The steady beep of cardiac monitors filled the emergency room as Dr. Aaradhya Mehra rushed through the sliding doors, her long black hair tied in a neat bun, stethoscope around her neck. First day as head of cardiology at Mumbai's prestigious Lifeline Hospital, and she was already being paged for an emergency.
"What do we have?" she asked, snapping on latex gloves as she approached the trauma bay.
"Male, mid-thirties, gunshot wound to the shoulder, showing signs of cardiac distress," the resident reported, matching her brisk pace. "BP dropping, possible tamponade."
Aaradhya's mind immediately shifted into clinical mode, pushing aside the questions about why a gunshot victim had been brought to a private hospital rather than a government facility. The patient's life came first; politics could wait.
The trauma bay was crowded with nurses and security personnel – more security than usual, she noted. The patient lay on the bed, his expensive suit cut away, revealing a muscular frame. Despite his injury, he remained conscious, his dark eyes alert and calculating.
"Sir, I'm Dr. Mehra, head of cardiology. We need to—"
"Save him." The command came from behind her, a voice so deep and authoritative it seemed to make the air itself vibrate. Aaradhya turned, finding herself staring up at a man who seemed to command the very shadows of the room.
He stood well over six feet tall, dressed in a black suit that probably cost more than her monthly salary. His presence was overwhelming – broad shoulders, sharp jawline darkened by a perfectly maintained beard, and eyes that seemed to pierce straight through her soul. A small scar near his right eyebrow only added to his dangerous allure.
But Dr. Aaradhya Mehra hadn't become the youngest head of cardiology by being easily intimidated.
"Then I suggest you step back and let me do my job," she replied firmly, turning back to her patient. She could feel those intense eyes boring into her back but forced herself to focus.
The next twenty minutes were a blur of precise movements and critical decisions. The patient's pericardial effusion required immediate intervention. Aaradhya's hands moved with practiced efficiency as she performed the pericardiocentesis, her steady fingers guiding the needle with perfect precision.
Throughout the procedure, she was acutely aware of the imposing figure watching her every move. He hadn't stepped back as she'd instructed – merely shifted slightly to the side, maintaining a clear view of everything she did. The other security personnel seemed to orbit around him, as if he were the center of their universe.
"Pressure's stabilizing," a nurse announced.
Aaradhya nodded, her focus unwavering. "Get me an ECG and prepare for possible emergency surgery if—"
"That won't be necessary." The deep voice again, closer this time. "My personal medical team will take over from here."
Aaradhya straightened, pulling off her gloves with controlled precision. "The patient needs continuous monitoring. Moving him now would be—"
"Not a request, Doctor." His tone was silk over steel. "You've done your part. Admirably." The last word carried an undertone she couldn't quite decipher.
A team of medical professionals she didn't recognize was already entering the trauma bay, equipped with portable monitoring devices that looked military-grade. The efficiency with which they transferred her patient spoke of extensive experience.
Aaradhya watched, torn between professional concern and the unsettling feeling that she'd stumbled into something far beyond her usual realm of experience. As the new medical team wheeled her patient out, she found herself once again facing the mysterious man in black.
"Your name?" he asked, though something in his tone suggested he already knew.
"Dr. Aaradhya Mehra." She met his gaze directly, refusing to be cowed. "And you are?"
A slight curve touched his lips – not quite a smile, but something more dangerous. "Rudra Singh." He spoke the name as if it should mean something to her. Perhaps it should have, but Aaradhya had spent the last several years focused entirely on her medical career, paying little attention to Mumbai's social circles.
"Well, Mr. Singh, since you're taking my patient, I'll need to document—"
"All necessary documentation will be handled." He took a step closer, and Aaradhya fought the urge to step back. His cologne – something expensive and subtle – teased her senses. "Your intervention today won't be forgotten, Doctor."
The way he said 'doctor' – almost caressing the word – sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. Before she could respond, he turned and strode out of the trauma bay, his security detail falling in around him like a well-choreographed dance.
Aaradhya released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The emergency room seemed strangely empty now, though the usual bustle of hospital activity continued around her.
"Dr. Mehra?" One of the nurses approached cautiously. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," she replied automatically, then frowned. "Do you know who that was?"
The nurse's eyes widened. "You don't know? That was Rudra Singh – the Rudra Singh. Owns half of Mumbai's skyline. The other half..." she lowered her voice, "well, let's just say there's a reason he's called 'The King' in certain circles."
