The Return.

Fiona's POV

"Ahhhhhhh! Fiona!"

My eyes snapped open, darting around the room to find the source of the scream. I swung my legs off the bed and rushed to the living room.

Of course, it was Isabella, my exuberant girlfriend. Her excitement could only mean one thing: news about a Korean actor or a handsome rich man who had just arrived in London.

"Guess what, Fiona?" Isabella ran to me, hitting me hard on the back.

"Ouch," I shouted, returning the slap. "What is it?"

"He's back, he's back!" Isabella jumped around, gasping for breath.

"Who's back?" I laughed, walking to the countertop and filling a cup with water from the refrigerator.

"Alexander Brooks!"

My grip loosened on the cup, and it shattered on the floor. Isabella ran to me. "I hope you're fine?" she asked, cleaning the floor.

I nodded, hiding my trembling hands. "Who's that again?" I sighed, gaining composure as I walked back into the living room and sat close to Isabella, who giggled at my confusion.

"Alexander Brooks is London's most popular CEO—handsome, tall, bold, brave, hardworking, diligent, rich—everything one could ever wish for," Isabella gushed without pausing for breath.

"Oh, that Alexander Brooks."

I actually did know who he was. He belonged to the Brooks family, the most influential in all of England.

"So where has he been?" I sipped my water which I had filled again.

"Well, he left home ten years ago to study in Hong Kong, where he started a business school. Interesting, right?"

I nodded, now intrigued by the story.

"Now his father, Jordan Brooks, has retired and handed over the Brooks Company to him. Just imagine how rich he is!"

I stared at her for a moment, really imagining his wealth. The rich never seem to have anything to worry about, right?

As I listened, my phone beeped, signaling a new message.

I didn't need to look at it to know who it was from. Of course, my annoying boss, Mrs. Patricia.

In all my years as a doctor, I'd never dreaded going to work this much. This started when Mrs. Patricia was transferred from headquarters. My life had become a living nightmare.

"The devil again?" Isabella laughed. She knew my expression all too well—the what-do-you-want-from-me-now look.

"It's the devil, and she seems to thrive on my misery," I stretched, running to my room. It wasn’t a large room, just enough for a single lady with no love life.

I had moved out of my parents' house at a young age, after their death.

The room, though sparsely furnished, reflected my loneliness. I walked to the wardrobe and picked out a short pink skirt and a white blouse, then grabbed a pair of canvas shoes from the shoe rack.

I quickly dressed, tying my hair into a ponytail.

When I returned to the living room, Isabella was still on her phone, squealing over images of Alexander Brooks.

"Get over him, you fool," I said, kissing her on the cheek before heading out.

"I love you," Isabella called after me, her voice fading as I left.

The street was bustling as usual, with children running around with their parents, couples holding hands while crossing busy roads, and shopkeepers cleaning windows and doors.

I bit my nails, going through my call log. "Found you!" It didn't take a while before I phoned him, he picked up immediately.

"Hi."

"It's the time you've been waiting for. Are you ready?"

"How's his health?" I asked still biting my lips.

"It's worsening, this is the time he needs a personal doctor, I'll put in good words so you'll be posted there," he said, immediately hanging up.

A taxi stopped as soon as I signaled it. "City Hospital, please."

The taxi driver, a middle-aged man with a cheerful look, asked, "Can we go now?" waiting until I was settled.

"Yes, please," I responded. The city looked slightly different today. The sun was higher than usual. "It's going to be a rough day," I muttered as I burst through the hospital doors. 

I was a resident doctor and had attended Yale School of Medicine on a scholarship and now worked at the city's hospital.

"Good morning, Fiona," a voice called out, giving me a look that screamed "run faster."

I dashed to the elevator, but it was filled to capacity. The only option left was the stairs. "Oh, shit," I muttered, running to the side of the building and taking the two hundred steps up to Mrs. Patricia's office.

it felt like a heavy stone was pressing down on my heart. As I walked into Mrs. Patricia's office, a sense of foreboding washed over me.

I entered cautiously, my lips pressed tightly together. To my surprise, Mrs. Patricia wasn't wielding her usual fountain pen with a critical air which she did anytime she was up to frustrate everyone. Instead, she wore a satisfied expression.

I glanced behind me, wondering if she was really looking at me.

"What's wrong, Miss Campbell?"

Wait, did she really just call me that?

"Ma'am?"

"You seem more beautiful than usual. Have you been going on dates?"

"Sorry, what?" I said, taken aback. Mrs. Patricia only acted this way when she wanted something, and it was never optional. I watched her lips move slowly.

"So, you might have heard about the Brooks family?" she said, sorting through the files on her desk, the wrinkles beside her eyes more pronounced.

I met her gaze. So this was what all this was about? "Yes, ma'am. What about them?"

"Well," she cleared her throat, "Jordan Brooks, a significant investor in the hospital, is ill. He'll be needing a physician."

"What!" I bowed slightly, "I'm sorry..."

"There's no need to reject," she cut me off, picking up a red pen from the pen cup. "I'm actually working on your transfer letter. You may have heard of Mr. Mark."

Mr. Mark was notorious—a lunatic, a sexual predator. Despite numerous allegations, no evidence had ever stuck against him.

My heart sank, not of sadness, but happiness. This was the opportunity I had been waiting for. I bit my lip until it turned red.

"Would you prefer to go there?"

"No, no ma'am," I stuttered, pinching my palms.

She slammed the file shut, dropping the pen. "I'll assume you've accepted the assignment."

I wasn't going to refuse before. I knew everything about the Brooks family, but being sent there felt like being a sacrificial lamb in Mrs. Patricia's power play.

"If I may ask, ma'am, for how long?"

"You have no idea how influential Jordan Brooks is, do you? If you do your job well, something good might happen. Who knows?"

I understood her underlying motive—a potential promotion she had always coveted. It wasn't about my well-being.

I didn't have to think too hard. Everything was falling into place, thanks to him. "I'll go, ma'am."

Mrs. Patricia swiftly walked over to me, clasping my hands in hers. A chill ran down my spine, and I took a step back as she spoke.

"Thank you. Make sure you behave well. If you need any help, I'll send the team," she said, practically skipping out of the office in joy.

Watching Patricia walk away, I smiled and whispered, "You're finally back, Alexander Brooks. It took a while." 

Finally!