3.

Pamela

When the surgery's finally over, Hugo finishes bandaging me up. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his previously clear eyes darkened with something stormy. The silence between us is heavy, and I find myself holding my breath, waiting for him to say something.

Hugo straightens up, hands me a small jar of painkillers then crosses his arms over his chest. "Take two twice a day, morning and evening. And you can remove the bandage within 24 hours, just remember to keep the stitches dry."

I nod obediently, but Hugo's demeanor stops me from fully relaxing.

"Now," Hugo's voice is low but insistent. His eyes bore into mine, searching for answers and I go numb. "Are you going to tell me what happened to your hand?"

I hesitate, my mind racing for a plausible lie. What was I supposed to say again? "It was my fault… I tripped and fell. I'm clumsy like that," I manage, but I can tell by the furrow in Hugo's brow that he doesn't believe me.

"You look far from the clumsy kind. I've never seen a chit as poised as you." A muscle ticks in his jaw, and his voice hardens slightly. "Did your brother hurt you?"

The question hits me like a physical blow. My heart races, panic rising in my chest. "No!" I blurt out, almost too quickly. "No, of course not. And he's my step-brother. Raymond would never do something like that."

My words don't matter. I can see the doubt in Hugo's eyes. He knows something isn't right, and I'm terrified he'll probe further. If he accuses Raymond of hurting me, Raymond will think I snitched. The thought sends a chill down my spine.

"Please," I plead, my voice shaking. "I'm telling the truth. I promise."

Hugo studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

***

Hugo

Pamela's eyes dart nervously around the surgery room. She's a bad liar. I know what happened to her hand wasn't an accident, despite her little attempt to convince me otherwise.

"You don't have to be afraid," I say quietly, my voice low and reassuring. "I can help you. I know how to handle situations like these, to make sure you don't get hurt again."

Pamela's facade cracks for a moment, fear flickering in her eyes before she quickly masks it with confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about," she insists.

I have a feeling it would be a bad idea to inform her, that I can call the cops. Put the guy in prison. But I think it would only upset her more. The guy has to have connection in the underworld or he wouldn't have come to this hospital. Which means, she probably thinks he'll be able to get to her even behind bars.

I lower my tone. "You can come with me if you want," I offer quietly. "I'll protect you from him."

But instead of relief, horror flashes across Pamela's face. She jerks away from me, her hands shaking as she backs towards the door. "No, I… I should leave," she stammers, her voice rising.

"You can trust me."

Her eyes snap to me. "Trust a doctor who accepts bribes?" she pants and I knew karma would bite me in the ass one day.

I reach out, clasping her elbow gently. "Hold up. If you ever need anything—" I give her my business card.

She cuts me off, her eyes wide with terror. "I won't," she insists, her words rushed. She snatches my business card from my hand, but as she hurries out of the surgery room, I see her toss it into the trash without a second glance.

I grit my jaw, frustration and concern gnawing at me. I knew she wouldn't take the offer. She's too terrified of Raymond, too entrenched in whatever hold he has over her.

I step out into the corridor, watching Raymond approach Pamela. He wraps his arms around her, murmuring something in her ear. She can't stand him, squirms in his presence and I feel my own skin crawl. I want to wring his neck. Or better yet throw him down on the surgical table and go to town, using only my sharpest, most painful equipment. The kind that would do the most damage and I can barely even fucking look at this. The way he watches her, makes me want to wash my eyeballs in bleach. I just want to tear her away from him and make sure he never gets anywhere near her ever again.

But she won't let me. She's made the choice to go with him. The girl's shoulders are stiff as they walk away together, her movements rigid and controlled.

"Dr. Payne?" a thick voice grunts and I turn.

A rough-looking man approaches me and I nod at him. He's a frequent client of mine, part of the mob. Beside him a bimbo smiles at me—probably his new mistress. He gestures towards her then offers me a thick stack of cash.

"She's ready for her procedure," he grunts, his expression conniving yet excited, and his woman laughs, pets his belly and calls him her little pervert.

I let out a sigh, accepting the money without a thought. It's just another day at work for me. As I prepare for the next procedure, I keep thinking of Pamela. It feels as if she's been surgically implanted in me. And she's not the only thing that's been implanted.