Chapter 6 - A Nurse in the House of WolvesBy morning, Chloe had become a rumor.
She did not know it yet.
She was asleep in an ICU family chair, head tilted awkwardly against the wall, when the first photo appeared online.
It showed her walking beside Zayden through the airport.
Her hair was messy. Her cardigan slipped off one shoulder. Zayden walked beside her, bodyguards surrounding them like a royal escort.
The caption read:
MYSTERY NURSE SNARES BILLIONAIRE SHEIKH AFTER ECONOMY FLIGHT MELTDOWN.
By breakfast, the photo had spread.
By noon, a gossip account claimed Chloe had “staged a collapse” to get close to him.
By 2 p.m., someone had found her clinic.
At 2:17, Chloe woke to twenty-three missed calls.
She sat upright, heart pounding.
Mason was gone from the chair beside her, but a note lay on his seat.
Getting food. Don’t freak out. Mom still stable.
Chloe checked the ICU monitor through the glass. Helen slept, pale but alive.
Then Chloe opened her messages.
The first was from her clinic supervisor.
Chloe, call me immediately. Reporters are outside.
The second was from another nurse.
Are you okay? People are saying insane things.
The third was from an unknown number.
How much did he pay you?
Chloe’s stomach turned.
She stood too quickly and nearly fell.
Zayden appeared from the hallway, as if summoned by panic.
“You’ve seen it,” he said.
She held up her phone.
“Did you do this?”
His face hardened. “No.”
“Did your people?”
“No.”
“Did hers?”
“Likely.”
Chloe pushed past him toward the elevator.
“Where are you going?”
“My clinic.”
“Your mother—”
“Is stable. My patients are not. Reporters are outside a children’s clinic because of me.”
“Because of Samira.”
“My name is the one on the internet.”
He followed.
Kareem hurried after them. “Sir, your legal team is already issuing takedowns.”
“That won’t stop cameras,” Chloe snapped.
“No,” Zayden said. “But I can.”
She turned on him in front of the elevator.
“This is exactly what I told you would happen. Help is never free. I didn’t ask for headlines. I didn’t ask to become poor Cinderella for bored women with ring lights.”
“You are not responsible for their cruelty.”
“Tell that to the kids who can’t get through the clinic door.”
The elevator opened.
She stepped in.
Zayden stepped in too.
Chloe glared.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to your clinic.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll make it worse.”
“I usually do before I make things better.”
“That is not comforting.”
“It was not intended to comfort.”
The elevator doors closed.
They rode down in electric silence.
Outside, the hospital private entrance was already crowded with photographers. The moment Chloe appeared, flashes exploded.
“There she is!”
“Chloe! Are you dating Sheikh Al-Rashid?”
“Did he pay your mother’s hospital bill?”
“Were you hired by the Voss family?”
Chloe froze.
Zayden moved before the bodyguards did.
He stepped in front of her, one arm angled back—not touching, but shielding.
The cameras turned to him.
“Sheikh Zayden! Is she your mistress?”
The word struck Chloe like a slap.
Zayden stopped walking.
The bodyguards went rigid.
The reporter who shouted it lowered his microphone slightly, realizing too late that courage had an expiration date.
Zayden turned his head.
“Repeat that.”
The reporter swallowed. “I—people online are asking—”
“No. You asked.”
Silence rippled across the crowd.
Zayden took one step toward him.
“You used a degrading word about a woman whose mother is in intensive care. You did this outside a hospital. In pursuit of clicks.”
The reporter’s face reddened.
Zayden’s voice remained calm.
“Give Kareem your name, employer, and press credentials. If your outlet does not issue a public apology within one hour, my attorneys will educate you on consequences.”
No one else shouted.
Zayden guided Chloe toward the SUV without touching her.
Inside the vehicle, Chloe’s hands shook.
She hated that.
She clenched them into fists.
“I’m sorry,” Zayden said.
She laughed bitterly. “Your attorneys going to sue the whole internet?”
“If necessary.”
“That’s not how the internet works.”
“I dislike inefficient enemies.”
Despite herself, she almost smiled.
Then her supervisor called.
Chloe answered immediately.
“Maria?”
“Oh thank God,” Maria said. “Are you safe?”
“I’m fine. What’s happening?”
