Jessica let out an unbelievable scoff, loud enough to turn heads around her.
Of all people, Debby was the last person she expected to see again—especially standing tall inside this hospital like she still belonged. Her eyes scanned Debby from head to toe, and the disbelief on her face twisted quickly into mockery.
"Well, well," Jessica said, folding her arms. "What are you doing here?"
Her tone was playful, but laced with venom.
Before Debby could reply, Veronica stepped forward, her voice loud and clear.
"What else would someone like her be doing in a hospital?" she snapped. "To resume work, of course."
Jessica rolled her eyes. "I wasn't talking to you."
"I don't think what I'm doing here is any of your business," Debby said calmly, stepping in before things escalated.
She turned to leave, but Jessica grabbed her wrist, yanking her back without warning.
"You came here for Luke, uh—" she mumbled, glancing around as more heads turned in their direction.
This was it. The moment Jessica had feared Debby returning. Coming back to talk to Luke. She had done so much, gone so far to separate them. There was no way she'd let that be ruined now. Not after everything she had done.
"What is your problem, Jessica? Let go of her!" Veronica cried, shocked, trying to pull Jessica's hand off Debby's wrist. But she wouldn't budge.
Instead, Jessica raised her voice suddenly, loud and sharp, designed to gather attention.
"Let go of a murderer? A person who neglectfully killed her patient?"
Gasps filled the air.
Nurses stopped moving. Doctors paused mid-step. Heads turned. Some people even took a step back. A few whispered, while others exchanged awkward glances.
Jessica's eyes gleamed as the hallway slowly filled with spectators.
"We don't accept murderers in this hospital!" she continued, louder now. "We threw her out a long time ago. She doesn't belong here!"
"She killed a patient and ran away! She should be in jail—not walking around this hospital like she owns it!"
Debby stood there, stunned. She couldn't believe how far Jessica was willing to go. Her vision blurred as the hallway spun slightly. The stress was too much. Her pregnancy was already fragile—her body couldn't take this level of pressure.
Her wrist burned from Jessica's grip, her heart pounding in her chest like a warning drum.
She yanked her arm again, trying to free herself.
Pain shot through her elbow—and the next thing she knew, her hand moved on its own.
SLAP.
Her palm struck Jessica's face, clean and hard. Jessica's head whipped to the side, her mouth falling open.
The hallway fell into dead silence.
Even the elevator stopped dinging.
Jessica blinked rapidly, her cheek glowing red. She turned back slowly, seething.
"Security!" someone yelled.
Two guards appeared almost instantly, eyes alert and ready to intervene. Before Debby could speak, one of them grabbed her arm. Another went for the other side.
"Let me go!" she gasped. "I came here to see the manager!"
"She assaulted a staff member," a nurse called. "She needs to be escorted out!"
"She's not here to cause trouble!" Veronica said desperately, running beside them. "She came here for a reason!"
"Are you guys deaf?" she shouted again. "Stop dragging her!"
But the guards ignored her, pulling Debby toward the elevator. Her knees buckled slightly. She was dizzy, drained. Her chest rose and fell quickly as the pain and stress overwhelmed her.
She was about to collapse.
Then—
A voice.
Low, sharp, commanding.
"Get your hands off my wife."
The entire hallway froze.
The guards halted mid-motion.
The elevator chimed behind them, open and waiting, but no one entered.
All eyes turned.
At the far end of the hallway, a man stood tall in a black suit, his posture calm yet full of unspoken threat. His broad shoulders framed by two hefty bodyguards in matching uniforms.
His hair was loose, longer than usual, part of it falling over the side of his face—strategically covering a bandage taped to his head.
Alexander.
Someone gasped. Another person whispered his name.
Flash. Flash.
Suddenly, cameras went off. Several nurses and interns had their phones up already, recording, snapping photos, stunned.
Jessica's jaw dropped. Her voice caught in her throat.
Alexander Whitson. In their hospital. In person.
More shocking?
He had just called Debby his wife.