Aaradhya's frown deepened. She'd wanted this position at Lifeline Hospital because it was the best facility in the city, offering her the chance to do groundbreaking research while helping patients. She hadn't signed up for dealing with mysterious business tycoons and gunshot wounds.
"Dr. Mehra?" Dr. Kabir Sinha, her immediate superior and head of surgery, appeared at the trauma bay entrance. "A word in my office?"
Following Dr. Sinha through the hospital corridors, Aaradhya mentally reviewed the emergency procedure. She'd done everything by the book, made the right calls. Whatever this was about, she was confident in her actions.
Dr. Sinha's office was a corner room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Mumbai skyline. He gestured for her to sit but remained standing himself, his expression troubled.
"That was quite an introduction to Lifelife Hospital," he began, pacing behind his desk. "I should have warned you about our... special patients."
"Special patients?" Aaradhya kept her tone neutral.
"Certain individuals who require additional discretion." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Mr. Singh is one of our hospital's most generous benefactors. His support has funded much of our recent expansion, including our new cardiac research wing."
The one she was supposed to be heading. Aaradhya's eyes narrowed slightly. "I assume this means the usual documentation protocols don't apply?"
"All necessary paperwork will be handled through appropriate channels." The same phrase Rudra Singh had used. "Your role is simply to provide the best possible care when called upon."
"My role, Dr. Sinha, is to be a doctor. Politics and special treatment don't factor into that."
He sighed, finally sitting down. "Admirable principles, Dr. Mehra. But Mumbai runs on relationships as much as rules. The sooner you understand that, the smoother your transition will be."
Before she could argue further, his phone buzzed. Looking at the screen, his eyebrows rose. "Well, speaking of relationships... it seems Mr. Singh was impressed with your work. He's personally requested that you be assigned as the primary physician for all his company's executive health programs."
"I'm a cardiologist, not a corporate doctor," Aaradhya protested.
"You're the head of cardiology at a premier private hospital," Dr. Sinha corrected. "Part of that role is managing our relationships with key stakeholders. Consider this your first major responsibility."
Aaradhya left his office thirty minutes later with a stack of confidentiality agreements and a growing sense of unease. The mumbai sun was setting as she finally made it to her own new office, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple.
The office was everything she'd dreamed of during her years of study – spacious, with state-of-the-art equipment and a view of the city that rivaled Dr. Sinha's. A reminder of everything she'd worked for, everything she'd sacrificed to get here.
She was arranging her medical references on the bookshelf when she noticed it – a small black box sitting in the center of her desk. It hadn't been there when she'd first checked the office that morning.
With cautious fingers, she lifted the lid. Inside, nestled on black velvet, was a Mont Blanc pen of obvious quality and expense. A small card accompanied it, bearing just three lines in elegant script:
For signing all those tedious documents. Consider it a welcome gift. - R.S.
Aaradhya stared at the pen, a mix of emotions churning in her chest. The presumption of it – sending a gift to her office on her first day. The implication that he'd known about the paperwork, about her appointment, perhaps even before she had.
Her finger traced the small scar on her right palm – a reminder of the day she'd decided to become a doctor, of the promise she'd made to herself. No compromises. No politics. Just healing those who needed her help.
But as she looked out her window at the glittering Mumbai skyline, she couldn't help wondering how many of those buildings belonged to Rudra Singh. How much of this city that she called home was under the control of those penetrating dark eyes?
The pen gleamed in the setting sun, both a welcome gift and a warning. In accepting this position, had she unknowingly stepped into a world far more complex than she'd imagined?
Her phone buzzed – a text from her best friend Zara: First day as boss lady! Dinner to celebrate?
Aaradhya smiled, grateful for the distraction. She needed a normal evening with her best friend, away from mysterious business tycoons and their expensive gifts. She typed a quick reply, confirming their usual restaurant.
But as she gathered her things to leave, she couldn't shake the feeling that her life had shifted somehow in that trauma bay. That those dark eyes seeing through her professional armor would haunt her dreams.
She was right about one thing – her life had changed. But she had no way of knowing just how much. The pen was only the beginning. Rudra Singh had seen something in that trauma bay, something he decided was his the moment he laid eyes on it.
And Rudra Singh always claimed what he considered his.
Write a comment ...