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A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts as a man walks in, his weathered face creasing into a warm smile when he sees me. “Good to see you awake, Mr. Hills. I’m Detective Wayne Taylor from SDPD,” he says, coming to stand by my bedside. “I’m here to help you figure out what happened on Saturday night.”
“In fact,” I start. “Who took me to the hospital? There was a woman, right?”
“What do you mean?” he comes back with a question. I know this game, but at this point, I’ll follow it.
“I have this memory of a young woman holding my hand…”
“At the worst moments, our minds can find a way to comfort us.”
Ha, no. This is more than that.
“I know she was real,” my voice is firm even if I’m not positive. “She brought me here.” The ultimate bluff by Percival Hills, poker master.
“I can’t talk about an outgoing investigation,” he replies while looking for his phone. I should call my assistant to hire a PI and start digging around.
The man asks me many questions, sadly, there are no answers. Even if I was wounded on my flank, my memories are foggy. Everything about that night is a blur.
“Thank you, Detective.”
He leaves a business card on the bedside table.
“Call me any time if you need anything, all right?” he says, and there’s genuine concern in his eyes. With a nod, I watch as he exits the room, leaving me to contemplate the tangled mess of memories from the night that landed me here.
Morgana finishes her call and comes over to sit by my side, taking my hand in hers. “We’ve been so worried about you. What happened is beyond our understanding.”
“Thanks, Morgan,” I say, giving her hand a squeeze. In that moment, I feel a newfound determination to find the green-eyed woman who saved my life. I owe it to her, and myself, to uncover her identity and repay my debt.
As Morgana leaves the room to fetch some water, I gaze at the card Detective Taylor left behind. My mind buzzes with questions, but one thing is certain: the mysterious woman with the vivid green eyes wasn’t just a figment of my imagination. She’s real, and I’m going to find her.
Southern California may be known for its superficiality and excess, but there’s something about this situation that speaks to a deeper truth, a connection that transcends the mundane. With each passing moment, I become more and more convinced that she holds the key to unlocking a new chapter in my life—one filled with hope, growth, and the kind of evolution that only comes from confronting your demons and emerging triumphant.
As I lie there, surrounded by the sterile white walls and antiseptic smells of the hospital, a spark of excitement runs at the thought of what the future might hold.
Footsteps echo in the hallway outside my room, a rhythmic reminder of the hustle and bustle of the hospital. I feel like an intruder in this world of beeping machines, crisp white sheets, and whispered conversations. The door swings open, and a woman who identifies herself as Doctor Eliana Sanders enters the room, her lab coat billowing behind her like a cape.
“How are you feeling?” she asks after the introductions.
“Better, thanks,” I reply, attempting to sit up straighter. My body protests, but I ignore the discomfort. No pain, no gain. “Just eager to get out of here.”
“Understandable,” Dr. Sanders says, flipping through the pages on her clipboard. “You were lucky, considering the severity of your wounds and the amount of blood you lost. The surgery went well, and you’re responding how we expected you to. Your vitals look good, and your recovery is progressing just fine. The wound is clean, and there are no signs of infection. We’ll keep monitoring you for any complications, but you should be able to go home soon.”
“Thank God,” I mutter under my breath, relief washing over me. The thought of returning to my own bed, without the constant hum of medical equipment, sounds like heaven.
As Dr. Sanders finishes her examination and exits the room, a chatty nurse named Latisha breezes in. She’s a ray of sunshine in the otherwise sterile environment, her laughter echoing down the hallways and brightening the moods of everyone she encounters.
“Hey there, handsome,” Latisha teases, giving me a playful wink. “I heard you’ve been asking about the mysterious lady who brought you in.”
“Guilty as charged,” I admit, unable to suppress a grin. Despite my current predicament, the intrigue surrounding my enigmatic savior has captivated me.
“Well, I won’t keep you in suspense,” Latisha says, leaning in conspiratorially. “The nurses at the ER couldn’t stop talking about her. She was stunning—dark hair, porcelain skin, and those eyes… Like emeralds, they were. She seemed really concerned about you, too. Stayed by your side until your sister got here.”
“Really?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest. The fact that this woman, a complete stranger, cared enough to see me through the worst of it… It’s humbling, to say the least.
“Absolutely,” Latisha confirms with a nod. “She didn’t leave any contact information, though. Just make sure you were in good hands and vanished.”
“Damn,” I mutter, disappointment gnawing at the edges of my excitement. The trail has gone cold before it even began.
“Hey, don’t worry,” Latisha reassures me, patting my arm gently. “Fate has a funny way of bringing people together. You’ll find her. I just know it.”