Jessica took a step back, her lips parting. "The… the fuck is happening?" she muttered under her breath.
She couldn't believe it.
Everyone knew Alexander—CEO, billionaire, the heir to the Whitson legacy. The same Alexander who was allergic to women, known for avoiding all physical contact. He had never been seen with a woman longer than five minutes. Rumors about his cold nature and his family's secretive business dealings had floated for years.
And now, here he was.
Looking like he walked off the cover of a magazine—sharp jawline, clean black suit tailored perfectly to his tall frame. Despite the injury partially hidden under his hair, his presence was strong and unshakable.
And he had just claimed Debby as his wife.
The guards loosened their grip immediately.
"Sir—w-we didn't know—"
"I don't care what you didn't know," Alexander said coolly. "She said she came to see the manager, didn't she?"
One of the security men nodded, stepping back quickly.
Alexander walked past the frozen staff without even glancing at them. His eyes were locked on Debby.
He reached her side in seconds.
"You okay?" he asked softly, ignoring the growing crowd and the phones pointed at them.
Debby could only stare at him, breathless.
He didn't wait for a reply. Instead, he took off his coat and gently draped it around her shoulders. The moment it touched her skin, the hallway erupted with whispers and low gasps again.
Jessica stood frozen, her chest rising and falling with confusion and disbelief.
She wanted to scream.
How?
How could Debby have ended up with him?
Before the crowd could gather more courage to whisper or approach, another wave of shock swept through the hallway.
A man came rushing down the opposite end—his tie slightly loose, coat flaring behind him. It was Manager Gilbert, the head of internal affairs and one of the most respected figures in the hospital.
"Make way! What the hell is going on here?" he snapped as he approached the scene.
When he saw Debby being surrounded, with the security guards still unsure what to do and Alexander Whitson standing next to her like a silent wall of power, his heart almost dropped.
He turned sharply to the guards. "Are you all mad?! Who gave the order to touch her?"
The guards stammered but didn't reply.
"And you," he pointed directly at Jessica, his eyes burning. "Who gave you the right to cause such chaos in this hospital? This isn't your personal playground!"
Jessica flinched. "But sir—she slapped me and she—"
"Shut it!" he roared, his patience gone. "You've done enough damage for today."
Then he turned to Debby, his expression softening into a nervous smile.
"Dr. Deborah Whitson" he said with full formality, "please, forgive this madness. I was just informed you had arrived. I've been expecting you. Would you follow me to my office?"
The staff all blinked.
What?
Doctor?
Debby looked just as surprised.
Manager Gilbert adjusted his tie, trying to maintain his professional poise as he nodded to Alexander. "Sir Whitson, thank you again. As discussed, everything has been arranged."
Jessica's face was pale now, mouth agape.
As the crowd watched silently, the manager ushered Debby and Alexander out of the hallway like they were royalty, even motioning his assistant to clear the corridor.
Back in his office, moments earlier, he had nearly spilled his coffee when his secretary whispered the words:
"Sir, Alexander Whitson is here to see you."
He thought she was joking.
Who wouldn't?
The Whitsons didn't visit small hospital managers. They dealt with ministers, shareholders, directors of entire medical boards. Not people like him.
But the moment Alexander stepped in, the air in the office changed. Manager Gilbert had straightened his tie five times, offered him imported coffee, even adjusted the lights to a slightly warmer tone to match "the Whitson atmosphere."
And then Alexander had said only a few words:
"I want my wife Dr Deborah Whitson reinstated immediately. Full access. No unnecessary noise."
Gilbert didn't even hesitate. It took exactly two seconds before he said, "Of course, sir."
He had barely recovered from the surreal meeting when another staff came knocking again.
"Sir, there's a commotion downstairs. Someone said… security was dragging a woman out. Deborah Mendez"
"What?!"
That was it.
He had built this reputation for years—quiet, professional, efficient—and finally, someone like Alexander Whitson walked into his office, trusted him, and even thanked him.
Now they wanted to ruin it all in one morning?
Not on his watch.