Chapter 37: The Name That Shakes Walls
Raymond frowned, his brows knitting together. “Owner? What the hell are they talking about?”
The two nurses glanced at us nervously before rushing off, clipboards clutched to their chests. Their hurried footsteps faded, leaving behind the weight of what they had just dropped into the air.
Owner.
Lorenzo wasn’t just a patient bleeding on a stretcher. He wasn’t just a shadow from my past who had clawed his way back into my present. He owned this place.
My head spun, and the hallway tilted for a moment, the white tiles stretching endlessly.
\---
The Hospital Reacts
The double doors to the ER swung open again, and two men in dark suits strode out, their shoulders squared, eyes sharp. They moved like walls with legs, scanning every detail, every person. I felt their gaze pass over me and Raymond, cold and assessing.
“Security detail,” Raymond muttered under his breath, but the unease in his tone betrayed him. “This doesn’t make sense.”
The men didn’t speak to anyone. They positioned themselves at the door like statues, blocking anyone from getting close.
Whispers started rippling down the hallway.
Who is he?
Why does he have men like that?
Is it true? Is he the new owner of the hospital?
Every voice scraped against my nerves. I wanted to shut them out, but the weight of their words dug deeper.
If it was true, if Lorenzo was tied to this hospital… I wasn’t free of him. I had only been walking inside the circle of his shadow without knowing it.
The air seemed heavier now, pressing against my chest. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms. The sterile scent of disinfectant was suffocating, mixing with the faint iron tang still lingering from when they rolled him in.
I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn’t move.
\---
Time Stretches
Minutes bled into each other. I could hear the faint shouts of doctors behind the ER doors, the clang of metal instruments, the deep urgency in their voices. My training told me not to stand here uselessly, but my body refused to step away.
Every sound, beep, clang, hiss, shout, felt sharper, clearer, as though the world was making sure I couldn’t escape the moment.
Why now? I thought. Why here?
I had prayed for peace. I had built something steady with my work, with my friends. I had let myself imagine a future unmarked by shadows.
And then he came crashing back, carried in on a stretcher, bleeding, and somehow more present than ever.
\---
The ER doors hissed open again. A senior nurse walked out, her expression tight, her uniform smudged faintly with blood. She didn’t notice me, not directly, but her voice carried down the hall when someone asked what was happening.
“They’re stabilizing Mr. De Luca now. No one enters unless cleared.”
The name hit like glass shattering.
De Luca.
Raymond stiffened beside me. His head whipped toward me, suspicion flashing in his eyes. “De Luca? As in… the De Luca?” His voice dropped lower, sharp with disbelief. “Isla, are you hearing this?”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry, my palms slick.
The whispers spread faster now, thick and buzzing like a swarm. Everyone had heard the name.
Some faces were curious. Some pale with fear. Some refused to even look toward the ER, as though avoiding the name would protect them.
But for me, there was no avoiding it.
Because the thread that tied me to him had never really broken. It had only waited.
The name echoed down the corridor like the crack of a gunshot.
De Luca.
It was more than a name, it was a shadow, a storm, a warning. I had carried it in silence for months, buried deep where no one could reach. No one knew what had happened at that lake. No one knew that I had pulled that very man back from the edge of death.
And no one could know.
“So you mean…” His voice was rough, low, as though he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “The person they just wheeled in here is the same man who helped us that day… that was Lorenzo De Luca? The city’s most…” His words trailed off into a sharp exhale, disbelief twisting his face. “No way.”
The disbelief in his tone was edged with something else too: fear. He glanced toward the ER doors as though the very name could leak out and poison the air around us.
Before I could gather a response, Jennie came striding toward us, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished floor. Her blonde hair bounced as she moved, and she carried her clipboard like it was a shield.
“Why are you two standing here like statues?” she asked, tilting her head. Then her gaze flicked between us. “Who’s De Luca?”
Neither of us spoke. Raymond’s jaw clenched, and when Jennie tilted her head impatiently, he finally muttered, “Who’s De Luca? You don’t know that name?”
Jennie frowned, genuinely puzzled. “Should I?”
Raymond let out a bitter laugh that didn’t sound like him at all. “You don’t know the name that hurts this city?” His voice dropped lower, but the words still carried weight. “He’s not just rich. He runs half the streets. People disappear because of him. People pay just to breathe freely on the wrong side of Valmont.”
Jennie’s brows furrowed. “Wait…you mean like mafia stories?”
Raymond gave a sharp nod. “Not stories. Reality. And if what those nurses said is true…” His voice tightened. “He owns this hospital. Which means we’re working for him whether we like it or not.”
My chest ached with each word, the walls of the hospital seeming to close in tighter. The sound of machines and distant footsteps felt muffled, as though I was hearing it all underwater.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice breaking before I could stop it. “Stop talking.”
They both turned to me instantly.
Raymond’s expression softened, confusion knitting his brows. Jennie’s blue eyes widened in alarm.
“You don’t look well,” Jennie murmured. “Isla, you’re pale.”
I pressed my back against the wall, trying to steady myself. The floor felt unsteady beneath me, the lights too bright above. My throat was dry, and the air tasted faintly metallic, as though the scent of blood still lingered.
“I’m just… dizzy,” I said faintly.
But inside, I knew the truth. It wasn’t dizziness. It was recognition.
Lorenzo’s eyes had found mine, even as they wheeled him past on that stretcher. That thread I thought I had cut months ago had just been pulled taut again, strangling me with its inevitability.
And worse, the world now whispered his name aloud.
I thought that by locking the truth inside me, I was sparing them from his shadow. But the weight of it is crushing, and for the first time, I’m not sure silence is the right choice.
I should tell them the truth.
The ER doors swung open again, and a doctor stepped out. His gloves were streaked faintly red, his surgical mask tugged down around his neck. His gaze swept the corridor with urgency before landing on me.
“You…” he said, voice clipped, decisive. “Which one of you is Isla Monroe?”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Jennie blinked in confusion. Raymond stiffened beside me.
But I already knew.
Whatever waited for me beyond those doors wasn’t coincidence.