She Signed His Marriage Contract Then His Enemies Came novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Mrs. Kastar

Opening with the headline on Ava's phone, she walks into the hospital and faces coworkers who saw it; Gareth's planted story claims she traded the debt for a rich husband. Ava refuses Damien's offer to buy the story's removal.

The headline is still on my phone when the car stops outside St. Vincent's.

SECRET MISTRESS.

Under it, the second story has already loaded.

NURSE TRADED FAMILY DEBT FOR A BILLIONAIRE HUSBAND.

There's a quote from an unnamed source at Kastar Holdings.

She saw a rich man and a way out, the source says.

I know whose voice that is.

My phone rings.

Damien's name.

I let it ring twice, then answer.

"Ava. I can have both stories pulled by noon."

"How?"

"I own a share of the site's parent company."

"Of course you do."

"One phone call. Nobody sees it again."

I look at the hospital doors.

At the sliding glass, the ambulance bay, the smokers by the wall who all have their phones out.

"If you buy it off the internet, it looks true," I say.

"It looks gone."

"It looks bought. By the husband who bought me."

Silence on the line.

"I'm not asking you to pay for my reputation, Damien. I'm telling you I have one."

"Ava."

"I'm late for my shift."

I hang up.

I get out of the car.

The first nurse I pass is Dina from triage.

She sees me and her coffee stops halfway to her mouth.

Then she looks at her phone, then at me, then away.

The sliding doors hiss open.

The ER is loud, the way it always is at seven. Monitors, a crying kid, a gurney wheel with a bad squeak.

But the noise bends around me as I walk in.

I can hear it bend.

Two techs at the supply station go quiet.

A resident I once held a patient's femoral artery with, for eleven minutes, stares at my wrist like there might be a diamond on it.

There isn't.

The ring is in Damien's lawyer's file, to be sized.

"Morning," I say.

Nobody says it back.

Someone near the whiteboard whispers, "Mrs. Kastar."

A few of them laugh.

I keep walking.

My locker is at the end of the hall.

Taped to the metal door is a printout of the photograph.

My face. His hand on my back.

Someone has drawn a crown on my head in red marker.

Under it, in block letters:

HOW MUCH WAS YOU?

I peel it off.

My fingers are steady, and I'm proud of that for exactly one second.

Then I fold it once, put it in my pocket, and open my locker.

I pull on a clean pair of scrubs over my tank top.

My name tag is in the bottom.

AVA SINCLAIR, RN.

I clip it on.

It's the only thing today that's true and mine.

"Sinclair."

The voice is flat and carries.

Dr. Haldane, the hospital director, stands at the end of the hall.

Gray suit. Gray face. Lanyard tucked into his breast pocket like he's afraid of it.

I have never once seen him on the ER floor before nine.

Behind him, the whole department has drifted into the hallway.

Nurses. Techs. The charge nurse with her arms folded.

Dina has her phone against her chest.

"Dr. Haldane. I'm clocked in."

"Not anymore."

I stop.

"I've had a call from the board of trustees," he says. "Kastar Holdings is our largest donor."

"I know who they are."

"They are concerned about the integrity of this department."

"I'm not Kastar Holdings. I work here."

"You are a nurse who has been publicly described as trading a debt for a husband."

"By Gareth Vale. Who isn't a nurse, or a trustee, or a witness."

"By a credible source."

The word hangs in the hall.

I look at the faces behind him.

A few can't meet my eyes.

A few don't try to hide what they're enjoying.

The resident who held the artery with me looks sick.

Nobody speaks.

"I've worked here six years," I say. "I've never missed a shift."

"That is noted."

"I stayed a double last night for Marisol's kid."

"Also noted."

He pulls a folded sheet from his pocket.

He doesn't look at it.

"Effective immediately, Ava Sinclair, you are suspended without pay, pending review."

The hall goes dead silent.

"Hand me your badge," he says.

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