Code Blue
RONNY’S POV
The room finally fell silent after they left.
For a long moment, I just stood there, listening to the echo of their footsteps retreating down the hallway. The door clicked shut, sealing us in a fragile bubble of quiet. Only the soft beeping of the monitors broke the stillness, a steady rhythm that tethered me to reality.
Liliana had drifted into a light sleep, her lashes trembling faintly against pale cheeks. I watched her chest rise and fall, each breath a slow, careful promise.
I should have felt relief. Instead, unease coiled low in my gut like a live wire.
Her father’s eyes.
The stepmother’s syrupy smile.
Lily’s too-perfect pout.
Every second they’d stood in this room had felt wrong, like a play I hadn’t been given the script for. My instincts screamed that something in their family portrait was cracked and rotten beneath the surface.
I brushed a thumb over Liliana’s knuckles. She didn’t stir. Her fingers were limp now, her pulse faint against my skin.
She needed food. Something warm. Something more than the IV drip.
I hesitated. The idea of leaving her—even for a few minutes—made my chest tighten. But the circles under her eyes, the hollowness in her cheeks, pushed me toward the door.
Five minutes, I told myself.
Ten at most.
I could grab something from the cafeteria and be back before she even woke up.
I leaned close, my voice barely a whisper. “I’ll be right back, Lily. Don’t move a muscle for me, okay?”
She didn’t respond, lost to the sedative weight of exhaustion.
Reluctantly, I slid my hand free from hers and stood. The room felt colder without that small point of contact, the air suddenly sharper against my skin.
I checked the locks on the window—secure. Checked the IV line—intact.
Still, the unease didn’t fade.
With a final glance at her sleeping form, I slipped into the hallway.
***
The corridor smelled faintly of antiseptic and overbrewed coffee. Nurses in pale scrubs moved briskly between rooms, their shoes squeaking against the polished floor. My steps echoed as I headed toward the elevator, every sound too loud in the late-afternoon quiet.
Halfway there, a sharp metallic clang rang out behind me—like a tray hitting tile.
I froze.
The sound came from Liliana’s room.
My body reacted before my mind caught up. I spun on my heel and sprinted back, my heart thundering against my ribs.
The door was still closed. No voices. No footsteps.
Too quiet.
I shoved it open.
The scene inside hit me like a punch to the chest.
Liliana was still asleep, her head tilted slightly to the side, strands of dark hair spilling across the pillow. But she wasn’t alone.
A woman in a nurse’s uniform stood at her bedside, one gloved hand poised over Liliana’s IV line. In her other hand, a syringe gleamed under the fluorescent light, a clear liquid trembling in the barrel.
Every muscle in my body locked.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
The words ripped out of me, low and sharp enough to cut glass.
The woman jerked, her shoulders tensing, but she didn’t drop the syringe.
She turned her head slowly, her face hidden partially behind a surgical mask. Only her eyes were visible—cold, calculating, the kind of eyes that belonged to someone who didn’t flinch easily.
“Sir,” she said evenly, her tone practiced, professional. “Please step back. This is just—”
“Bullshit.” I crossed the room in three strides, slamming my palm against the metal tray beside the bed. The sharp clang echoed through the room. “You’re not on her chart. I’ve been here all day. She's not supposed to take any injections yet.”
Her fingers tightened minutely around the syringe.
A flicker of something—fear? irritation?—passed through her eyes.
“Sir, you need to calm down. This is a scheduled—”
“Don’t.” My voice dropped to a growl. “Lie to me.”
I reached for the syringe.
She moved fast—too fast for someone who claimed to be a nurse. She jerked her arm back, the needle flashing dangerously close to Liliana’s arm. My stomach lurched.
I lunged, grabbing her wrist. The plastic barrel of the syringe was slick under my fingers.
“Drop it,” I snarled.
For a second, we stood locked in a silent tug-of-war, the only sound the frantic beeping of the heart monitor as my movement jostled Liliana’s wires.
Then she did something I didn’t expect.
She smiled.
A tiny, chilling curl of her lips beneath the mask.
And with her free hand, she shoved the tray of instruments off the bedside table.
The crash was deafening—metal clattering against tile, scalpels skidding across the floor, the IV pump rattling violently.
