When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 120

Amelia

I pushed the hospital food cart into Mrs. Wilson's room, where Olivia was already arranging flowers by the window. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor provided a steady backdrop to our improvised lunch setup. Hospital food wasn't exactly five-star dining, but I'd made sure to get Mrs. Wilson something better than the standard menu.

"Here we are," I announced with forced cheerfulness. "Lunch is served."

Mrs. Wilson sat propped up against her pillows, looking frail but alert. I noticed immediately that her eyes were rimmed with red, and despite the steaming food on the tray I'd just placed on her bed table, she made no move to eat.

"Mrs. Wilson, you need to eat to regain your strength," I said gently, moving to her side. I picked up the soup bowl and filled a spoon. "Let me help you with this."

She looked up at me, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Thompson," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I never thought... Mrs. Garcia is gone, and it's all because... because I couldn't protect everyone."

The guilt in her voice mirrored what I'd been feeling since the accident. I set the soup down and took her hand in mine.

"No, Mrs. Wilson. None of this is your fault," I said firmly, fighting back my own tears. "You both protected Lucas with your lives. And I promise you, I'll make whoever did this pay. I'll get justice for Mrs. Garcia."

She squeezed my hand weakly. "What about little Lucas? Who's taking care of him? Is he with someone you trust?"

"Lucas and Ella are with their father right now," I replied, still getting used to saying those words out loud. "Ethan is... he's good with them. They're safe."

Mrs. Wilson's eyebrows lifted slightly, but she didn't press for details about my changed relationship with Ethan. Instead, she simply nodded, accepting my judgment.

As I helped Mrs. Wilson with her soup, a young woman in scrubs entered the room, efficiently checking the IV and monitors. I hadn't seen her before.

"I don't believe we've met," I said, extending my hand. "I'm Dr. Thompson."

"Kelly," she replied with a professional smile. "I'm assigned to Mrs. Wilson for the next two weeks during her recovery."

I observed her movements as she worked—methodical, careful, thorough. She adjusted Mrs. Wilson's pillows with practiced ease, making small talk as she checked the bandages.

"Here's my personal number," I said, writing it on the back of my business card. "Call me immediately if there's any change in her condition, day or night."

Kelly nodded, tucking the card into her pocket. "Of course, Dr. Thompson."

"Kelly's been wonderful," Mrs. Wilson added. "She doesn't talk much, but she's always right there when I need something. Very attentive."

I smiled at the nurse. "Thank you for taking such good care of her."

After making sure Mrs. Wilson was comfortable, I leaned down to hug her gently. "I'll be back tomorrow. Remember, anything you need, call me."

Olivia followed me out into the hallway, closing the door behind us.

"How are you holding up?" she asked, linking her arm through mine as we walked.

"I'm fine," I replied automatically.

"Bullshit," Olivia said, stopping to face me. "You look like you haven't slept in days."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I keep seeing it all when I close my eyes. Mrs. Garcia's funeral, Frank hooked up to all those machines, Lucas covered in blood..."

My phone rang. Michael's name flashed on the screen.

"Thompson," I answered.

"Dr. Thompson, Frank—he's awake," Michael said urgently.

I immediately changed direction, pulling Olivia with me. "Where's his room again?"

"Third floor, room 312," Michael replied.

We hurried to the elevator and rode up in silence. When we reached Frank's room, I was relieved to see him conscious, though clearly weak. His massive frame looked diminished against the white hospital bedding.

"Frank," I said softly, approaching his bed. "How are you feeling?"

His eyes found mine, concern immediately flooding his face. "Lucas..." he croaked.

"He's safe," I assured him quickly. "Lucas wasn't hurt. He's perfectly fine, I promise. He's being well looked after."

Frank's body visibly relaxed, his eyes closing briefly in relief.

"You need to focus on getting better," I told him firmly. "Don't worry about anything else right now."

After leaving Frank's room, I led Olivia to my small office, closing the door behind us. I collapsed into my chair, suddenly exhausted.

"You need more security," Olivia said bluntly, perching on the edge of my desk. "This wasn't an accident, Amelia. Someone deliberately targeted your people."

"I know," I admitted. "But finding evidence, finding who's behind all this... it's not going to be easy."

"Your father? Margaret?" Olivia suggested.

"Maybe. But they'd need help to orchestrate something like this." I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "Enough about my problems. What's going on with you and Noah?"

Olivia's face lit up with a genuine smile. "We're... trying. Taking it slow, if you can believe that."

"Good," I said sincerely. "Life is too damn short and too fucking unpredictable to waste time. You should grab every chance for happiness you can. It reduces regrets later."

"And what about you and Ethan?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

I shook my head slightly. "I don't know. I think I want to wait until all this is over, until we know the truth about everything. Then maybe..."

I deliberately stayed late at work and chose a more secluded route, waiting for my enemies to take the bait. When I reached the garage, I caught a glimpse of Michael and another bodyguard he had arranged in the shadows.

I was fishing for my keys in my purse when three men approached, each holding a club.

"What do you want?" I said, pretending to be very scared.

"Tonight, we're going to teach you a lesson," he continued, raising his club.

Just as he was about to swing, bright headlights suddenly illuminated the scene. A black sedan and a Ducati came racing toward us, their high beams blinding everyone.

"Fucking bitch!" the man snarled, his face contorted with rage. "You called for backup?"

"You really thought I'd come alone?" I shot back.

As the vehicles screeched to a halt, I gathered what strength I had, preparing to fight back.