Veiled Hearts

Ten

The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead as Violet sat in her tiny office at the hospital, meticulously typing away on her computer. Papers and reports were scattered across her desk, each one demanding attention, but her mind wandered. She'd been up late thinking about Jason—about what had happened. It was a whirlwind of emotions she hadn't expected to surface, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed. But right now, she had to focus. Work was her sanctuary, the only place where things made sense.

A knock on her door brought her back to the present. Gloria, popped her head in. Her greying hair was swept across her shoulders, her smile jovial as always. Never seeing a melancholy reaction from her.

"You've been locked in here all morning. Come up for air," Gloria said with a chuckle, stepping inside without waiting for permission. She dropped a thick file onto Violet's desk.

Violet sighed and stretched her arms over her head. "I'm just trying to catch up. This new policy rollout has been a nightmare, on top of finalizing this communication cloud."

Gloria leaned against the desk, her lips curling into a small smile. "Welcome to management, honey. But you're doing fine. No one expects you to be perfect from day one."

Violet nodded but didn't feel reassured. She always expected perfection from herself. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

Gloria's eyes flickered, sensing something more on Violet's mind. "You've been working here for what, a little over two weeks now? You're sharp, Violet, but you've also got to take a break. I've seen that look before. You're about to burn out."

Violet gave a weak smile. "I'll be fine. Just a lot going on, that's all."

Gloria raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. She knew better than to pry. "Alright, well. Don't let this place eat you alive. Oh, and I've scheduled a lunch meeting with Dr. Langston this afternoon. He's... an interesting one. Careful with that one. He's got sharp teeth beneath that smile."

Violet furrowed her brow at the warning, but before she could ask more, Gloria was already heading out the door.

Interesting. Gloria rarely gave personal opinions, but there was something in her tone that unsettled Violet. She'd only had a few interactions with Dr. Langston—always formal, professional, and, well, charming. But maybe there was more beneath the surface.

***

Later that afternoon, Violet found herself seated in the hospital's sleek cafeteria. The bustling noise of doctors, nurses, and staff filled the space, but all she could focus on was the man across from her. Dr. Langston sat with his legs crossed, casually sipping on his coffee as if the world moved at his pace. His eyes—piercing—never left hers.

"So, how are you settling in, Violet?" Dr. Langston's voice was smooth, like silk laced with poison. His smile was easy, but there was something calculated in the way he spoke, the way he watched her reactions.

"Good, I think. It's been an adjustment, but I'm getting the hang of things," Violet replied, trying to sound confident. But under his gaze, she felt a little small.

Dr. Langston nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. "That's what I like about you. You're diligent. But there's something else, too. You're ambitious. You don't just want to coast through this job, do you?"

Violet hesitated, caught off guard. "No, I... I want to make a difference. I want to be the best at what I do."

He leaned forward, his fingers tapping gently on the table. "Good. You remind me of myself when I started here—full of fire. But be careful, Violet. Ambition in this place? It can be dangerous."

She swallowed hard, feeling both flattered and on edge. "What do you mean?"

He gave a slow smile, leaning back in his chair, his eyes never leaving her. "Just that people here... they like to keep things, let's say predictable. You stand out too much, and they'll try to clip your wings. But if you play your cards right, you can rise above all that."

There was a pause, a silence that hung heavy between them. Violet felt her stomach tighten. His words were laced with something she couldn't quite place. Was he warning her? Or testing her?

"I'll keep that in mind," she said carefully.

Dr. Langston's smile widened just a fraction. "I'm sure you will. You're smart, Violet. Just remember—this place is full of opportunities. Don't let anyone hold you back. Including yourself."

The way he said it, the way his gaze lingered, left her feeling both complimented and confused. As the lunch meeting wrapped up, Dr. Langston stood up, offering her a charming, yet slightly chilling smile. "I'll see you around, Violet."

As he walked away, Violet felt a mix of emotions—curiosity, unease, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of intrigue. He was smooth, she'd give him that. But there was something else beneath his polished exterior, something darker.

Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts. It was a text from her mom.

*Vernon's in the hospital. Call me.*

Violet's heart dropped. She immediately rushed to the emergency room, hoping it wasn't as bad as it sounded.

***

The next morning, after a sleepless night filled with worry, Violet arrived at the hospital to check on Vernon. She'd spoken briefly to a nurse who confirmed that Vernon had been admitted for multiple injuries—broken ribs, bruises, the works.

She pushed open the door to his room, only to be greeted by an empty bed. The sheets were rumpled, and his things were gone.

Her stomach twisted. "Where the hell is he?"

A nurse passing by saw her standing there and stopped. "Are you looking for the patient?"

"Yes, Vernon Sinclair. He was here—what happened?"

The nurse gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, but it looks like he discharged himself early this morning. Against medical advice."

Violet's heart raced. "Discharged? That's impossible—he was badly injured."

The nurse shook her head. "I know. But he was adamant about leaving. We couldn't stop him."

Violet felt like the ground was slipping from under her feet.

***

Across town, Vernon limped through the streets, his ribs aching with every step. His eyes darted around, paranoia gnawing at him. He hadn't wanted to leave the hospital, but he couldn't stay there. Not when Deshawn's crew was after him. Not when he knew they'd find him.

His breath was ragged, and the weight of his situation pressed on him. He'd barely survived the last encounter, but now? Now he was on borrowed time. They wouldn't let him walk away again. And next time, he wouldn't be so lucky.

As he stumbled forward, Vernon knew one thing: he needed to disappear.