Immune To The Billionaire's Toxic Regret

Elmore stood paralyzed under the glaring white lights of the cubicle. His eyes remained locked on the spot where the curtain had fallen. The sound of her flat-soled shoes fading down the hall snapped something inside his brain.

He shoved off the bed, his hand grabbing the white fabric and ripping it aside. He stepped out into the hallway.

The emergency room corridor was a blur of motion. Stretchers rolled past, nurses shouted orders, and monitors beeped in a chaotic symphony. Elmore's large frame moved through the crowd, his eyes scanning the chaos with desperate intensity.

He found her near the corner of the central nurse's station. Kendal was standing with her back to him, her head bowed as her fingers typed rapidly on a computer keyboard.

Elmore's heavy footsteps slowed. His breathing was ragged. He stopped exactly three feet behind her, terrified that if he moved any closer, she would shatter into dust.

He opened his mouth. His voice came out as a harsh, scraped whisper as he spoke her full name.

Kendal's fingers stopped moving over the keys. The blue light from the monitor illuminated the sharp, cold lines of her profile.

She did not turn around. She hit the save key, reached down, and pulled her hospital ID badge out of the computer slot.

Only then did she turn. She reached up and pulled the blue surgical mask down to her chin. Her face was older, the soft edges of her youth replaced by hollowed cheeks and a jawline set in stone.

Elmore's eyes devoured her face. He searched the depths of her irises, looking for a flicker of pain, a spark of anger, even hatred. Anything to prove he still existed in her world.

Her eyes were completely empty. She looked at him, then took a deliberate, physical step to the side, putting more distance between them. She treated him like a biohazard.

That tiny step sideways felt like a knife twisting in Elmore's gut. The absolute detachment in her posture hurt more than if she had slapped him across the face.

He took a step forward, closing the gap she had just created. He started to speak, the words tumbling out in a rushed, desperate mess as he tried to bring up the fire, the misunderstanding, the past eight years.

Kendal raised her right hand. She held her palm flat out toward his chest in a universal gesture to stop.

She looked him dead in the eye and told Mr. Thomas that this was a professional environment and he needed to control himself.

The formal title hit Elmore like a physical blow to the head.

A young male resident in dark blue scrubs, Alistair Finch, walked out of a nearby supply room. He noticed the rigid tension in Kendal's shoulders and stopped. He stepped close to Kendal, his shoulder almost brushing hers, and asked if she needed security.

Elmore's head snapped toward the other man. A dark, violent red flooded his vision. His hands curled into fists at his sides, the knuckles turning stark white. The muscles in his neck strained against his collar.

Kendal turned her head toward Alistair. The ice in her eyes melted instantly. She gave the resident a soft, reassuring smile and told him she had the situation under control.

That smile-given to a stranger while he was bleeding out in front of her-ignited a sick, burning jealousy in Elmore's stomach. Acid rose in his throat.

Alistair nodded and walked away down the hall. The corner of the station was isolated again. The air between Elmore and Kendal was thick enough to choke on.

Elmore leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous, vibrating growl. He demanded to know where she had been for eight years and why everyone believed she had died in that fire.

Kendal let out a short, dry laugh. She looked at his expensive coat and asked if the blood money he had drained from the Butler family wasn't enough to satisfy him.

The words hit the deepest, most rotten part of Elmore's soul. The guilt of his original revenge plot tasted like ash in his mouth.

He reached out. He needed to feel the heat of her skin, to prove to his fractured mind that she was actually standing there. His fingers brushed the sleeve of her lab coat.

Kendal violently jerked her arm back. Her upper lip curled in a visceral display of pure, physical disgust.

She stepped back and told him that if he touched her again, she would have the NYPD arrest him for harassment.

The disgust in her face stripped Elmore of his bones. His tall frame swayed slightly. He felt as if the floor had opened up and swallowed him whole.

A nurse leaned out of Cubicle Three down the hall, shouting for the father of the patient to come back and calm his child down.

Kendal gave Elmore one last, dead look. She turned on her heel and walked toward the intensive care double doors. Her posture was straight, unyielding, and final.

Elmore stood alone in the middle of the hallway. The alarms of the medical machines blared around him, but all he could hear was the sound of his own chest cracking open.