience was one thing Olena didn't have. She possessed the endurance of an athlete and the iron will of a titan, but waiting was not in her nature.
"If he's well enough for tea, he's well enough to leave," she countered, her eyes narrowing into slits. "He has a schedule to maintain tomorrow."
"That would be highly ill-advised," Dr. Stewie replied, his tone sharpening. He looked at her as if she were a nuisance disrupting his rounds.
"Can I see him?" Sarina's voice was suddenly level, resonant with the persuasive charm she used to close billion-dollar acquisitions. When the doctor hesitated, she added,
"He is my employee, and I am responsible for his well-being. I believe I am allowed to see him."
"The patient is resting. Tomorrow would be more appropriate," the doctor said, turning to depart.
"Why not now?" her voice rose, the professional mask slipping. "Dr. Stewie, you are aware of my standing, aren't you?" Her patience had completely thinned by now.
The doctor paused, a faint, amused smirk playing on his lips. It was the smile of someone who found her entitlement more amusing than intimidating. Olena suddenly felt a surge of annoyance. She didn't like playing the "do you know who I am" card, but this man seemed oblivious to the fact that she could buy the wing he was standing in and turn it into a gallery if she felt like it.
"I want to see him. Now," she repeated, each word punctuated by a step forward.
"Very well," Dr. Stewie sighed, yielding to her whims. "Have it your way, ma'am." He began to walk away without providing a room number.
"Doctor," she called out, stopping him in his tracks. "It would be beneficial if you actually escorted us or, at least, gave us a room number."
"Fifth floor, room 28. The executive suite is reserved for high-priority cases," he replied stiffly, his shoulders slumping as he led the way toward the elevator.
When the elevator took too long to open for Sarina's agitated state, she bypassed it and took the stairs, her heels clicking a rapid rhythm on the concrete. Zeph followed at a brisk pace, a faint, amused shadow of a smile on his face.
***
Inside the suite, Kadyn was draped in a standard-issue hospital gown, staring out the window at the sprawling New York skyline. The late afternoon sun hit the glass, casting long shadows across the room. On the tray before him sat a cup of Earl Grey tea, untouched and cooling. He was lost in the chaos of his own mind, trying to reconcile the vision of the dying trees with the cold reality of a hospital bed.
Kadyn wasn't a man of great ambitions. After his uncle's passing, he had traded his college aspirations for the simple pursuit of survival. He moved through life like a ghost, aiming to find small joys before the end inevitably found him. But the vision had changed something. It felt like a summons to a higher calling.
He realized, with a start, that his employer, a woman known for her icy exterior and her public disdain for hospitals, was currently standing in the doorway. It was a well-known fact in her inner circle that Olena avoided medical facilities at all costs.
He turned, startled to see her and Zeph. Zeph looked as if he were merely waiting for a bus, but Sarina, she looked genuinely unsettled.
"Are you... Okay?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft.
"I'm fine. Thank you," Kadyn replied, his voice guarded. Their last interaction in her office had been a volatile exchange of words that he didn't know what to make of, and he wasn't sure which version of her he was dealing with now.
"Are you certain? Zeph told me you went down hard. If you need a leave of absence, we can arrange it."
Kadyn almost laughed. The "Ice Queen of Manhattan" was offering him a paid break. It felt like he had slipped into a parallel dimension. He saw a flicker of genuine compassion in her eyes, probably a glimpse of the woman behind the brand, the real Sarina.
"I'm ready to walk out right now," Kadyn said, gesturing toward the door. "But our friend Albert Einstein out there thinks I'm a medical miracle and wants to use me as a lab rat."
"Albert Einstein?" Zeph repeated, then let out a sharp bark of laughter as he visualized the doctor's round glasses and small face.
Olena blinked, finally catching the reference. A small, genuine smile broke through her composure. "The doctor downstairs?"
"Exactly. Not my favorite person," Zeph added, and for a moment, the three of them shared a rare, unrestrained laugh.
"I'll drive you home then," Olena offered.
Zeph's eyebrows shot toward his hairline. Olena never 'drove' anyone. She rarely even drove herself, preferring the solitude of her custom-built SUV. In three years of service, Zeph had only been in the driver's seat with her as a passenger a handful of times. This was unprecedented.
Dr. Stewie was predictably reluctant to sign the discharge papers.
"If his vitals spike again, it's on your head," he warned Jacob.
"I'll take my chances, Doctor," Kadyn muttered, eager to shed the hospital gown and reclaim his clothes.
They walked out into the crisp, late-afternoon air. The city was beginning its transition into the evening rush.
"Don't worry about the ride," Kadyn said as they reached the curb. "I have an errand to run before I head back to my place."
It was a lie. He didn't want her seeing the cramped, one-room apartment in Hell's Kitchen where he lived. He wasn't ready for that level of familiarity or for her to see the stark contrast between her world and his.
He watched the black SUV pull away into the sea of yellow cabs and luxury sedans. Once the taillights disappeared, Kadyn didn't head for the subway. He turned back toward the hospital entrance. He had unanswered questions, and if the hospital drew his blood for answers as well, then he was certain his blood held the key.