I flinched instinctively, and in that split second she wrenched her arm free.
The syringe clattered to the floor, rolling under the bed.
By the time I recovered, she was already moving.
She darted toward the door, her shoes squeaking against the tile.
“HEY!” I roared, lunging after her.
But my body stopped mid-step, a brutal choice slamming into me like a wall.
Liliana.
Unprotected.
The monitors blared behind me, a harsh reminder of the sleeping woman who couldn’t defend herself.
If I chased the intruder and she doubled back—
No.
I couldn’t leave Liliana.
Not for a second.
I cursed violently and spun back toward the bed, planting myself between her and the door. My chest heaved, adrenaline burning through my veins like fire.
The door swung shut with a soft click, leaving only the sound of my ragged breathing and the chaotic mess on the floor.
I forced myself to move.
First, the syringe.
I dropped to my knees, scanning the floor until I spotted it glinting faintly beneath the bedframe. Carefully—very carefully—I reached for it, using the edge of a paper towel to avoid direct contact.
The liquid inside was clear. Odorless.
It could be anything.
Sedative. Poison.
Something worse.
My stomach turned.
I set it carefully on the nightstand, far from Liliana’s reach, and grabbed the emergency call button, slamming it repeatedly until the intercom crackled.
“Code blue?” a nurse’s voice crackled.
“No—security,” I barked. “NOW. Someone just tried to inject my girlfriend with something. Room 514. Lock down the floor!”
The line went dead as alarms triggered in the hallway.
Footsteps thundered seconds later. Two security guards burst in, followed by a real nurse—her eyes wide, her badge visible, her hands raised in alarm.
“What happened?” one guard demanded.
I pointed at the syringe, my hand shaking with barely contained rage. “Impostor. Dressed as a nurse. Came in while I was gone. Tried to inject her.”
The real nurse rushed to check Liliana’s vitals while the guards swept the room.
“She’s stable,” the nurse said quickly. “Sedated, but stable.”
My lungs finally loosened enough to let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
The guards exchanged a look. “We’ll review security footage,” one said. “No one gets in or out until we find her.”
But even as they spoke, a cold realization slid down my spine.
Whoever she was, she wouldn’t be on any footage. People like that didn’t leave trails.
***
Minutes crawled by in a haze of flashing lights and frantic voices. Security combed the hallways. Nurses whispered in corners.
I stayed rooted at Liliana’s bedside, one hand gripping the rail so tightly my knuckles ached.
Every sound outside made my pulse spike—the squeak of shoes, the click of doors.
I couldn’t shake the image of those eyes staring back at me, calm and calculating even as I caught her in the act.
This wasn’t random.
This wasn’t opportunistic.
Someone had sent her.
And I already had a damn good idea who.
The visit from her family replayed in my head in jagged fragments. Her father’s barely hidden irritation.
The stepmother’s overdone concern.
The sudden urgency of their appearance.
And the shares.
Always the shares.
Liliana owned them now.
A majority stake in a company worth billions.
If she died…
I clenched my jaw, the thought tasting like blood in my mouth.
Not a coincidence.
Not a chance in hell.
***
Security came back twenty minutes later, their faces tight.
“We checked every camera on this floor,” the taller guard said. “No sign of anyone matching your description entering or leaving in the last hour.”
My blood went cold.
“That’s impossible,” I snapped. “She was right here!”
The guard’s jaw tightened. “We’ll keep looking. Maybe she used a staff exit. But for now, no one gets in without clearance. No one.”
I nodded tersely, but inside my mind was already racing ahead.
If she could get in once, she could get in again.
And next time, I might not get back in time.
I tightened my grip on the bedrail and looked down at Liliana. She was still asleep, blissfully unaware of how close she’d come to…
No. I couldn’t even finish the thought.
I lowered myself into the chair beside her and took her hand again, letting the warmth of her skin steady me.
“Not on my watch,” I whispered, my voice rough.
Whoever wanted her gone had just made their first mistake.
They thought I was just the boyfriend. They thought I’d scare easy.
They were wrong.
Dead wrong.
Because now, I wasn’t just suspicious.
I was hunting.
And I wouldn’t stop until I found the ghost in the nurse’s uniform—
and the person who sent her.
Not until every single one of them paid.
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