Chapter 3 - THE PRIVATE PHYSICIAN
The rain continued to lash against the bistro windows as I stood frozen by the prep station.
David Kesler stumbled out of the kitchen without a word, his career evaporating in seconds.
The remaining kitchen staff stared at me in stunned disbelief.
I clutched my ruined apron against my chest.
My phone was still dead.
My son Leo was waiting at home with our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Gable, and his ear infection was growing worse by the hour.
“Megan,” Roman’s voice cut through my racing thoughts.
I turned to face him.
Up close, the blood on his charcoal coat was dry and dark.
Yet he stood as steady as a marble pillar.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
“For the job. Or for saving my life?” Roman asked softly.
“Both, I suppose.”
Roman nodded once to his head of security.
“Get the car,” he ordered.
“Wait,” I stepped back, shaking my head.
“I need to get home. My five-year-old son is sick.”
“I know,” Roman said, slipping off his ruined coat to reveal a tailored vest and a white shirt underneath.
“Which is why my private physician is already waiting at your apartment.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“How could you possibly know where I live?”
“Megan,” Roman said, a faint, rare hint of amusement in his eyes.
“You stopped to save a dying stranger in a Chicago alley without knowing who he was.”
“Allow me the basic courtesy of knowing who you are.”
May you like
Before I could protest, one of his guards opened the service door for us.
Stepping out into the rainy Chicago night, I realized my ordinary, struggling life had just collided with something immense, dark, and entirely inescapable.
