Chapter 1 Melissa first day at work

Melissa walked down the hospital corridor, her gaze sweeping the bright, clean walls of the soon-to-be new working environment. A sudden, unexplainable cold crept up her back as she changed the strap of her shoulder bag. A chilly, suffocating sensation that appeared to come from deep inside the hospital eluded her. Turning the turn, she saw him.

Alex Blackwood

His back to her, he stood by the window in the far corner of the hallway, but his presence seemed to grab the very corridor air. Dark and pristine, his fitted outfit looked as though it had been created from shadows. She had known of him previously. Cold, calculating, and cruel, a doctor, a CEO, a guy with a reputation that preceded him. His family name was linked to authority, but it was also tainted by rumors of tragedies, losses, and unfinished business.

And now, it appeared, that enterprise was set to clash with her own.

He didn't look when she walked into the corridor, but she could sense his stare on her, as though it were the weight of an unbroken storm. Though her feet felt like lead, she straightened her shoulders and changed her posture. She had no idea why, yet something about him drew attention.

Then, as though he could feel her discomfort, Alex turned slowly to meet her gaze. His gaze's chill hit her like a slap, and for a short while, the sound of the hospital, the nurses' chatter, the beeping of machines, appeared to vanish into an intolerable quiet.

His lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, as if he had already judged her and found her lacking.

He turned away without saying anything. But before he could continue down the corridor, she heard him mutter just loud enough for her to catch, "She'll regret this."

The nurse coordinator's voice was cheerful but strained, as though attempting to hide a degree of discomfort, "Welcome to the department, Melissa." Though the burden of Alex's remarks remained, Melissa gave a tight grin and a polite nod. She looked about the lobby, attempting to soothe the fluttering anxiety in her chest.

Though the facility was large, the tension here felt almost tangible. Exchanging clipped greetings, a symphony of professionalism yet below it, something almost... clinical, people in their white coats moved like ants rushing throughout their own business. Disengaged.

She was fresh. Newness always seemed uncomfortable, particularly in the company of so much established power. Her eyes moved to the other faces, doctors, staff, all busy but none as commanding as the one she'd just crossed paths with.

Walking by a row of shining glass doors, she unintentionally locked eyes with him once more.

Alex Blackwood

Cold and unflinching, his gaze was across the lobby fixated on her. Standing close to a gathering of hospital administrators, he spoke with an ease only possible for someone accustomed to demanding notice. But this time, something was unique. His gaze flickered, something more acute than before.

Her stomach tightened without her control. It was not the chill. No, it was the intensity, the way his eyes appeared to cut through her like she was already a part of his world, one he hadn't yet chosen to claim or discard.

Sitting at his desk, Alex Blackwood appeared to be perfectly framed by the office's crisp lines. Apart from the gentle glimmer of a desk lamp lighting a tumbler of scotch in his hand, the room was black. Watching the action with a distant interest, he stirred the amber liquid.

He ought to have felt comfortable. Everything was in its place: his empire, his authority, his influence. But there was an uneasy knot in his stomach that wouldn't let go as the sound of the hospital halls hummed softly in the background.

Melissa St. Clair

Her presence had disturbed him in ways he did not really grasp. She was not like the others. She was unique. Inexperienced, innocent, but clever in her own way. It was a subtle fire in her eyes, one that could catch with the smallest spark.

But she was also the daughter of the man whose life he had ripped apart, a man whose sins Alex had spent years attempting to untangle and destroy. The links between her father and the destruction of his family were obvious, unarguable.

Alex's mind wandered back to the years of loss, of hardship, of that time. Every achievement in his life had been colored by the sadness of that loss. He had risen to the summit only to discover the same shadow trailing him, always present, lurking, menacing.

And now, it appeared, it was her.

Reaching for the pen on his desk, he wrote her name down with a sad grin as though some perverse destiny had led her to him. Born of treachery, a daughter trapped in a game she had no involvement in but one she was now unavoidably linked to.

He grumbled, "Melissa St. Clair." "I'll make sure you know what your father's done."

Like his plan for her, the writing on the paper stayed strong and conclusive.

A knock on the door interrupted his musings.

He glanced up, eyes narrowing. "Come in," he said, breaking the room's quiet with his voice. The game was only starting.

Walking passed, she tried to avoid the hospital personnel's stares and her fingers grazed the edge of a doorframe. Though the speed of the location was too much, she remained proud and focused to leave a good impression.

Then, without notice, she sensed a change in the air, a tension resembling the quick drop in pressure preceding a storm.

She spun around just in time to see him. Standing next to the nurse's station, Alex Blackwood's tall, imposing physique was highlighted by the fluorescent lights. A dark blue that looked to suck the light around him, his armor suited him like it had been molded by shadows themselves. He was nothing less than scary, cold, strong, unapproachable.

He was looking at her.

Her glance touched his, so his steely, calculating eyes stayed still. They showed no effort to hide their contempt. Cold and merciless, they cut through her. Though she couldn't explain it, his gaze burned like a touch on her skin. It pressed against her chest and caused her breath to catch for a while.

But his gaze at her, as though she were a bother, a stain he couldn't quite remove, spoke more.

He spoke before she could turn away, before the acute pain could settle too deep.

"Stay away from me, or face the consequences."