008

Selene~~

The following morning, the city pulsed around me with its usual rhythm, honking taxis, clattering heels on pavement, but none of it seemed to touch me. I stood still, watching my reflection in the mirror of my hotel room.

I looked… different.

Not drastically. Not enough for someone on the street to stop and stare, but enough for me to feel it in my bones. My blouse was crisp white, tucked into charcoal-gray slacks that hugged my hips in a way that screamed ambition. My hair was pinned into a soft chignon, my makeup minimal, save for the confident stroke of eyeliner that made my dark eyes look sharper than they’d ever felt.

“Today is not about him, Selene,” I murmured to my reflection. “Today is about me, focus.”

I reached for my bag, hesitating only a second when I glanced at my phone. No messages, no missed calls. The silence was both a relief and an ache.

I walked out of my room, the cab I already booked waiting.

The ride to City Heart's campus was uneventful.

The driver was kind enough to roll the windows down a crack when I asked, letting in the cool breeze that danced through my nerves like icy fingers. I didn’t know what I expected the campus to look like, maybe something grand or clinical. But as the car pulled up, I was taken aback.

It was beautiful.

City Heart sat nestled between two tall buildings like a secret sanctuary. White tiles paths curved through patches of manicured greenery. A sleek, modern glass structure rose in the center, reflecting the morning sun in waves of light.

I paid the driver, grabbed my bag, and stepped out.

My heels clicked against the clean pavement as I walked up to the main reception hall, where I found three women already waiting. They were seated across a long bench, chatting quietly, occasionally glancing at the wide glass doors that led to the inner offices.

The woman nearest to me glanced up. She had auburn curls that spilled over her shoulder and a sharp jawline that reminded me of models in magazines.

“You here for the medical program interview?” she asked with a polite smile.

I nodded, smoothing the front of my blouse before taking a seat beside her. “Yeah. I'm Selene.”

“Rachel,” she offered. “That’s Jenna, and over there’s Alina.”

The other two women offered small waves to me. Jenna was petite with a pixie cut and nervous energy that radiated from her in visible waves. Alina was statuesque, cool, her long legs crossed with elegance and her phone gripped like a lifeline.

“How are you guys feeling?” I asked, trying to break the ice of nervousness in the air.

“Like I’m about to vomit into this bag,” Jenna muttered, lifting a paper cup that had probably once held coffee but now just served as a distraction.

Rachel laughed. “Don’t worry, we all feel like that. Honestly, it’s just one last step. They already said we passed the online screening. The interview’s more of a formality.”

“Formality or not,” Alina said without looking up, “I heard one of the coordinators used to be a surgeon at Mount Grace, the biggest hospital in the state. Apparently, he can read you like a chart.”

Rachel raised her brows. “Charming.”

I smiled faintly, appreciating the banter but also keeping my mind steady. I hadn’t come this far just to be intimidated out of my shot.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

Finally, a woman in a navy pencil skirt and matching blazer stepped out through the glass doors towards us “Jenna Barlow?”

Jenna shot up, nearly tripping over her own feet. She looked back at us like she might never return.

“Good luck,” I whispered to her.

She gave a faint nod before vanishing behind the glass and silence settled again.

“She’s gonna cry,” Rachel said after a heartbeat.

Alina snorted. “She’s gonna panic and overtalk. You can see it.”

“I think she’ll surprise us,” I said quietly.

Rachel glanced over. “You look calm.”

I gave her a small shrug. “I don’t know if I am. I think I’m just… exhausted.”

She tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Rough year?”

I let out a breathless laugh. “You have no idea.”

We fell into easy conversation, small stories exchanged like classes where we studied, what inspired us to apply, why medicine. I didn’t tell them everything, not about the broken marriage or the bargain I’d made or the baby girl I left with Dominic in her crib, with my heart still clenched around her tiny fingers.

But I mentioned the burn for purpose. The ache to reclaim a part of myself I’d given away too easily.

That, they understood.

Jenna came out ten minutes later looking… shaken. Not crying, but close.

“Well?” Rachel asked.

Jenna shook her head. “I… don’t know. He was intimidating. He asked about my gap year and then started quoting articles I wrote in undergrad. Who does that?”

“Someone thorough,” I murmured, suddenly even more nervous.

The woman in navy came back. “Alina Cruz?”

Alina stood like a queen, chin high, eyes sharp.

“I’m not coming back out if I bomb,” she warned with a grin before following the woman through the doors.

Rachel leaned toward me. “Honestly, you’ve got the vibe. You’ll probably do great.”

I turned to her, surprised. “What vibe?”

“That calm, collected thing. Like nothing scares you.”

I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “Looks can be deceiving.”

She opened her mouth to say something else, but the doors opened again.

“Rachel Graham?”

Rachel exhaled and smoothed her skirt. “Here it goes.”

She walked in and left me alone on the bench.

I tapped my fingers against my knee. Ten minutes passed and another. I was starting to wonder if something had gone wrong when the door opened again and Rachel stepped out.

Her smile said it all.

“I think I nailed it,” she giggled as she walked past, giving me a wink.

That left only me.

“Selene Stephens?”

I stood up, adjusted my blouse, and tried not to let the sudden tightness in my throat overwhelm me. I walked toward the open door.

The hallway was long and lined with glass offices. The woman led me down to the last room and opened the door.

“You can head in. They’re waiting.”

I stepped inside, my heart hammering in my chest.

The room was simple—

with white walls, a wide glass table that held my reflection, two leather chairs on either side. Sunlight filtered in through a high window, and behind the desk sat..

My breath caught in my throat.

No! It couldn’t be. There was no way.

Dominic Lancaster sat behind the desk, dressed in a sharp navy suit, pen in hand, eyes lifting slowly from the folder in front of him.

He looked up at me, and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, our eyes locked again.

I froze. His lips curled, the smallest trace of a smile playing at the corner.

“Miss Stephens,” he said smoothly, his voice just as rich, just as devastating. “Please, have a seat.”