“Reporters outside. Donors calling. Half the parents are scared. Someone sent flowers addressed to ‘the sheikh’s nurse’ and another person threw coffee at our front door.”
Chloe closed her eyes.
“I’m coming.”
“Chloe, maybe don’t. There are cameras.”
“That’s why I’m coming.”
The clinic sat downtown between a check-cashing store and a laundromat. Its sign had faded. The front windows displayed construction-paper stars made by children. Usually, Chloe loved those stars.
Today, cameras blocked them.
Parents hovered near the entrance, trying to shield children’s faces. A little boy named Mateo clutched his inhaler while his grandmother argued with a man filming on his phone.
Chloe opened the car door before security could stop her.
“Chloe!” someone shouted.
The crowd surged.
Then Zayden stepped out behind her.
The crowd stopped surging.
Power had a sound.
Sometimes it was silence.
Chloe walked straight to the clinic entrance.
A woman with a camera called, “Did you sleep with him for your mother’s surgery?”
Chloe stopped.
Every parent froze.
Zayden’s face turned lethal.
But Chloe raised a hand.
“No,” she said, turning to face the cameras. “I slept for twenty minutes on an airplane because I worked two double shifts caring for sick children. My mother needed surgery. A stranger helped. That is the whole scandal.”
No one spoke.
Chloe continued, voice stronger now.
“And while you’re all here chasing a story, a five-year-old with asthma is trying to get through the door. A baby with a fever is waiting in a stroller. A grandmother is standing in the cold because you think humiliating a nurse is entertainment.”
The camera phones dipped slightly.
“So here’s your headline,” Chloe said. “Leave the children alone.”
She turned and entered the clinic.
Inside, Maria grabbed her into a hug.
“Girl,” she whispered. “You just killed them.”
“No,” Chloe said, shaking. “I just made them quiet.”
Zayden entered behind her.
The clinic staff froze.
Children stared.
Mateo, the little boy with asthma, peeked around his grandmother.
“Are you a prince?” he asked Zayden.
Zayden looked at Chloe.
Chloe folded her arms.
“Don’t encourage him.”
Zayden looked back at Mateo.
“No.”
Mateo frowned. “You dress like one.”
“I will consider dressing worse.”
Mateo nodded seriously. “Good.”
Chloe bit her lip to avoid laughing.
Then Maria approached, eyes wary.
“Sheikh Al-Rashid?”
“Yes.”
“We appreciate whatever you did for Chloe’s mother. But this clinic cannot become a media circus.”
“It will not.”
“With respect, sir, it already has.”
Zayden looked around.
Peeling paint. Overcrowded chairs. A donation box nearly empty. A wall of thank-you drawings from children who had more gratitude than resources.
His gaze stopped on a supply cabinet secured with a broken latch.
“What is your monthly operating shortfall?” he asked.
Maria blinked. “Excuse me?”
“No,” Chloe said immediately.
Zayden ignored her. “Your shortfall.”
Maria hesitated. “Roughly eighty thousand, depending on medication costs.”
“I’ll cover twelve months.”
“No!” Chloe and Maria said together.
Zayden looked genuinely puzzled.
Maria recovered first. “That is generous, but we cannot accept impulsive money tied to scandal.”
“It is not impulsive.”
Chloe crossed the room.
“You cannot just buy every problem you see.”
“Yes,” he said. “I can.”
“That is not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“That people deserve systems, not saviors.”
The clinic went quiet.
Zayden stared at her.
Then slowly, he nodded.
“Then we build the system.”
Before Chloe could respond, the clinic door opened again.
A woman walked in carrying a small white envelope.
She wore sunglasses despite being indoors.
“I have a delivery for Chloe Parker.”
Chloe frowned. “From who?”
The woman smiled.
“Lady Samira Voss.”
Zayden moved forward.
Too late.
Chloe opened the envelope.
Inside was a single printed photograph.
Her mother in the ICU bed.
Taken through the glass.
On the back, written in elegant black ink:
Tell your sheikh to stop digging, or next time the photo will be from inside the room.
Chloe’s blood turned to ice.
Zayden took the photo gently from her hand.
His face became something no one in that clinic would ever forget.
The ruthless man had returned.
May you like
But this time, he was not standing against Chloe.
He was standing beside her.
Related Stories
