I decided to get off the floor and actually have a productive day. Job hunting felt like a decent place to start. I peeled off my basic T-shirt and tossed my hoodie on the bed, choosing instead a loose white satin button-up and my most comfortable block heels. It wasn't much, but it made me feel like I was at least trying.
I called a cab and hurried out, silently thanking the gods for my hair. Good hair days were the one thing I could still count on. I didn't need to do much, just let it fall and enjoy the bounce and fullness of my long black waves.
The ride to the first doctor's office was short. When I walked in, the place was quiet but packed. People sat flipping through old magazines, kids were giggling and playing in the corner, and two women worked behind reception, one answering the phone while the other typed furiously.
"May I help you?" one of them asked without looking up.
"Yes," I said, stepping closer. "I'm looking for a job. I recently graduated from med school and I'm hoping to gain some experience. Here's my resume."
I placed the document on the counter and gave a polite smile.
I wasn't there long.
There were only three private doctors' offices in this city.
Just three.
Which meant exactly three polite rejections. Two of them felt suspiciously performative, like they were just humoring me.
"Leave your resume, and we'll call if anything comes up," one had said with a smile that didn't touch her eyes.
I was growing tired of the way people looked at me, like I was made of glass. Like I'd crumble if they said no too directly. Maybe it was the fatigue or maybe it was the unspoken heaviness I was carrying. I wasn't even showing yet, but I felt pregnant. Everything inside me felt different, like my body was in on a secret the world hadn't caught onto yet.
By the time I walked out of the last clinic, my hope was hovering somewhere near my bank balance, basically non-existent if not for Marcus's big chunk of cash.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk, pulled my purse in tighter, and let the warm breeze brush against my skin. I was debating whether to walk to Tess's place or call another cab when I heard footsteps behind me, fast, purposeful.
"Excuse me, Miss?"
I turned around.
A man in a tuxedo… yes, a literal tuxedo was running toward me. White shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, shoes polished to a mirror shine. He looked like he belonged at a gala, not on this side of town.
He stopped in front of me, barely winded. "Are you… Gina?"
I stiffened. That cold flush of anxiety crept up my neck. "Who's asking?"
He smiled, polite and unreadable, and handed me a card. "There's a job offer. High pay. Flexible hours. No standing on your feet all day. All it needs is discretion. A lot of it."
I took the card slowly, my eyes flicking between him and the curb.
"Who sent you?" I asked.
But he didn't answer.
He simply gave a short nod and turned, jogging back toward a sleek black car parked just down the block, a luxury sedan with tinted windows and that quiet, dangerous kind of presence.
As he slid into the driver's seat, I caught a glimpse of the man in the back.
Dark suit. White shirt. One arm casually resting on the door, head slightly turned toward me. I couldn't make out every detail, but even from this distance, I could see the sharp lines of his face. The way he looked at me, calm, controlled, like he already knew something I didn't.
He didn't smile.
Didn't wave.
He just… watched.
Then the window rolled up, sealing off the connection, and the car glided away like it had never even been there.
I stood frozen for a second, still holding the card.
There was no logo. No company name. Just a single number, a name I didn't recognize, and the words:
Opportunities require boldness and silence.
Without thinking, I slipped it into the front pocket of my jeans.
Tess's apartment was only a few blocks away, and I walked the whole way, slower than I needed to. The encounter replayed over and over in my head.
Who was that man?
Why me?
And what exactly had I just been invited into?
By the time I reached Tess's place, I had more questions than answers… and a creeping feeling that my life was about to get even more complicated.
But maybe complicated was better than being unemployed and relying on money from a married ex-boyfriend